Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (57 page)

Like a wild animal set free from the cage, Ferno’s lip curled and his eyes brimmed with color, red flickering to blue and orange like dancing flames across his irises. His gaze trailed down to Calla then back to Logan. “Now’d be a really good time to clear out.”

CHAPTER 44

Calla’s eyes fluttered open. Even in the darkness, the room held familiarity. The cold of the staunch cellar where she’d spent the last couple of months had been replaced by the scent she lived for.

Logan.

She breathed him in.

Perhaps her tormentor had won, after all, and sent her to heaven.

At a twitch against her palm, Calla lifted her head.

Hunched beside her in a chair, Logan lay sleeping, his hand in hers. So peaceful.

Her heart felt whole at the sight of him, as if she’d stumbled upon the irregular puzzle piece that unexpectedly fit in place. She needed him. Craved his gentle touch with the same fervor as her craving for air.

“Logan?”

His body startled awake, and he heaved a sigh. He slid from the chair onto his knees on the floor, and bowing his head, he took her hand and pressed it to his lips. For what seemed like minutes, he remained knelt beside her until his body shook and the grip on her hand tightened. “By the gods, if I’m dreaming or dead, I vow never to wake.”

“Is this a dream?” she whispered back.

“I’ve had so many now, I don’t know, anymore.” He glanced up at her. How sad he looked compared to the last time she’d seen him. Thinner and more weary.

Her tresses spilled between his fingertips before he buried his face in her hair and drew in a deep breath. “I can’t tell you how much I missed this scent.” His warm breath fell against her neck. “I thought I’d … fuck.” His shaky voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Thought I’d lost you forever back there.” When his head lifted, the streak of a fallen tear glistened down his cheek, and he wiped it on his sleeve.

Calla had never seen him so wounded. It tore at her heart to think she’d been the reason for his sorrow.

He blinked and sniffed, as if desperate to will the tears away. His lips tightened and he swallowed. “Touch me, so I know you’re really here.”

He lifted her hand to his face and Calla flattened her palm against his cheek, wiping the wetness away with her thumb. “I’m here.”

She smiled at what first sounded like laughter, until she realized he’d begun to weep.

Broken.

The sight of his pain spurred tears in her own eyes and a tickle in her throat. Calla wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him into her, if not for the weakness that left her lying immobile.

“Don’t ever leave me again.” Squeezing her hand, he frowned, tears streaming again as if he’d visualized such a thing, before he nestled his face in her neck.

“I promise.” Calla sniveled, strained to wrap both arms around his neck, and kissed his forehead.

Silence hung on the air as they held each other.

She gave a quick glance around the room. “All this time, I thought Ryke was bound to me. He said I couldn’t leave that place.”

“Ryke’s dead. Gavin and I took you to Sabelle. She told me you’d fallen to the Otherrealm. Where souls go soon after death, until they’re sent on to the final destination.”

“Is this the final destination, then?”

“No, baby.” His voice carried a smile. “Sabelle told me you might return. She said Ryke’s claim to you only applied to
your
soul. But you’re attached to another soul—one that couldn’t be taken. You returned to me.” He kissed her throat. “See? Being attached to a motherfucker isn’t all that bad.”

Calla gave a tired shake of her head and continued to stroke his cheek. “I think … she meant someone else.”

He pulled away from her neck, his eyes puzzling hers. “There’s someone else?”

“Logan. I’m …” Her words faltered. “I’m pregnant.”

His face blanched to a pale white, hardened as if turned to stone. Unreadable. His dark eyes looked wider. His jaw slackened—like he’d pass out right there.

Silence lingered for what seemed like forever, before his jaw twitched and his eyes glistened in the darkness of the room. “Ah, hell,” he said, and kissed the palm of her hand.

A surge of relief relaxed her muscles. “You’re not going to ask if it’s yours?”

He shook his head against her belly. “Baby’s mine.”

Tears filled Calla’s eyes and she stroked his hair. “Yes,” she agreed. “There’s no one else.”

“For me, either. It’s only you.” He raised his head and a flash of a smile nearly took her breath away. “Gods, for weeks, I looked for you. And it wasn’t until I ran into Draven that I found you again.”

“Did you … kill him?”

“No. I wanted to. But I didn’t.” He glanced up at her. “Ryke stabbed him with Demortis. He’s dead.”

Calla gave a silent nod.

“Do you feel thirsty? For blood?”

She shook her head. “No. Strange. Maybe its morning sickness, but I haven’t craved blood in quite some time.”

“The baby. Unlike human babies, demon blood circulates in the mother’s. He’s keeping you strong. Killing off the Sangexzha.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“A demon baby is much stronger.” Logan crawled into bed beside her. His arm carefully slid beneath her, and with a gentle tug, he pulled her into him.

That scent, like his own brand of warmth and protection, clung to his black T-shirt. How she’d missed it.

“If you need anything, you come to me. Hear? No flashing.” He stroked her hair as he spoke. “I’ll take care of everything. Whatever you need.”

“And if I should … need
blood
?” She shook her head. “I can’t take a life. And human blood without the Alexi antibodies doesn’t keep me going for long.”

“You shouldn’t need blood during the pregnancy, anyway. After that, we’ll figure it out.”

“I thought I was going to die back there. In chains, thinking it was over. Your face came to mind and I found strength. I snapped the chains like they were nothing. You made me hard to break.”

He smiled.

“What?” she asked.

“You make me easy to break. You’re my only weakness.”

She nuzzled into his chest. “Well, how’s that for a perfect match?”

“Much as I’d love to take credit, I think it was the baby that gave you the strength to break the chains.” He kissed the top of her head. “Do you need anything?”

“Just you.”

“And that you have, tazschla. Sleep, then. You need the rest.”

With each light stroke of her hair, Logan pushed her closer to slumber. In his arms, her body grew heavy, until the world drifted away, disappearing into the sweet contentment of everything feeling so right for once.

* * *

Logan stroked Calla’s face and planted a kiss on her forehead, once she’d finally fallen asleep, but his stomach had sank with her uttered words and had yet to reestablish its position.

Dragging a trembling hand across his brow, he exhaled a shaky breath. A baby? Pregnant with
his
child?

Jesus
.

It’d taken everything inside of him not to annihilate the moment by throwing up all over her.

With the unrelenting worry tearing at his conscience, Logan rose from the bed without disturbing his sleeping angel. Lying next to her only gave him the urge to crack inside.

He made his way from the room and balanced at the head of the stairs. Below, light from Gavin’s office fanned beneath the door, and he headed down, knocking before entering.

Only the crown of Gavin’s head showed over his rear-facing chair, until Logan cleared his throat, and Gavin spun around.

Drink in hand, his body held the weary effort of someone who’d had the shit truly beat out of him—not physically but mentally. His deep red eyes told tales of no sleep. “How goes it, Brother?” he asked.

“You look like shit.”

“You look less like shit.” Gavin smiled.

Logan walked over to the mini bar and made himself a drink before taking a seat in front of Gavin’s desk. He stared down into the amber fluid, as if somewhere from within its depths the right words would materialize.

Goddamn, it seemed all he ever did was come to Gavin with problems. Even so, he muttered, “Calla’s pregnant.”

Gavin’s silence and direct stare didn’t help eliminate the churning in Logan’s gut. “Yours?”

Logan nodded. “She hasn’t had a craving for blood.”

Gavin’s shoulders slumped.

“Look, I know what happens. I’ll figure this out.” Logan swiped at his nose. “We’ll just lay low for a while.”

“Lay low? Logan, they will find out. They know these things.” Gavin shook his head. “Christ, you spent fifty years in prison for laying low.”

“I’m not asking you for anything Gavin. I just thought you should know.”

“How far is she?”

“About a month.”

“And what are her thoughts about this?”

Logan shrugged. “Happy, I guess. She seemed nervous to tell me.” He glanced away and frowned. “I’m not asking her to destroy it, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“You’ll have to choose. The demon Council will force you to choose between her and the baby. You know this.”

Logan set the drink on the desk and buried his face in his palms. “Fuck, man. I know.” He damn near rubbed his skull raw. “She’s all there is for me.”

“How did you manage bonded sex with her?”

“Everything was natural with Calla. Everything about her sets me on fire. I guess my body knew.” He blew out a heavy breath and glanced up. “I was messed up on Abyzz, okay?”

Gavin nodded like he was already figuring it all out. “We’ll seek counsel on this. I’ve a friend with legal ties to the underworld. You obviously can’t be without her. And I’ll not stand by and let them murder my unborn nephew.” He knocked his fists together as he talked. “The Orcosii is a very powerful force in the underworld, Logan. I can’t make promises. In the meantime, go easy. And try not to get too attached.” The earnest look on Gavin’s face told Logan he struggled to say the words—as if he shared the knots twisting in Logan’s gut. “For your own sake,” he added.

Logan nodded. “Thanks. Again.”

* * *

Calla shot up out of bed, a scream ripping through her chest, and her body trembling.

Strong, warm arms wrapped around her and pulled her back. “It’s okay, baby. I’m right here. Just a dream.”

She fell into Logan’s embrace and a harsh swallow burned her chest. “So horrible.”

“What did you dream?”

“That … I … we … the baby … that creature held … dead in its arms.”

The sound of her own words drudged such misery inside of her, stirred something deep in her soul.

Never
, she promised herself.
Nothing will ever hurt this baby
.

As Logan stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, her muscles relaxed once more. He lay back against the bed, one hand rested on her hip as the other held her to him. “How are your wounds?” When he peeled back her shirt to expose her skin, pain riddled his expression. “I’d kill the fuck again. Over and over.”

“Logan,” she whispered. “I’m okay.” Calla leaned forward and kissed him. A moan rumbled in her throat at the press of his pouty lower lip against hers.

So right.

His hand stroked her thigh, and when he squeezed it, she broke the kiss with a gasp. Against the sting of her healing wounds, she rolled and straddled him, kissed down his to his throat. No desire to puncture his vein arrived. Only for the taste of his skin on her tongue.

Pushing back, eyes focused on his, Calla removed his shirt that she wore, revealing her breasts that, to her, felt large and heavy.

“So fucking sexy.” His fingertips made contact and Calla tipped her head back.

So sensitive.
His caress clenched her stomach and traveled right to her core. “I love when you touch me,” she breathed. “I can’t tell you how much I missed your hands on me.”

Grabbing the small of her back, he gently flipped her over until he was on top. “Then, I’ll touch you everywhere.”

With his big body braced above hers with one arm, he traced her collarbone with his fingertips. As he lowered his head and suckled her breast, Calla arched into him.

Her entire body yearned for the contact of his. Not just the feel of his skin. She wanted to absorb him into every cell of her being.

His hands roamed freely, while his mouth and tongue played wickedly against her flesh.

“Logan. I need you.”

The fondling stopped. When she opened her eyes, his face came into view.

“Are you sure about this, Calla?”

“Yes. We’ve already …”

“We were both out of sorts.”