Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (18 page)

Damn it.

Logan leaned forward, rinsed the blood from his neck, and pressed a hand over the wound. He needed stronger pain—more intense—but what? “Acid,” he muttered.

Calla.

He scratched again at the ghostly fingertips and their torment.

What the hell did she do to him?

He changed out of his warm-up pants and into his leathers and boots.

As if his feet moved on impulse, he left the bathroom and found himself standing in his bedroom doorway. After a furtive glance in either direction, he headed toward Calla’s room.

A thought struck him, hastening his steps and justifying his reasons for seeking her out: Calla knew where Zeke had been taken. To hell with the
poor-sweet-girl-and-her-rough-night
bullshit. His brother’s life was at stake and, whether she wanted to or not, the woman would be helping him.

On reaching it, Logan burst through the door to her room.

A scream hit his ears and rattled his bones.

What the—

Stood aside the bed, Calla held a shirt to her chest, only a couple of shoulder straps letting him know she at least wore a bra. Leather pants lay on the bed; her boxers shrugged down to her ankles.

Logan narrowed his eyes at her. “Going somewhere?”

“Are you incapable of knocking?” She tugged at the shirt like she attempted to cover more of herself. “What do you want?”

“My brother. And you’re going to help me find him.”

“I’m not going anywhere with
you
.”

Logan lurched toward her. “You
are
coming with me. Now. Get dressed.”

“After what you pulled in the gym? I don’t think so.”

He took another step toward her. “You have no choice. My house. My rules. This isn’t for me. It’s for Zeke.”

A moment of silence hung on the air. She bowed her head and exhaled a forced breath. “You promise you won’t try anything.”

“The only promises I keep are in blood and steel.”

Calla stood quiet, staring hard as though mentally arguing with him. She finally nodded. “Not for you. But I’ll do it for Zeke.”

Taking in one last eyeful of her honey-toned legs, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Arms crossed over his chest, Logan waited for what seemed like no more than a minute before the door clicked and Calla appeared. Fully dressed in leathers.

“What’s this?”

Calla slipped the gut-hook blade into her hip holster. “Girl’s gotta have some protection.” Her voice remained very matter-of-fact but Logan sensed fear buried in there somewhere.

“Should you not piss me off, you’ll be returned unharmed.”

“That’s reassuring, thanks.”

He led her through the halls, keeping quiet so as not to rouse Gavin. Man, Gavin would give him shit on the return home, but hopefully he’d have a big blond brute in tow to make his older brother forget the anger.

Ben, as usual, met him at the door.
Christ
.

“S’okay Ben. Gav’s lightened my tether.”

“Master Gavin relayed no such message to me.”

Logan’s shoulders sagged and he let out a sigh. “C’mon Ben.” He rubbed his jaw. “You caught me by surprise the last time. That won’t happen again.” Red flashed in Logan’s periphery.

“I’m sorry—”

“Ben?” Calla stepped forward, her soft voice a stark contrast to the harshness of the two males. She bit her lip and sidled up next to Logan. “
Master
Logan offered to show me a certain cave on the property.” The flirtatious tone of her voice was, no doubt, forced, but exciting just the same. Her hand slipped inside Logan’s jacket, clenching his stomach muscles on contact. “Please?”

Ben’s black, beady eyes studied her. “I see.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been given no orders to keep you from leaving.” His stare shifted back to Logan. “I was asked only to keep you here whilst the masters were gone.”

Logan’s brows winged up. “Wanna let us go?”

“Certainly, sir.” The troll stepped aside and leaned forward, opening the door for them.

Her hand slipped out of his jacket. A grumble in Logan’s throat was cut off by Calla’s polite ‘thanks’ from behind.

The SUV sat in front of the mansion, but Logan set his hands on his hips, puffed out his cheeks with his exhale, and jerked his head for Calla to follow him.

“What was that about?” he said over his shoulder, as they trekked through snow to the side of the manor.

Through the stiff crunching beneath their feet, Calla’s voice hardly carried. “What?”

“Reaching into my coat.” He glanced back. “And, how do you know about the cave?”

Calla pursed a smile. “Kane … Ayden … told me about it.” She cleared her throat.

“They a couple now?” Not that he gave a shit, really.

She shrugged. “Guess you could say so.”

“What the hell’s this world coming to?”

* * *

Logan halted in front of an enormous steel door and punched a code into a keypad. A thunderous boom echoed out, and the door slowly slid aside, revealing a darkened downward slope.

As Logan strode ahead, Calla’s gaze fixed on the broad V of his shoulders, down to the tightness of his ass through the leather pants he wore.
Sweet mercy
.

His boots thumped against the pavement with each stride. “You never answered me. Why’d you do that?” The deep tone of his voice reverberated off the walls.

Calla’s eyes came to attention. “I don’t know. Affection seems to make Ben uncomfortable.”

The glance he shot her damn near made her heart stop—the dimples in his cheeks suggesting the slightest hint of a smile. “Exploited a weakness. Nice.”

Calla smiled inwardly as he faced forward again.

They reached a second door, as big and steely as the first, and after Logan had punched in another code, it slid open to reveal rows of machinery. Cars, trucks, SUVs—the most beautiful vehicles she’d ever seen, lined in perfect rows.

“You guys like your toys, huh?”

No answer.

Instead, she was led to a sleek silver motorcycle. Calla had no idea what kind—she’d never been on a bike that she could remember.

He thrust a helmet at her chest. “Hate taking these things out in the winter.”

Calla took the helmet, all black and sleek with a white skull on either side. “Then, why are we?”

“Because it’s a hell of a lot easier to hide a bike than a big-ass SUV.”

“You’re not wearing a helmet?”

“I’m a demon. I don’t have to live by human rules.”

“Demons are immune to having their skulls crushed?”

“Yeah. That and I raced the fuckers, so I think I’m good.”

“Bikes?”

“Yeah, bikes. Now hurry up.”

Calla slipped the helmet on, watching Logan mount the bike.

Sweet Jesus
. The demon looked like something out of a magazine—the kind of ad that made women talk their husbands into buying motorcycles just to look like the hot guy on the cover.

Revving the throttle with one hand, Logan pointed his thumb to the small seat behind him, the angle of which would leave her leaning against him for sure. She hiked her leg and hopped on, hesitating for a moment before Logan peered to the side as if waiting for her to grab hold of him.

The thickness and hardness of his body made her fingers want to go exploring but, sliding her arms around him, she locked them tight, jerking back and letting out a grunt as Logan fed the bike gas and shot out of the tunnel like a cannonball.

* * *

The bike idled to a slow stop on the empty road, where Calla had been picked up by Ayden and the others.

“There.” She spoke through her helmet, pointing to the field she’d walked across before Gavin and the others had found her.

Logan wheeled the bike around the wet pavement and along the curve of a road that led toward the place she’d been held captive with Zeke. Crumbling pavement made for a bumpy ride, as Logan parked the bike in the dilapidated lot adjacent to the building.

A chill climbed Calla’s spine, as she peered up at the ruined building, knowing that Zeke still remained imprisoned by the beast.

How strong he’d seemed even at his weakest moment. The thought made her wince.

She removed the helmet, the winter air stealing her breath, and probed the back of her head where the wound had completely sealed itself. The ragged tearing of her back, as horrible as it felt earlier in the evening, had been healed by the circulating Lywa antibodies in her blood.

“Show me.” Logan’s sobering voice brought her back to focus.

“Inside.” She climbed from the bike and stuck the helmet over the handlebars.

Her boots sloshed in the snow as she made her way around the building. A small part of her hoped that the beast might still be inside. Perhaps it’d finish her off in front of Logan—the only brother who left her damn near choking on the guilt of Zeke’s disappearance—and lift her from whatever hate-spell he had over her.

Her hair whipped across her face as she stepped inside and, stomach twisting, she peered across the distance, visualizing her and Zeke hanging from the rafters.

Crunching from behind signaled Logan was on her heels, and she made her way over debris and rebar to the rafters. The bolas that’d been tethered to her ankles still lay amidst the rotted wood and garbage.

At a smeared pool of blood coating the floor beneath the spot where Zeke had hung, sickness rose up into her throat, but Calla swallowed it back.

Knowing that he blamed her for his brother’s abduction, she could only imagine what thoughts pummeled through Logan’s head, and she cast her gaze away from those eyes that would surely condemn her as her fingertips brushed the two, almost sealed holes on her shoulder caused by Zeke.

When Logan crouched to the ground, Calla dared a glance, taking in the hard lines of his tightened jaw, his bunched shoulders, his muscles taut and juddering as if he might explode right in front of her.

Removing his fingers from the spilt blood, he grabbed the chain of the bolas and threw the balls of metal across the span of the building.

Calla flinched as they crashed through what was left of a wall. Her pulse quickened, breaths nearly panting.

He twisted to face her, his eyes glowing a menacing red.

She didn’t say a word. Couldn’t if she wanted to, with fear and the likelihood that she might vomit throttling against her throat.

Logan jumped up and stormed right into her personal space, kicking her back a step. “Let’s case the perimeter. Look for anything.”

With a frantic nod, Calla blew out a breath of relief, her muscles damn near the brink of shaking her right into a stupor as she followed his stalked footsteps back through the building.

Once outside, she flanked left as he headed to the right. Objects in the darkness came into sharp focus as her eyes adjusted, and she angled her head toward the snow, looking for any clue that might give insight into which way Zeke had been taken. Surely there should’ve been blood, judging by how much had pooled onto the floor, but the white snow, littered with dirt and garbage, held nothing to suggest a kidnapping.

She scanned a wide circle out from the building until she met Logan at the far south end, where he stood with his hands on his hips, nostrils flaring in obvious anger.

“Fuck!” His curse echoed throughout the surrounding ruins.

Rather than make herself his punching target, Calla circled back, wider the second time.

No blood.

How did he even manage that?

The possible answer was met with another twist in her gut: perhaps the hunter had bagged Zeke’s body. Logan had said they were skilled bounty hunters.

Good hunters never left a trail to be followed.

Behind a patch of shrubs, Calla tipped her head as she eyed something in the snow. Tracks. She crouched low and scampered toward it, keeping their subtle indentations in her sights.

Hairs on her nape bristled and she shot her hand out to the side before Logan could trample what she’d stumbled upon.

“Tracks. Lycan.”

“Not lycan. Too small to be lycan,” he argued. “Just a stray dog.”

She shook her head. “Look here.” She pointed to a small hole just below the paw print in the snow. “Dew claw. A dog’s are too high up on the paw. Only a lycan’s show up on the tracks.”

Logan crouched beside her and huffed. “It’s still too small.”

“It is. But it’s clearly lycan.”

“So, how far out do they go?”

“It’s pavement beyond. We’d never track him straight to Zeke. But somewhere, there’s a young lycan wolf. I have to believe where we find the wolf, we find Zeke.”

Logan sniffed as he stood. “Well, Blondie, looks like you’ve earned your keep for the night.” He waved her to follow. “Let’s go before Gavin blows a fucking gasket.”