Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (63 page)

Dressed in a black druid-type robe, he pulled the hood back, and her muscles relaxed.

“Jesus, Logan, you scared me.”

He reached out to her. “Come with me, Calla.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Please. Just come with me.” His impassive expression didn’t give the slightest hint of what was going on.

Sliding out of bed, she wrapped herself in the silk robe lying on the adjacent chair. “What time is it?”

He glanced back. “Almost midnight.”

A million questions buzzed through her head, but she kept to the easy one of, “Are you certain everything is all right?”

Logan didn’t answer.

Calla’s breaths hastened, and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The pregnancy had her exhausted every night, and it was only the first trimester.

Logan led her down the staircase, and into a hallway she’d never ventured before. Dark paintings depicting spectral beings lined the hallway. What Calla noticed most was that each picture she passed showed a different phase of the moon.

As fast as Logan pulled her along, though, she couldn’t determine any particular pattern.

“Can you at least give me a hint?”

They arrived in front of a door with light bleeding through the cracks. Logan swung it open, and the brightness of candles nearly blinded Calla.

Inside, figures stood side-by-side, lining a path that led to a small pit of fire. Each of them wore the same robe as Logan’s.

“What’s going on?”

Ayden stood closest and gave a warm smile that put Calla’s stomach at ease as she followed behind Logan toward the pyre.

As she passed them, the stoic faces of Logan’s brothers remained shrouded behind their hoods. All were present except for Zeke, who remained confined to his bed as he healed. Calla frowned at their refusal to meet her gaze.

Logan finally reached the end of their path and nudged her to face him in front of the flames. God, he’d looked so different the past couple of weeks. His skin carried a healthy glow, his eyes calmer. He’d gotten back into working out and bulking up. She’d certainly noticed, but beside the fire, in the dim glow of the candles, the brown in his eyes held a sparkle.

He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I intend to do this the right way this time.”

Logan reached behind him without removing his attention from her, and Ferno placed a small wooden chest in his palm.

Gavin strode from the line to stand beside him, holding a brass bowl. From within the chest, Logan pulled out a tiny, folded piece of white paper.

On it, in black quill-style script, were the words:
Snowball fight
.

Confused, Calla watched, as Logan tore the piece of paper up into bits and placed them in the bowl.

He pulled another paper, folded like the first, and held it up for her to read:
First kiss in the library.

The second was torn also, and sent to join the first.

Calla’s chest suddenly throbbed. Her blood hammered inside her veins. She placed a hand to her mouth and attempted to stem the tears brimming in her eyes as realization struck.

Memories.

Logan pulled more out of the chest:
first visit to Orcosia, Sanctuary, the drive through the tunnel
. His wink brought heat to her cheeks.

His face turned somber as he held up:
nearly losing you, finding you again, finding out about my son, making things right, waking up with you in my arms, tonight, tomorrow and always,
and finally
, ‘Du amec, eternally’.

A tear tickled Calla’s cheek.

“You asked once if I had any good memories.” The sound of his voice, so deep and hoarse, reverberated off the walls. “So many times I wondered why death hadn’t claimed me. To spend a lifetime never feeling, never loving. What could possibly be left but a hollow void? I never realized how dead my soul was until you claimed it. You resurrected the life inside of me. Your kiss, your touch. My lifeline. You filled that hollow with hope and fire. The memories I’ve made with you are forever etched inside my heart. You returned my soul, twice. I love you.” He opened his palm, revealing the last scrap of paper with those three words written across.

Warmth flooded her chest. “Love?”

“Yes. I decided to make my own definition of the word.” His firm hand carried a slight tremble as he placed it against Calla’s stomach. “It’s what both of you mean to me.”

Logan emptied the scraps of paper onto the pyre. Small orange embers rose above the flame and floated upward into ash. “Our memories, forever a part of us.”

Calla smiled and sniffed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He knelt before her, pressing his forehead to the back of her hand. “I want to take care of you. I never want you to know cold, fear or loneliness again, baby. We’re a family now.”

“Family?” She wiped away the endless rivulets of tears trailing down her cheek.

“Calla, with my brothers,”—he shot a glance to the side and smiled—“and Ayden bearing witness, bestow me the honor of becoming my tazschla.” He bowed his head. “Eternally.”

When his gaze lifted to meet hers, so filled with pleading and adoration, Calla’s breath hitched. She could only muster a frantic nod.

Smiling, Logan rose to his feet and passed the brass bowl to Mad Dog.

The brother unsheathed his dagger and sliced into his forearm, allowing it to bleed into the bowl, before passing the bowl to Calix beside him, who also pulled a dagger and did the same.

Each brother cut and bled into the bowl, until it was at last passed to Ferno. He sliced his arm, bled, and then swirled the contents, handing the bowl back to Logan.

Gavin stepped forward, carrying a golden band and staff. Tucking the staff beneath his arm, he took Calla’s wrist, kissed the top of her hand and spoke a low chant, before twining the delicate-looking gold metal around her arm.

Calla lifted her arm to examine the beautiful etching in the gold, the patterns and symbols, ones she didn’t recognize.

After twisting another small metal band to the tip of the staff, Gavin gave Logan a nod and placed the staff into the pyre.

A bright glow consumed the metal.

Calla’s eyes widened. “What are you …” Did they plan to
brand
her? Not that she wouldn’t honor their ways, but
damn
.

Gavin winked and twisted away from her to face Logan. He pressed the metal into Logan’s chest.

The crackle of burning skin tickled her stomach until Calla flinched.

A brother hissed. Zayne, she thought.

Logan’s face tightened but he didn’t move.

“The blood of your brothers seals the bond.” Gavin held a black kerchief to Logan’s chest and poured the brass bowl of blood over the wound.

A black symbol with her name etched into it, already healing and blackened, had been set just outside of the tattoo on his chest, no different in appearance to his ink except for the slightly raised skin.

“It’s my bond to you, Calla. The symbol of eternal servitude as your protector, your lover, your mate.” Logan tapped a fist to his chest over the branding. “This is your mark on me. The beginning of our story.”

“As the eldest son of Wrath,” Gavin said, “I vow our loyalty and protection to you.”

Sadness seemed to cloud Gavin’s eyes as he spoke, and for a moment, Calla wondered if he might be disappointed at the union for some inexplicable reason, but she was soon distracted as each brother came before her, spoke something she couldn’t understand in Demonic, and kissed the top of her hand.

Mad Dog did the same but passed Logan a box wrapped in gold and silver trimmings, with a large bow like it’d been taken right out of a catalogue. “A gift, Bro.” He shook his head. “Man, never thought I’d see the day your ass would settle down.”

Logan cocked a brow and pulled on the ribbon. As he lifted the lid, his eyebrows knitted together. “What the hell is it?” He drew the black leather straps up out of the box. “New holster?”

“Yeah. But see, we had it specially made.” He tugged on one of the straps. “See here, this holds baby bottles. And this one is a clip for that … shit, what’s that thing kids’ suck on?”

Ayden chuckled. “Pacifier.”

“Right. Right. This is for the pacifier. And look, you can still draw your Glock, just don’t get it caught in the teething ring here.”

Logan’s jaw flexed. “You’re a dick.”

Maddox glanced back to Calla. “You sure about this, bella? Logan’s son …” He shook his head. “Phew! Think of kindergarten. Stalking girls on the playground and beating the shit out of bullies. You’ve got your hands full with this one.”

Logan gave him a shove, but as laughter burst from Calla, he smiled, cradled her face, and kissed her. “Du amec. I love you.”

“And I love you.” She glanced up at Logan. “We’re bonded now?”

“No, tazschla.”

The brothers, Kane and Ayden filed through the door, leaving the two of them alone, and Logan’s wicked grin turned back to her.

“Bonding is a very private ceremony.” He opened a large cast iron chest beside the fire and pulled out a thick satin blanket with gold spindling. “This is a blanket I had made by a royal Semptresz in Orcosia.” He spread the luxurious fabric out onto the ground. “Its threads are made from a rare flower, like silk from an insect.”

“Oh, what are you doing?”

He stepped toward her and untied his robe, allowing it to fall to the ground beside him.

Good lord
. He
had
been working out the past couple of weeks again—every muscle bulged as if he’d deepened the grooves with a pick. Her eyes feasted on every inch, down to the erection that left her biting her lip and suddenly aware of the dampness in her panties.

He unraveled the knot in her robe and, sliding the T-shirt off, he leaned forward and kissed the crook of her neck.

Would she ever tire of the imprint his touch left on her skin?

His parted lips traced down her exposed breasts, her clenching stomach, down, down until he knelt to the ground.

“Tazschla, I intend to spend all night worshipping this beautiful body.”

Panties slid down her thighs and she kicked them to the side, but crossed her arms over her stomach, the sudden exposure making her want to hide under the blanket.

Logan pulled her arms aside. “Don’t you dare hide yourself.” He kissed her stomach and rose again, pressing his lips to hers. With a tug of her arm, he led her onto the blanket, knelt before her and urged her down to her knees, before carefully laying her on her back.

A Demonic chant left his lips, spoken with such eloquence that although Calla didn’t understand a word of it, the sound of his soft and gentle voice filled her heart.

“Are you ready?” he asked in the common word.

She smiled. “Yes.”

Logan slid his hands up the underside of her arms, encouraging them over her head, and pinned her beneath him. “Know that whatever you see is me. No matter what, it’s me, okay? Stay with me. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

She swallowed a gulp and nodded. “I trust you.”

He pushed himself back onto his heels and dropped his palms to his thighs. His bulky chest rose and fell with each steady breath, and as he bowed his head, chanting flowed from his mouth like a song.

Calla focused on her name amid the black ink.

Snarling between words, Logan’s voice grew deeper, huskier, until he almost spoke in a growl.

Calla’s pulse hastened as his skin reddened, the shade intensifying by the second.

He tipped his head back, then forward, rotating chin to shoulders as if stretching. His muscles trembled and flexed, like he attempted control of whatever had taken over him. When he glanced up, his eyes glowed red but carried a penetrating depth that had Calla gasping. His lips darkened until they almost appeared black.

Frightening yet beautiful.

Dangerous.

Stay with me,
she reminded herself
.
She forced her hands to remain where he’d placed them above her head, despite feeling as vulnerable as the virgin sacrifice to King Kong.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, and as he fell forward, her muscles flinched. “Body and soul” he rumbled. “We are one, tazschla.”

His face dropped and a sharp pain pierced her neck.

Calla hissed, but lay paralyzed as warmth spread through every cell inside of her, the sting dissipating to such overwhelming pleasure, she closed her eyes. She giggled at the accompanying dizziness, her head spinning like she’d downed a bottle of liquor.

Prickles danced along her skin. His flesh brushing against her nipples urged her to arch into him.

Logan’s thick erection brushed against her thighs.

Yes.
That was what she wanted.

A flush of heat washed through her body in tidal waves of fire. An ache blossomed between her thighs.