Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (41 page)

“I don’t know. There’s a void beyond that. I guess I’d want to know what lies in the blackness. Know what happened to me. My family.”

“You’d want to know that?”

“Every Alexi wants to know. We’re trained to focus on vengeance. To destroy and think of nothing else. But deep inside, we all want to know.” She sighed. “I used to pray every night for just one clue.”

“You believe in prayer?”

“As much as you’ll tell me I shouldn’t, yes. I do.” She tipped her head. “You never pray for anything?”

“When I was in Obsidius, there was an older demon, half human, in the cell next to mine. He’d pray during his torture. Even when his tongue had been cut out, he’d mumble through those prayers. Personally, I think all he ever accomplished from it was pissing off the Enforcer. Here, I never muttered so much as a single word, and I lived through fifty years of it. The old demon beside me died of his within the first year of his sentence.” Logan frowned. “I considered him a stupid bastard. But … maybe I just never paid attention to what he was praying for.” He sniffed. “I don’t pray for anything. There isn’t a god in this world that would take a chance on answering me.”

Calla opened her mouth but hesitated before asking, “What gave you the scars? I didn’t think demons scarred easily.”

A long silence hung on the air, and for a moment, Calla regretted asking.

“Why do you want to know?” he eventually asked.

“Scars tell stories. I want to know yours.”

“Are you hungry?” He stirred beneath her. “Never got to take you out for dinner.”

She tightened her arm around him. “Logan. Please. I’m not asking for all of them. Just one.”

His lips clamped shut and brows furrowed, but he smoothed a hand across his jaw and asked, “Which one?”

Her gaze wandered his body. “This one.” She pointed to the longest, deepest white scar across his abdomen.

He lifted his head up off the pillow, glanced down and fell back again. “Nicus demon. Last and most expensive fight I’ve ever won.”

“You fought on the streets?”

“Cage.” He flashed her a glance and cast his stare up toward the ceiling. “To the death.” His arm shifted beneath her and he brushed a finger across the scar as if the gesture summoned a memory. “Their claws carry metal from our world. They’re often cut off and used to fashion blades. So the shithead was lucky he had his up until it got lodged in my stomach.”

“The blade left the scar?”

“No. Venom. Prevents healing. A last
fuck you
to their victims.” Logan smirked.

“How did you survive?”

“The one and only time I ever talked to my father. He told me he’d seal the wound only if I vowed to find Gavin and come stay here at the mansion.”

“So, that’s how you came to live here?”

“No. I never sought out Gavin. And I suppose that’s why he let me die when I was stabbed by that little shit ex-boyfriend of yours.”

Remorse tugged her stomach at the memory. “How did you come to live here?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions.”

She smiled. “Last one.”

“Cefirina. She’s like a babysitter for demons. Not sure if Wrath sent her, or Gavin. Not sure about anything, actually. I was pretty fucked up the night she came to me.” He cleared his throat. “And she’s made it clear ever since that she hates me.”

“Wh—?”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “No more questions, Calla. But I have one for you. Are you hungry?”

She smiled. “Starving. But I don’t want food.”

“What do you want?”

Eyes locked on him, she sucked his finger into her mouth, watching the serious knit of his brows soften. She circled her finger over his nipple and replaced it with her tongue at the same time she slid her hand beneath the sheets and seized his already-stiffened length.

His leg flinched and he groaned with the assault.

Sporting a wily grin, she tugged the covers over her head, and as she inched her way down his body, kissing his gloriously chiseled abs along the way, hands hooked beneath her arms.

“I don’t think so. I’m not finished with you.” His gruff voice made her giggle.

With what seemed like little effort, he pulled her up from the sheets to beside him and hiked his leg around hers, trapping her in his embrace.

Not like she’d have gone anywhere, anyway.

Raising her arms above her head with one hand, Logan dragged a finger along her curves and cupped her breast, rubbing a thumb against her nipple.

Her mouth parted against his, allowing a moan to slip between them.

His lips cut in and a hand trailed down her belly to her thighs.

“No, Logan, I can’t do this. I can’t hold it back this time.”

“Don’t make me tie you up, Calla.” The grip on her wrists tightened and he buried his finger inside of her.

Her body arched. “I want to feel
you
inside of me.”

“Shhhh.”

A second finger followed the first.

“Please, Logan. I want you to.”

“Believe me, I really fucking want to.” His fang grazed her collarbone. “But I won’t.”

She kicked a leg out and slid away from him. “I need to feel you. Just once.”

“I said no,” he growled out.

Her eyes must’ve asked the question running through her head.

His gaze fell from hers. “I can’t.”

“What I told you. About Wade. Does that make me”—she swallowed back the tears brimming—“less
desirable
to you?”

Calla watched his eyes turn cold.

Icy.

In one breath, the sadness morphed into something that had her hairs standing on end. She braced herself for the rejection she knew would follow, palms pressed into the bed ready to jump back from the hard lines and evil twist of his lip that promised fury.

Fast as lightning he was on top of her, his mouth at her ear. “Do you want me to tell you a secret?”

The tone of his voice held such wicked carnality, she could hardly muster a breath, let alone the muscle reflex to nod. The sudden switch from hot to cold had her adrenaline rushing, her stomach tight. Goosebumps formed along her skin as his breath feathered her ear.

“I want to slam you against the wall and fuck you so hard the gods will hear you scream my name. I want to bite into that innocent flesh of yours and claim you as mine. Take you any way I want because you
belong
to me.” He nudged her with his telling stiffness. “You feel that? No female before you has ever done these things to me. You make me burn. And I want no other man fucking touching you again unless he wants his nuts severed. You’re a jewel, Calla.
My
jewel. To covet from thieves.”

The breath whooshed out of her. Tremors dispersed along her muscles. Her body turned rigid. Burned for him
.
Chills danced along her spine and squeezed her sex until all she could think about was Logan filling the ache, easing it—the hot and cold sensation exhilarated her body. “Then, do it. Make me yours.”

Something claimed his expression, something Calla struggled to recognize. His shoulders slumped, his eyes affected by weariness. Sadness. Pure, undeniable grief that made her want to grab hold of him. “I can’t.” He rubbed his hand down his face. “Come on. I’ll get you something to eat.”

He pushed off the bed onto the floor and tugged at her arm.

She wrenched back. “No. If not that, then why?”

Logan shook his head. “No questions, Calla. Let’s go.”

“No! You made me give in to you Logan. Now give in to me a little.”

“I’ll carry your ass off the bed if I have to.”

She crossed her arms and dug her heels into the mattress. “Talk.”

Before she could so much as flinch, his palms lodged beneath her legs and behind her back, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. Calla kicked out and pushed at his chest.

As she struggled in his grasp, he hoisted her over his shoulder, fell to a crouch and rose to his feet again, carrying her into the bathroom where he set her down on the floor and tossed the white panties at her.

She hurled them back at his chest and they fell to the floor beside his dropped briefs. She heaved against him for passage, but he blocked her attempt. “I want to leave.”

“You always want to leave when you don’t get your way.”

She cast a hard stare at him. “How dare you? Make me tell you all my darkest secrets. Open up to you.
Expose
myself.” She pushed him one last time. “Jesus, Logan, does being an asshole just come natural for you?”

He set his hands on his naked hips. “My past isn’t pretty, Calla. It’s shit that will make you turn and run. And if it doesn’t, I’d question you.” He shook his head. “Not even my brothers know the whole story.”

“You think I come from white picket fences and happy, sunny days?” She reared back. “I’ve seen families murdered. Wiped blood from my hands. You think what I told you about Wade is
normal
?”

“You’ve seen and experienced some messed up shit, I’ll give you that. But that doesn’t make you less of a person.” He moved a stray hair back behind her ear. “You’re beautiful, in spite of all that.” He shook his head. “There’s an ugly fucking monster that lives inside of me. One I can’t control.”

“Please. Just throw me
something
.”

* * *

Tipping his head back, Logan blew out a breath and rubbed his hands over his crown. When his head fell forward again, that probing fucking stare of hers still hadn’t budged, and he dropped his hands to rest at his hips. “I was …
mated
before.” Logan’s teeth clenched together like he hoped to trap the word before it escaped. He instantly regretted the confession the moment her eyebrow winged up.

“You have a mate?”

“Had.” He bent forward, swiped up his briefs and slipped them over his legs as he talked, all in the effort to avoid eye contact. “She was murdered.”

“By?”

“A high-roller demon.”

“Why?”

“He wanted to know where to find Gavin.” His flat tone warned that he had no intentions of telling her more than that.

“So … you chose Gavin over your mate?”

Fuck, the words made him cringe.

“Gavin killed to save my ass. I owed him. And I wanted to be free.”

“Free?”

“Of the binding. Free of the burden she placed on me with her life.” He tipped his head. “See? I’m an asshole. I also fought and killed for money. Crunked. Fucked. How’s that for a knight in shining armor?”

The crossing of her arms, hiding those breasts in the fold, told him she had no intentions of dropping it.

Stubborn.
“Why do you want this?” He ran his tongue over his back teeth. “With me?”

“Do you have some kind of multiple personality disorder, or something? One minute you’re cocky arrogant Logan. The next, you’re brooding, self-loathing Logan.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Why
not
you?”

“Because being with me means no happy ending. It means getting fucked.”

“I’m not expecting anything from you in return.”

“You’d want that for your first time? Fucked and left?”

Her hand shot out, taking his, and damn her for having the power to pull him in. As she leaned back against the sink, her hand gripped his nape. The tracing of her tongue against his throat silently commanded, and he braced his hands at her hips.

As he ground himself against her, he shuddered a breath.

Her sex pressed right where he needed her, the sensation rendering him dizzy. His fingers dug hard into her hips as anger and sadness swirled together, creating a mishmash of hatred, grief and an overwhelming urge to take her.

The woman had penetrated his defenses. Made him want her, to lap up her beauty and charm.

Like she owned him.

Something dark and fierce rose from the pit of Logan’s gut.

Yeah. All right. He’d fuck her. And gods damn her for being okay with that.

As if to further solidify his thoughts, she pushed her palms flat against his chest, leaned in and whispered, “Please. Take me to the bed.”

Done.

“You want the real me? This is the real me. Raw. Anywhere I want to do you.” He grabbed hold of her hair and licked her neck. “I’ll be the dirtiest fuck you’ve ever had. And one day you’ll thank me, princess.” He pulled her hard against his erection. “Your first fuck. And you’ll be so glad in the end, when you’re
making love
to your perfect husband someday, that you knew to stay away from a bastard like me.”

His anger reached a boiling point. Like some kind of Neanderthal, he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her to the bedroom.