To Hell and Back (2 page)
Logan Winters world was about to implode and he had no way of stopping it.
K
IRA STRETCHED SLOWLY,
a soft smile falling over her face as a twinge in her lower back made her groan. Pleasure and pain. Two things that went hand in hand, and lately, two things that gave her more joy than she’d ever thought possible.
She snuggled into the pale green comforter, inhaled Logan’s scent, and let it settle deep inside. She thought that maybe his heat still clung to the sheets and her fingers ran along them, fingering the soft cotton, a wistful smile touching her mouth. He was her world. Her everything. He was the reason she lived and breathed. A sigh escaped her lips. Logan Winters was her beast and her lover all rolled into one delectable, hard-bodied, passionate package. Sure, he could be a bit of an ass sometimes—he was a hellhound, enough said—but he was tattooed to her heart and soul and she felt his love in every look and touch.
Slowly she gazed around the room. Sunlight filtered in through the large window, bathing everything in a wash of gold. The antique whitewashed furniture was light and airy, as were the pale greens and creams that dressed both the walls and the décor. Above a low-slung settee was a black-and-white picture—a train station from the 1800s. There was a man and a woman. They clung together as if each needed the other to breathe … a long kiss good-bye.
It was somehow perfect.
The bed-and-breakfast was quaint. Well over a hundred years in age, it was a century home that at one time had been part of a vast estate, the house itself was large, and the room they’d been given was in the converted attic. That the room was vacant when the town was full to bursting wasn’t so much a coincidence as the fact that Logan was used to getting what he wanted. Sure, he’d compelled the front-desk clerk, and normally Kira didn’t approve of that, but as she flung her arm above her head, she smiled. And then winced.
A twinge pulled at a muscle in her side. A twinge that told her she’d been loved thoroughly, wantonly. Oh yeah, this time she approved wholeheartedly.
She’d barely been through the door last night before his hands had felt up every inch of her. And she’d let him. She’d let him undress her and touch her and kiss her and … Kira exhaled, a blush staining her cheeks. God, she’d let him do whatever he’d wanted to.
For a moment she languished in the glow of their lovemaking, her limbs heavy, an ache growing once more between her legs. Images of entwined limbs, of dark flesh against pale settled in her mind. Logan’s hands and lips—sliding, caressing, touching every inch of her as she writhed in passion.. She moved her knees, which only increased the friction down where she was already soft and wet.
She groaned and turned into the pillow, and eventually hunger pains cramped her stomach. Kira rolled over once more, this time all the way, and was on her feet. A quick glance at the clock told her Logan had been gone less than five minutes and he’d be back soon, loaded down with food. His appetite was vast and hers was slowly improving. She grabbed her bag and headed into the shower, whistling a tune of fancy as she slid under the hot spray.
Ten minutes later, she was dressed in faded jeans, boots, and a black cable-knit turtleneck that was warm enough to ward off the fall chill. Her leather jacket lay across the end of the bed along with their bag. She knew they weren’t far from their destination, wherever the hell it was. Logan had said as much the day before, and she wanted to explore this quaint Halloween town before they took off.
The clock was ticking. Logan had given in to her last night, but she knew the hellhound would not waver from their path any longer. They could take the morning but not much more.
Kira chewed on her bottom lip. Where was he?
She crossed to the window and gazed down at the street below. Already filled with hordes of people, it was a mishmash of color, sound, and frenetic energy. In the middle of the square, directly across the street, was a festive display unlike any she’d ever seen.. She smiled and tugged the curtain a few more inches so she could see it better. It was a pyramid made entirely of pumpkins. She’d seen it briefly last night as she and Logan had passed by. No doubt the local children had carved each one and they’d done a beautiful job.
Kira’s hand fell beneath her sweater and rested against her flat stomach. She exhaled slowly, her thoughts elsewhere. Her mind filled with images of a round impish face, dark hair, and a wicked smile. For a moment she saw nothing else but the face that haunted her dreams, a sweet angelic face with eyes like Logan’s.
Somewhere behind her something buzzed, and slowly the image faded until her vision filled once more with the square below. Kids ran about, tugging on their parents’ arms, their small bodies encased in heavy jackets and hats. It was cold, and a brisk wind carried baskets of leaves from the trees, scattering them into a colorful carpet along the sidewalks.
A man stood across the way. She noticed him because in a world of burnt oranges and vibrant reds, he didn’t belong. Dressed in black from head to toe, with wide shoulders and long legs, he was an imposing figure. Like Logan, his hair was longer than was fashionable, but his features were cloaked in darkness.
Unease burrowed in her gut, and when his head tipped upward, she inhaled sharply and stood back. He didn’t look away, and though she knew it was impossible for him to penetrate the reflection in the window, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew she was there.
She swallowed, though her throat was dry and sweat beaded her top lip as she watched the stranger hold a phone to his ear. Even though he slanted his head to the side he didn’t take his gaze from her window.
She jumped when the buzzing behind her started up once more and turned toward the high dresser opposite the bed. A cell phone. Logan’s phone. She glanced at the clock on the table beside an overstuffed green-and-black-plaid chair. The hands pointed to 8:30 and the unease in her gut tripled. She stared at the clock for several long moments. Logan should definitely have been back by now.
His phone continued to vibrate. She crossed the room and slowly reached for it, cheeks flush with heat, stomach tied in knots. But just as she picked it up, the cell phone went quiet.
For a second her heart pounded so fast and hard that she had to catch her breath. She tiptoed back to the window, but when she carefully looked outside, the stranger was gone. A red balloon floated up in the air until it caught on the branches of an oak tree. She stared at it for several seconds, Logan’s cell phone in her hand. When the balloon suddenly snapped free, she took a step back and exhaled.
What was wrong with her?
Kira ran a shaky hand through her newly dyed hair and sprang into action. Something was up. Logan should have been back by now. She forced her hands to stop trembling as she reached for her jacket. After sliding into it, she tossed her toiletry bag into the large one she and Logan shared, and slung it over her shoulder. With one last look around she moved toward the door. She’d find Logan, and as much as she wanted to explore Waterford and all of its Halloween goodness, maybe he was right. Maybe they should leave right away.
Her hand reached for the doorknob, and just as she was about to turn it, Logan’s cell phone rang out shrilly. The sound grated on her already frayed nerves.
“Dammit.” But maybe it was Logan?
With one hand on the doorknob and the other retrieving his cell from her pocket, she paused and took a second to look at the screen on his phone. “P” was all it said. It wasn’t Logan, but who was it?
Head bowed, she yanked open the door and froze.
Heavy, military-style filled her vision. Mud had dried along their edges, and she noticed bits of dried debris on the faded beige carpet. They weren’t Logan’s boots.
She swallowed and her gaze rose slowly, past long, muscular legs, a broad chest, and wide shoulders, until she rested her eyes on a man she’d never met before. She gulped back a pang of fear and froze.
He was a dangerous, lethal sort. She could tell. It was in his ice-blue eyes, aristocratic chin, and nose. His full mouth was pursed as if he was annoyed, and his brows were furrowed. His hair was thick and black, shot through with bits of silver. He pushed a long piece away from his face impatiently, his expression darkening even more, and Kira hoped he didn’t know how scared she was.
He was the man in black from the square. He was twice her size and there was no way Kira could get around him.
“Who are you?” he said harshly, his cell phone in hand while Logan’s still rang in hers. He hit a button and the sound stopped, leaving them with nothing but a dangerous silence between them.
Kira’s gut roiled but she refused to look away. Logan had taught her a few things and she knew she couldn’t show weakness. Even though she wanted to slam the door shut and hide, she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye.
“Who the hell are you?” she answered instead, hoping the tremor that laced her words wasn’t too evident.
He studied her for a few moments, his steely eyes never wavering. He nodded to the cell in her hand. “That’s not yours.”
She shrugged. “No, it’s not.”
He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and Kira had to move back an inch or so. As well as being dangerous, this stranger was an arrogant son of a bitch. “Where is he?” Brow arched, he waited for her answer, but she wasn’t fooled. He was neither relaxed nor friendly.
Alarm rifled through her, but before she could react, the man pushed away from the door, his long limbs unfolding with surprising grace and a whole lot of strength. She stumbled backward and swore softly as it closed behind him.
Kira tried like hell to control her erratic breathing, but it was hard. She was scared. Rattled. And—as she gazed around the empty room—alone with a man who could tear her apart before she even opened her mouth to scream. The problem was, she didn’t know if he was friend or foe. Was he part of the league? Was he connected somehow to Logan and his friend Bill?
She’d met him once—Bill, an original seraphim and head of the league of guardians—and Logan trusted him. Apparently the only reason she was alive was because of Bill—because he’d ordered Logan to retrieve her from the gray realm.
The stranger pocketed his phone and glanced behind her, at the bed with its tumbled sheets, at the pillows strewn across them. The mess said lovemaking loud and clear. His nostrils flared and his gaze swung back to her, his eyes slowly traveling from the top of her head to the bottom of her boot-clad toes. She knew what he was thinking and she raised her chin.
“I’m not going to ask again. I need to find Logan.” His voice was subdued, but there was a hard glint in his eyes.
She arched a brow and carefully tugged the edge of her jacket sleeves so that her wrists were covered. The scars there were too personal … too painful for anyone but Logan to see.
Where are you?
For the moment she didn’t sense danger, but in this world where nothing was as it seemed, she knew things could change in a heartbeat. There was a knife in her bag, a charmed dagger Logan had given her. He’d told her to always keep it on her body because she’d never know when it would come in handy. Smart words. Too bad she’d not listened.
“I don’t know—”
“Cut the crap.” He spoke with some kind of accent, one she couldn’t place. For a second her gaze ran over him. She noticed how long and elegant his fingers were. It was unexpected, when paired with the powerfully intimidating figure he presented.
She narrowed her eyes, the bag now loose in her hands, having slid from her shoulder. “I’ll give him a message.” There was no point lying; the man knew Logan had been here, and for the first time real fear seeped into her bones. Something was off. Really wrong.
The stranger ran fingers through the long strands of hair at his nape and swore, something unintelligible. But it was a curse. There was no mistaking his anger, or the tense set to his features.
“How long has he been missing?” he asked harshly.
“Missing?” Alarm filled her eyes. “He went for food …”
Oh God
. She fell silent and stared at the stranger.
“Fuck.”
He grabbed his cell and turned slightly. He waited a few moments. She slid her hand inside the bag and felt the cold, hard blade, but she froze when he spoke.
“Cale, it’s me.”
A pause.
“I’m here, he’s not.” The man’s eyebrows lifted as he glanced at her once more and she thought that maybe they’d softened a bit. “Yeah, she’s safe for the moment.” He nodded and then pocketed his cell phone without saying another word.
For a few moments neither spoke, and then he tipped his head toward the bag in her hands. “Save it. I’m not the enemy.” His hand reached for the door. “We have to go.”
Fear slammed into her gut. “Where’s Logan? I’m not going anywhere without him.”
Something in his eyes told her that things were much worse than she’d imagined. The fear inside her doubled and she sank onto the bed. “No,” she whispered and shook her head. “I can’t leave without him.”
He crossed over to her and knelt down, though his eyes remained as hard and unyielding as the rest of him. “Look, I don’t have time to babysit. This is life and death.” She looked away, hating his intensity, his large frame … his overwhelming maleness. But he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed her chin and when she would have yanked away, he held firm and forced her head back so that he could look into her eyes. So that she could see the truth.
“They know about you and they won’t stop. I need to get you the hell away from here or your ass is toast.”
A whimper escaped her lips as his fingers dug in. He arched a brow, voice low and steady. When he spoke, it was slowly, as if he was talking to a child. “Do you understand?”
He let go and Kira nodded, her thoughts chaotic, her heart breaking.
“But Logan—” Her voice broke and she couldn’t finish.
“Logan’s not here right now, I am.” He stood abruptly. “Let’s go.”
“Is he alive?” she whispered. She knew what monsters hunted her, and if he’d come to harm, the blame lay squarely on her shoulders.