Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (52 page)

He’d done bad things.

Over and over she told herself, a feeble attempt to feel okay about killing a
human
. Alexi never killed humans unless they were on their way to becoming a wolf. Or unless General Wade deemed them too weak to save as soldiers.

She tipped her head back and let the light drops of rain hit her cheeks, as if it could wash away her sins like a kiss from heaven, telling her she’d done the right thing.

As she stepped toward the entrance of Moonshine’s back-alley, she froze, her heart caught in her throat.

The silhouette of a man took up the center, legs spread, arms crossed. Everything about his stance screamed
pissed off
.

Logan
.

Heart jackhammering an erratic pulse, she turned so he couldn’t see the blood smeared across her mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t, at first. Thought you were tied up in the basement of some bastard with a death-wish, until you came to me last night. This place is an all-night buffet for vengeance-hungry lycan slayers.”

Calla crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

“You left. I told you not to leave.”

“You were also tripping out when you said that.”

His shadowed head tipped to the side. “I see you’ve taken up a new hobby.”

“What are you going to do, punish
me
now? This asshole beat his wife nearly to death three hours ago.”

“You beat me to the punch, then.”

She sagged her shoulders and let out a sigh. “Look, if you’re here to convince me—”

“I’m not asking you, Calla. I’m telling you to come back with me. You’re in danger.”

“I’m fine. Quit treating me like I’m some helpless child. I’m an Alexi soldier.”

“You’ve been exposed.”

“Yeah. Surprise! I’m a nasty Sang now, too. Sorry I didn’t tell you before sex. Wishing you’d slapped on a condom?”

“The venom will begin to affect you. It’s nearly killed the one who bit you.”

“Draven?” She threw her head back with a laugh. “The venom didn’t nearly kill him, I did.” She glanced down at the body on the ground. “Should’ve finished him off. You’re free Logan. Go back to whatever you were. Do whatever it was you were doing before all of this. Consider yourself lucky I’m not the trapping type. Casual flings without the strings. Isn’t that what you Brothers are all about?”

He lurched toward her, stepping into the light where she could see him—his brown eyes set against his dark brown hair, his chiseled jawline and warm olive-toned skin like a Roman god. The white unbuttoned shirt he wore offered a nice eyeful of his muscled chest, accentuated by the shine of the alley lights and the way it rose and fell with his deep breaths. It could’ve easily have been thirty degrees outside and she suddenly felt warm.

“You’re coming back with me. I’ll drag you from this fucking alley, kicking and screaming, if I have to, Calla. I swear it.”

She shot him a sidelong glance. So badly she wanted to run into those arms that would shield her from whatever crap life she’d suddenly taken up—but she couldn’t. “You’re not dragging me anywhere. This is where I belong now.”

He shook his head. “You belong in a nice house with a nice happy life. You’re better than this.”

“I just bagged and tagged this jerk for his blood. Better?” She sneered. “Apparently, not good enough for your house or your life.”

He rubbed his hand down his face. “Believe me, if I could give that to you …”

A frigid darkness rose from the pit of her stomach. “What—we’d live happily ever after?” She wiped the rain from her face. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve become somewhat of a predator.”

His lip twitched. “I want to do right by you Calla. I want to help you.”

“Do right?” She blew out a breath. “You can do right by leaving me alone.”

“Well, too bad. You’ve just won yourself a shiny new stalker. Lucky you.” He edged toward her. “Now, quit the shit and let’s go.” He reached out a hand toward her.

“I’m not some poor, sad and sorry girl you can boss around at your command.” She stepped back. “That girl is dead. So stay away.”

The weariness in his stare vowed determination. “No. Tell me you hate me or to go fuck myself. You can even tell me that you want nothing to do with me. But staying away from you isn’t an option.” He stepped toward her. “Doesn’t matter where you go, I’ll always be one step behind.”

She stood silent, biting her lip where the blood of her victim had left a salty taste on her tongue. With her slow shake of her head, red filtered into Logan’s eyes. “Then I’ll be sure not to leave footprints behind for you to follow.”

A force crashed into her chest, crushing the wind right out of her, and within seconds, she hit the pavement, cold rain seeping into her clothes. Logan straddled her, holding her hands captive at either side of her head.

“Let me go, Logan!” She kicked and writhed beneath his big body, her eyes squinting against the mist.

He leaned closer. “Listen to me. I’m not going to just stand here and watch something happen to you. You’re coming back with me.”

“I don’t …” The effort of trying to push him off hindered her speech. “… need you to … look out for me. I … don’t need … your pity. You don’t owe me anything.” She raised her head up off the ground but he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I’m not doing this because you owe me, or I owe you.” His words came out on a growl, and the reddish tint to his skin gave a clear indication that she’d hit the temper button. “I’m fucked, Calla. The moment I first saw you, I knew you were going to fuck me, and you did. My head’s not right.” He stroked her hair and gripped a handful at her crown, his voice calmer as he said, “Believe me when I say I’ve tried to treat you like any other female, to cast you aside and tell myself you don’t matter to me. I’m bullshitting myself, though.”

Each upward thrust of her hips failed to move him.

“I care about you now and I won’t stop until I know you’re safe in my bed beside me.”

She quit struggling and stared up at him, breathing heavy from the tussle. “In your bed?”

“Yes.” He leaned in and kissed her throat, sending a rush of heat through her body. “Another night with me. Please.” He spoke between kisses against her neck and collarbone. “I need you. I want to feel you again. Don’t you want to feel me?”

“Just one night?”

“Just one night. I promise,” he whispered in her ear, “You’re my drug, Calla. The one that’s going to pull me under and ruin me for life, but even one more taste of that is better than none at all.” He kissed her so hard she could feel the gravel of pavement cutting into the back of her head. “Fuck,” he muttered against her lips. “I want to tear you open and sew myself inside of you forever. Come back with me, baby.”

Calla’s heart wanted to tear free of her chest as she closed her eyes.

Logan’s curse echoed in her head as she opened them again—back in Ryke’s office right inside Moonshines, a place he’d offered her to crash during the daylight. Probably the only place Logan wouldn’t think to look for her.

Only the wall separated her from Logan, but for all he knew, she was miles away. No doubt, he’d tried to use his charm to trick her into going back with him. Not for his own pleasure, but because she’d become everyone’s problem—the screw-up that kept screwing up. His proposition had obligation written all over it, and she was damned if she was going to be his problem. Not when his focus needed to be on Zeke.

Besides, one night wouldn’t cut it for Calla. She already knew too well that the more time she spent with Logan, the more she craved him.

“Enjoy yourself?” The voice echoed in darkness and interrupted her thoughts.

Calla startled backward, nearly falling out of Ryke’s office chair.

The nephilim emerged from the shadows, moon’s light falling on his shoulders, making him look bigger and more intimidating than usual.

“I … fed on a victim.”

“A victim?” He tilted his head. “Is the blood I’ve supplied not good enough for you?”

“It is … I just ...” She just didn’t know where the blood came from in his case. He’d kept it stocked for her in a small refrigerator. At least her kills were doing society a favor. “I like to hunt.”

“Do you, now?” Ryke moved across the room like a snake slithering through the grass and sat at the edge of his desk beside her. “We share a common interest, then.”

“Oh? What do you hunt?”

A slap threw her head to the side and left a stinging burn on her cheek. “Bitches who defy my orders.” He nabbed the front of her shirt, wrenching her toward him. “Did I not tell you to stay here?”

“Go to hell.” She spat out and closed her eyes. Cold bands, like metal, wrapped around her throat, their tightness threatening to snap her head clean from her body. She couldn’t flash, as hard as she concentrated on the place she wanted to be: the soft lavender and quietude of her bedroom. Calla opened her eyes to find Ryke’s grin spread wide across his face.

“Apparently, I need more aggressive measures with you, love.” A second thread wrapped around her neck, that one tighter, more binding. “This is precisely why humans will never climb the food chain as long as there are supes. You’ve not mastered the art of control. Do you value your life?”

When she hesitated, the chains tightened, and she gasped from the pressure.

“Do. You. Value. Your. Life?”

At a quick nod of her head, the tension in Ryke’s shoulders languished, the grip at her throat loosened.

“I’d hoped not to resort to this, but your rebellious nature leaves me with no choice.” He unwound the chains from her neck, but the restriction remained at her throat. “What you have around your neck cannot be removed. And you cannot leave this building without disintegrating into dust. So, I suggest you heed my laws and drink of the blood that I”—he spoke through gritted teeth—“so
graciously
provide you.”

“The blood. I have to know where it comes from.”

Something lit his eyes. “Would you like me to show you?”

She didn’t trust him one bit, but curiosity gnawed at her. The fridge was stocked with bottles of blood—the kind that stayed with her, abating the hunger she felt soon after her back-alley jobs. She nodded and, as he released his grip of her hair, lifted her fingers to her neck. Deep ridges ringed her throat, formed from what felt like leather bands.

“The bands are made of human flesh. Most equipped to contain a soul, after all.”

Her stomach lurched at the thought. “Human?”

“Very.” He patted the desktop beside her. “Come, pet.”

The voices in her head that usually steered her away from what could only be trouble had silenced—as through becoming Sang had suddenly awarded her the freedom to be stupid—and she dutifully followed behind as he led her out and into the dark hallway.

“This … thing with me. I get that it’s sort of vampire, but how does it work?”

He shot her a glance over his shoulder. “It’s much like a virus, actually.”

“A virus. Like … the flu?”

His chuckle echoed down the hall. “Most people don’t have a craving for blood with the flu, last I checked.”

“Then, what?”

“It’s an ancient organism. Endemic to a specific species centuries ago that wiped themselves out.”

“The virus wiped them out?”

“In part. That and they couldn’t produce offspring.”

They finally reached a door, where Ryke pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket and drew a circle, just as she’d seen Logan do.

“Are we … going to Orcosia?”

He snorted. “Not quite. I find this a simpler way of travel. Even in Detroit.”

“Why couldn’t they produce offspring? The Sang?”

He cocked a brow. “You know of them.” He tucked the chalk back inside his pocket and, placing a hand inside the circle, spoke a chant, opening the portal. “Human blood is not enough to sustain the virus. It kills off its host, a true parasitic relationship.”

“Am I going to die?”

He remained silent and crossed his arms over his chest. “Amusing. You humans are always so preoccupied with death. Of course you’re going to die. All humans die. And still, you bring and celebrate birth with this knowledge, all while contemplating your own mortality. The question is, how will you go about prolonging the inevitable?”

“Show me.”

His face softened into a smile, and the click of the door preceded a slow creak.

Calla’s chest knotted as her gaze fixated on the gruesome scene within. The scent penetrated her nose and coated the back of her throat.

Her stomach folded over on itself, not so much repulsed, but suddenly …
hungry
?

Alexi hung from chains, dangling from the ceiling. She’d recognized them, though just barely. Their naked bodies carried bruises and bite marks hardly visible against the grayish-blue pallor to their skin.