Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (7 page)

“Motherfucker!” Draven kicked against the metal, pushing himself away to break from bullhead’s iron grip. Laughter bounced inside the room. Onlookers.

Ryke turned around, his lip curving into a smile. Those sapphire eyes focused beyond Draven. Not a word spoken. The grip around Draven’s throat slackened and a thrust from behind knocked him forward a step, where he stumbled over himself, falling onto the front row of chairs.

More laughter.

Draven rubbed his throat where he’d been handled.

“Watch your back.” Amusement bled into Ryke’s words. With a jerk of his head, he urged Draven to follow.

Keeping his distance from the cage, Draven continued on.

Through a door at the opposite end of the auditorium, lights burst into the darkness, so bright they almost blinded Draven as they walked a narrow hallway. He imagined it’d been used as a back entrance for actors and actresses at one time.

To think there’d once been innocent entertainment in the place.

Ryke stopped in front of a door and drew out a stick of white chalk. An old, decaying star hung loosely against the panels. Below it, a fading nameplate had Ethel Barrymore scratched into it.

Placing his tool against the wall, Ryke drew an enormous circle around the door before resting his hand in the center of it. As he spoke a chant, the entire wall within the circle opened to some kind of dark tunnel. Ryke entered without a glance back. As if nothing seemed even remotely fucked up about the
wall
dissolving to expose what could be another dimension.

Draven took a step forward, but hesitated.

Could it be any worse than where he’d just come?

Blowing out a breath, he stepped into the dark passage.

* * *

Logan groaned, his throat burning for even a single sip of water.
Not happening.
He’d already sent his nursemaid away, the mere thought of her hanging around him all day like a jackhammer against his skull. Did his brothers think it was a fucking joke?

If not for her, that little prick he’d come across trying to rape her wouldn’t have stabbed him. “Should’ve left it alone,” Logan mumbled. As soon as the paralysis wore off, he’d be after that little shit.
What’s his name?

And how the hell did he get his hands on Demortis, anyway?

Worse yet, who’d invited him into the mansion?

As if lamenting over his own stupidity wasn’t enough to make him wish for something sharp to fall from the ceiling and pierce his chest, guilt loomed like a shitty waitress, waiting to serve up a tasty dish of enslavement to Gavin. By a succubus no less, whose claws were just itching to get a piece of Logan’s brother after he’d fired her earlier in the week. Bitch must’ve jumped at the opportunity to resurrect Logan and secure Gavin a ticket straight into her twisted playground of hell.

Nothing in the world could possibly be worse than owing a succubus. There had to be a way to get Gavin out of his commitment to her. Once Logan could feel his limbs, he’d see to it that she take him prisoner instead of his brother, who’d already paid a hefty price of blood and gore on Logan’s behalf once. Gods be damned if he’d let him do it twice.

Not like it’d make much difference, anyway.

Being imprisoned must’ve been coded somewhere in Logan’s DNA. First by his mother the moment she birthed his sorry ass into the world, then the most feared demon prison of the underworld, Obsidius.

Damn his to-do list that stretched far too long for him to be lying useless. The matter of hunting down the cocksucker who’d stabbed him still remained at the top of it, but before any of that, he had to find a way to get that girl out of his house, because it seemed wherever she roamed, trouble followed.

Hell, if he needed more trouble in his life.

The click of the door broke Logan’s thoughts. “Who’s there?”

“Just me, Master Logan.” Anna’s face came into view. “On my way to the kitchen. Can I get you anything?”

“Water,” Logan’s gritty, abused voice hardly carried across the room.

“Of course.” She adjusted the sheets over him. “Master …”

Logan waited a moment. “What?”

“Oh. Nothing. It’s nothing, I suppose.”

“What?” His flat tone held about the same enthusiasm as the apathy he felt, knowing what she’d say.

“If I may speak candidly, sir.” Anna cleared her throat and sat down beside him. “Miss Calla meant well. She’s been through a very traumatic evening. Lost her brother to a pack of lycans. Perhaps you might … go
easier
on her. Sir.”

Go easy on her?
Was she not part of the reason he lay unable to move on the bed?
And she cried for the son of a bitch who’d tried to rape her!

“From what I’ve gathered,” Anna said, “it was this boyfriend of hers that was responsible for his death. Draven.”

Draven.
Lightning cracked against his spine, and a jolt of fury rumbled inside of Logan, tensing his muscles. The little shit’s name that he’d heard earlier in the day.

“Anyway,” Anna continued, “I just thought you should know.”

Logan didn’t say a word. Why should he? He didn’t owe Calla anything.

Anna turned from the bed. “I’ll go get you that water, master.”

“Thanks.”

The click of the door indicated she’d left the room.
Calla.
His thoughts drifted momentarily back to the hallucination earlier—her lying in a pool of her own blood. Helpless. How different she looked as she peered down at him when he’d awakened.

Vibrant and full of life. Yeah, okay, beautiful, too.

He sucked in a deep breath and his stare fell down his paralyzed body—to where the sheets had tented above an obvious hard-on his numb body wouldn’t let him sense. “You got to be fucking kidding me?”

From her? Hell, no.
As if his entire body mocked him. “Masochistic son of bitch. You’re just glutton for punishment, aren’t ya?”

Goddamn, the cadaver bullshit needed to pass soon so he could get back to his life.

CHAPTER 5

As the eldest of the Wrath Brothers, everything fell on Gavin’s shoulders: business, brotherhood, enslavement to a woman who hated his guts. His sigh echoed in the shower as he rested his head against the tiles and allowed the warmth to trickle down his back.

Damn.

He’d be subjected to the succubus for as long as she fancied the idea of having a slave.

His brother, Logan, was alive because of her, though.

She could have turned him down when he’d come asking her to save Logan’s life. Even with the prospect of enslavement being the payment for such a request, she could have let Logan die in retaliation for Gavin having fired her earlier in the week.

That’s it, Gavin. Think. Fucking. Positive.

“I suppose I should be the one to drive her home,” he muttered before lifting his head back into the water.

Gavin finished showering and, as always, took his time getting dressed. Looking good was just as important as making sound decisions in the business world, and as the head boss of Sanctuary, it was his job to set the example for his brothers, who, aside from Calix, would probably show up in leathers and T-shirts everyday like some reject punk band.

As Gavin strolled down the stairs, Ben slid Sabelle’s coat over her shoulders. The expression on her face made it clear she was neither accustomed nor comfortable with being helped. Her children, Thomas and Jane, with their spongy blond curls, giggled as Anna kneeled before them and poked and tickled them. Sabelle clasped her hands, smiling as the old woman incited a cacophony of laughter from the two.

“Ben,” Gavin said on the approach, “I’ll take her home.”

The smile on Sabelle’s face vanished, and her eyebrows came together in an expression of discomfort as she grabbed the hands of her children, who immediately quieted. “I can call a cab. You don’t—”

“Nonsense,” Gavin said. “I’m heading to the casino. It’s no trouble.”

Sabelle nodded, keeping her gaze cast down toward her children. As twins, they were both about the same height with many of the same features. Aside from the hair color, the emerald green of Jane’s eyes matched her mother’s. Thomas’s eyes were a deep cerulean—like Gavin’s brother, Calix, who was also part incubus. As the son of a succubus, Thomas was destined to be just as physically attractive as Calix—a trait designed to attract their victims. Succubi also sought out victims, but much less aggressively than their male counterpart.

“So …” Gavin crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his head, “Thomas and Jane, how did you sleep?” he asked, highlighting his lack of experience in toddler conversation.

Both children tucked their faces into their mother’s coat. She nudged their hands, still clasped in hers. “Now, say thank you to Mr. Gavin for allowing us to stay in his nice home.”

Muffled ‘thank you’s came from both children.

Gavin smirked. “We’re happy to have you here.” He glanced up at Sabelle and huffed. “Shall we?”

“Yeah.” She followed behind as he led her to the Mercedes parked in front of the mansion. After arranging the children in the back seat, buckling them securely, she slipped into the passenger seat beside Gavin. “Can you … please not drive as crazy as you did last night?”

Gavin smiled. “It was a matter of life or death last night.”

“You doubted me?”

He fired up the car and caught a glimpse of her staring at him. “A little.”

Sabelle nodded. “Honesty. Wow. Never thought I’d appreciate it so much.”

“What can we expect? Full recovery now?”

“He should be fine, assuming the blonde’s blood was pure. Though she might find herself in an interesting position once he gains his strength.”

“Interesting?”

“Their souls are bound now. Her blood runs through him. Do the math.”

Interesting indeed.
Who the hell knew what that might mean for a detached personality like Logan?
Poor Calla
. After having shared blood during their torture in Obsidius, the Alcatraz equivalent for demons, Gavin knew firsthand what it felt like to be tied to his livewire brother—something akin to being dragged around by a rabid Pit Bull on a leash. She’d been through so much with her own brother and the abuse she’d endured at the Alexi compound.

Gavin frowned, suddenly feeling like a bastard for offering her up to save Logan, who surely wouldn’t be gracious about it, before glancing at Sabelle again. “Thank you for saving his life.”

“Not a big deal.” Sabelle turned her attention toward the window.

Thomas and Jane remained silent in the backseat. Were all children so behaved? No. He’d had many experiences during social events with business acquaintances and their unruly children that made him yearn for a stiff drink.

These kids were as angelic as their faces.

Gavin pulled curbside to Sabelle’s rundown home on a shitty corner of the shitty side of Detroit. How she could come home to the place every night baffled him. Part of him wanted to tell her he was sorry for firing her, since the whole enslavement detail still loomed. “So about payment.”

“Look, can we talk about this later?” She gave a swift look over her shoulder. “Maybe when my kids aren’t in the back seat?”

Gavin twisted to check behind. The two sat with gazes downcast and hands in their laps, as quiet as ever. “Sure,” he said, turning back to Sabelle. “Forgive me. Just call the casino when you’re ready to discuss it. I’d like to begin right away. I’m not particularly fond of debts.”

She nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”

CHAPTER 6

The wall opened up to the alley Draven had arrived via the night before. The Shine he’d taken left him a little unsteady on his feet as he stepped out into the sunlight and turned to see the hole sealing Ryke’s butler on the other side.

The supernatural shit gave him the creeps.

An ache throbbed in his muscles, courtesy of the brunette he’d jack-hammered most of the night—a gift from Ryke for having taken down Logan—as he glanced around at the overflowing dumpster and trash-littered alley. No humans. Of course not. The supes probably snatched them up like feral cats chasing rodents on a farm.

He’d have to stay out of sight.

Though the demons weren’t known for coming out much during the day, they had good reason to consider it in his case. First time in his life his sorry ass was worth something. Killing one of them had placed Draven on their top ten most wanted list. Out in the open, he felt exposed, his muscles one quiver from snapping as if the whizz of a dagger would fly out of nowhere and pierce him where it counted.

He pulled his hoodie up over his head and tucked his hands into his pockets, shivering the sensation away and tightening his muscles.

The hunt for the other displaced Alexi had begun. Draven already had a good idea where he’d find most of them—probably clustered together and relying on the strongest of them to stay out of danger. The perfect opportunity for Draven. He’d long been recognized as a top-ranking soldier and their minds weren’t primed for anarchy. Even Draven himself, with the anger he harbored for Wade, would’ve stayed if Calla hadn’t been the pawn in question.