Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (35 page)

Slowly, Draven’s eyes trailed up the naked man’s form.

Deuce
.

So helpless the giant looked now, his body convulsing, clanging the chain securing him. From the corner of his eyes he stared down at Draven and his lips clamped together.

Draven’s words from earlier echoed in his head:
Trust me.

“Take from him.”

Draven bowed and shook his head. “I won’t.”

A burst of laughter bounced off the walls. “Ah, the social pressures of doing what’s right,” Ryke said. “You humans amuse me.” He moved past Draven, standing beside Deuce, and trailed his finger down the naked skin. “Tell me, if the roles were reversed, what do you think your friend here would do?” He slithered around the soldier like a snake and sidled up next to Draven again. “Alexi blood is the only blood strong enough to keep you alive. You feed from the humans, and you will perish.” A shove from behind knocked Draven into Deuce’s body. “Drink. Or I’ll string you up with the rest of them.”

Draven squeezed his eyes.

God, the mere thought of such a thing made him want to scream.

An overpowering scent penetrated Draven’s nostrils.

Blood.

Every ounce of the soldier registered in Draven’s brain, swallowing his senses: what he’d eaten, the sex he’d had with Jenna the night before and, of course, the fear.

Stark fear that tickled Draven’s insides.

Draven’s fangs elongated. All Alexi had fangs, but the ones that protruded from his lip felt thick and hollow, purposeful. As a golden haze clouded his vision, he leaned forward and bit into Deuce’s wrist.

Each pull on his old comrade’s vein offered pure ecstasy, the taste that filled Draven’s mouth warming his body, filling his belly. Like thick, warm liquor with the power to transport him to a state of euphoria. Better than any drug he’d ever tried.

Deuce shook in his grasp, and Ryke ripped the Alexi’s wrist from Draven’s mouth, tearing the flesh open. “Enough. We have to ration what we have.” Another grin spread across the nephilim’s face. “Until you bring us more of your kind. One, in particular.”

“Why don’t they turn?” He glanced back at Ryke. “Why do they remain Alexi?”

“You’ve much to learn about what throbs through your veins now. Your teeth secrete a venom. In one bite, you can turn a human, but only if you
wish
to turn him. You control the release of the venom.”

Draven wiped the dribbling blood from his mouth. The thought of Deuce’s blood swimming inside of him and enjoying every bit of it repulsed Draven. “Why me?”

“One …” Ryke glanced up at Deuce. “… they trust you. And two, I know you’ll bring them back. Unlike our unrefined friends here,”—he turned with an outstretched hand toward the creatures—“you’re mostly human. And, like humans, you fear death. They do not. Like children. Young, innocent. Hunger is all that drives them.”

“Where do they come from?”

“A place even death fears to tread.” His grin cast chills down Draven’s spine. “You will feed tonight. Tomorrow, you’ll be strong enough.”

“For what?”

“Bringing Calla here.”

Draven flinched as Ryke placed an arm around his shoulder. “See, without her, you’ll die. She alone carries the very antidote you need to survive.” He gripped Draven’s shoulders and twisted him to face him. “How’s that for motive?”

“I refuse.”

“I think it’s time you see the world from my perspective. You are but a pawn and I’m your king.”

“You’re not my king,” Draven gritted out.

Tightness at Draven’s neck brought him to his knees. Intense burning floated through his body, caustic, as if it’d materialized out of smoke and dispersed to every part of him.

“Your soul is mine. I’m very much your master now.”

The tightness loosened and Draven fell to all fours, gasping for breath. Yet sucking in air did nothing to ease the burn.

“I’m a valuable piece in this game.” Ryke stood over Draven as he spoke. “One that cannot be replaced.”

“I won’t die for you and your cause.”

“Perhaps not. But I believe you’d die for the female. And that’s precisely the commitment I need.” He placed a hand atop Draven’s head. “Come, let’s discuss the plan. Pet.”

* * *

Not that Logan despised his brothers, or anything, but having Ferno back would be a whole lot of shit hitting the fan. The male could’ve been considered psychotic on a different level from Logan himself. At least Logan had always been calculated about his kills. Ferno was something of a rabid wolverine, with a brand of pain that could annihilate an entire block in one sweep, if he felt so ambitious.

Logan entered his office and snuck up behind where Calla stood staring out of the large window that overlooked the Detroit skyline. “Ready?”

A squeal died in her throat as she spun around and grabbed her chest. Her widened eyes narrowed on him. “Is that blood?”

Logan glanced down at sprayed splotches across his shirt, more prominent than after the fight with the Scelius. “Yeah.”

She raised her brows. “Business?”

Logan nodded and jerked his head. “C’mon.” He took her hand and led her out of the office toward the elevator.

Much as Logan didn’t care to admit it, something felt nice about having Calla with him. She didn’t chatter on like a lot of females, talking about stupid shit that he could care less about. For the most part, she was quiet—a quality Logan happened to admire in her.

They stepped inside the empty elevator and Logan leaned back against the wall, letting go of her hand. Bending forward, she seemed to be examining the flames around the number on the elevator buttons, and Logan cracked a smile at her curiosity, his eyes making a quick sweep of her ass in those leathers. Her finger drifted over the flicker and she straightened the second the ding alerted the oncoming stop.

Logan took the lead, but one step outside of the elevator and a flash of white flew at him from the left.

The impact slammed him off balance and he stumbled to the right.

Hissing in his ear prompted him to throw his head back, the crush of knocking whatever held him from behind silencing the sound. He snapped his head to the left, taking in the blood-red of the male’s eyes and the pallor of his skin.

The paleskinned male’s lip peeled back, showing off his long fangs.

Logan reached to grip its neck but it disappeared.

Calla’s outcry tensed Logan’s muscles, and he spun around to find a second paleskin throttling her neck.

Kill.

Logan charged toward it, but flinched at a piercing of his shoulder.

He swung around, grappled for the first paleskin that had reattached to his side, and clutched the back of its skull, giving a hard yank.

The male dislodged and Logan squeezed its throat until it convulsed and its eyes rolled back into its head. He slammed it to the cement, tugged his Glock from the holster, and propped the gun beneath its chin. With a squeeze of the trigger, brain and skull fragments exploded outward.

Logan jumped to his feet and barreled toward Calla.

Her features set in determination, she pounded her fist against the beast still grasping at her neck.

The glimmer of light surrounding her attacker constricted Logan’s heart a beat before ramping the knotted organ into overdrive. He’d seen the bastards disappear into thin air before.

Logan crashed into its midsection, knocking the Sang away from her body, and scrambled on all fours to catch it before it evaporated. His Glock-toting hand crossed over the other and shot once, missing the nothingness where the thing had stood a half-second before, and the bullet ricocheted off the cement.

Spinning on his heel, Logan bounded back for Calla and yanked her up into his arms, scanning the lot for any sign of the paleskin.

No movement. No streaks of white. Nothing.

His chest heaved, muscles quaked. A second later and she’d have been taken. Gone with the motherfuckin’ wind.

“Is he gone?” Her body shivered against him.

Logan set her on her feet beside the McLaren and opened the door, but rather than urge her in, he drew in a withering breath, crowded her against the car with his body and crushed his lips against hers.

Adrenaline cooled his muscles, and he gripped the back of her head, his fingers threaded in her long hair. “Gods,” he spoke against her lips.
Almost lost her.
“Fucking gods.” His stomach tightened and he squeezed a fistful of her blonde locks.

As he released her, she drew in a breath, her mouth parted as her quizzical eyes stared back at him. “Let’s go,” he said, the hoarse tone in his voice revealing the dryness of his throat.

Calla practically dropped into the passenger seat, and Logan slammed the door before jogging around the back of the car. Had the bastard returned, it’d have gotten a fistful of the fury that still had his bones rattling like dried leaves in a storm.

Once in his seat, Logan hammered the gas and sped out of the parking lot.

As the dark tunnel stretched ahead—the bright glow behind them fading in the distance—Calla tilted her head, resting it against the back of the seat.

Logan glanced over and caught her rubbing a hand down her face. “What an adrenaline rush, huh?”

“What … were they?”

“Sang.”

“Those things … they can appear out of nowhere?”

“Yeah.”

“He
showed
me something. Horrible. I don’t know if it was real, or not. Something was …
feeding
off of me.” She threw herself forward, arms folded into her stomach. “I was alive.”

“Hey, hey. Calla, you’re safe, okay? You’re safe.” His hand rested on her shoulder. A comfort, but damn, even Logan couldn’t help the jitters still coursing through his body. Unshakable.
Fuck
.

His hands yearned to touch her, calm her, calm himself.

He pulled off to the side of the road.

Calla stiffened in her seat. “What are you doing?”

He cut off the engine and twisted toward her, capturing her face in his palms and pulling her lips to his. She yielded immediately, and in the darkness of the tunnel, his hands roamed her body. Soft skin and her citrus scent told his mind to chill the hell out, that she still sat beside him.

His body wouldn’t relent so easily.

“Gods, I’m so … fucked up on you right now, Calla. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Your skin. Your smell.” He inhaled a sharp breath. “It’s all I can think about.” Her hair tangled in his fist as he kissed along her neck. “That bastard back there could’ve taken it all away in a split second.”

She exhaled a breath. “That’s troubling you?”

He nuzzled his face against her throat and breathed. Felt so good to touch her, to know she was safe. “I still want to tear the fucker up.” His hand fell to her breasts, and through the thin fabric of her t-shirt, her erect nipples passed beneath his fingertips.

Undone.

The silent communication of her body left him desperate for one touch. One brush of her fingers and it’d take a goddamn freightliner to keep him from having her right there in the car.

He pulled away and her attention fell on his lower half, where his telling stiffness damn near peaked through the top of his pants.

He’d never been so hard for a female in his life.

Every nerve ending in his body came to life, throwing sparks as he waited for the one moment she’d shock his system.

Her gaze met his.

* * *

What she surmised as pain and pleading stared back at Calla, in the creasing of Logan’s brow and his deep breaths.

She’d sensed the urgency beating through his kiss, as if he hoped to punch through her. The tightening of his muscles and the haste of his movements told her he’d been just as shaken.

Lingering trembles still had her own muscles stiff as planks, but the fears of her encounter with the Sang somehow seemed distant. The awareness of Logan’s size, the strength in his body beneath her fingertips, brought her to the realization she was as safe as she’d ever be, right there with him.

Something had changed in him. She’d noticed it the moment they walked into the club—an edginess that she couldn’t put her finger on until just then. Mister
Should-have-left-you-to-the-wolves
suddenly wanted to keep her protected.

She climbed onto his lap, awkwardly wedging her knees in the small space on either side of him. Logan adjusted the seat back, one hand resting on her thigh.

“Why didn’t you let it take me? I could’ve been out of your hair for good.” A bold question, but she needed to hear him say it.

He seemed to bite the inside of his mouth, staring up at her. “I just couldn’t. Every minute I’m with you, I want more.”

After a moment, she leaned forward and brushed her lips across his. Strange, seduction had never really been her thing, but his kiss made her womb clench and her hips move in a way they never had before.