Wrong Side of Hell Page 8

  He glanced down at her. She was surprising to him . . . for a human, and that was saying something. They were a race of beings he’d always thought of as weak, and he’d never much cared for them. Not the way Bill did. He had to wonder what it was about Kira that made her of special interest for those of the otherworld. Especially the one who was here, tracking her in the gray realm.

  His mouth tightened at the thought of the faceless assassin. Damn, but he’d love a chance at his ass—how cowardly to stalk a human girl with no chance of protecting herself. Logan snarled and clenched his hands. He might get a chance yet.

  He hazarded a glance behind them but wasn’t able to penetrate through the fog that swirled ever faster. At the moment it seemed they were alone.

  He’d found the smallest thread of a scent that could be what he was looking for. French toast? Who knew, but it was sweet—sickeningly so—and more importantly, it was linked to Kira’s scent, which carried bits of sun and soul.

  Logan grabbed her hand and guided her to the right. The wind picked up—slicing through the mist and thinning it—as it swept along the ground in turbulent gusts. At his feet the concrete suddenly gave way to soft grass, his heavy boots sinking into its softness, and he sniffed—water was nearby.

  One second they were rushing through gray; the next, they were nearly blinded by sunlight.

  Logan pulled up at the sight before him—an opulent house faced with delicate pink stucco and white trim, a sea of green and blue, and a riot of color everywhere else.

  Kira trembled in his grasp and he watched as her face came alive. Her eyes widened—their recesses shiny, now reflective pools of onyx—and her generous mouth curved into a soft smile. For a few seconds she appeared much younger, as if no worry lived inside her soul. Long hair wafted about her face, and he reached for a tendril that floated behind her ear but stopped short of touching it.

  What the hell was he doing?

  He cleared his throat and extricated his hand from hers. She didn’t seem to notice, and he followed as she began to jog and then run toward the pool.

  This backyard oasis was alive with color. No gray existed here. Gardens fell along the fence, a riot of pinks, oranges, yellows, and purples. Tall, exotic trees lined the border, a fountain with a mermaid shooting water several feet in the air lay to his left—its gray foundation was bordered by the bluest irises he’d ever seen.

  Logan snorted at the thought. He supposed most creatures—human or otherworld—would be surprised that he had a bit of a green thumb. Gardening was his therapy. When he’d been imprisoned in the Pit, the one thing he missed most was the garden he kept at his home.

  There was something beautiful in the simple organic makeup of plants.

  His gaze drifted toward the pool. This was extravagant, even for the well-heeled and moneyed humans who dwelled in Beverly Hills. Several waterfalls dropped buckets of shimmery, fresh liquid—the color of the deepest part of the Caribbean—into the pool. There was a diving board, hot tub off to the right, and to his left an impressive swim-up bar.

  “Nana.”

  Kira’s tortured whisper drew his gaze and he started forward with purpose. Time was wasting and there was someone beyond the pool. He couldn’t see who it was, but the presence held power.

  He reached the patio a second behind Kira, and watched closely as an old woman turned toward them. Her hair was silver and fell past her shoulders in long waves, the face warm and kind—though her eyes were much colder when they landed on Logan.

  She was otherworld—the scent was unmistakable—though Logan couldn’t quite determine exactly what she was.

  “Catherine . . . I thought you were Nana.” Disappointment rang in Kira’s voice and her shoulders slumped slightly as she exhaled a long, shuddering breath.

  “No, my dear, she moved on a long time ago.” The woman glanced up at Logan and she frowned, her brows drawn tight. “You’re guiding her back?”

  Logan nodded, well aware of the distaste that sat in the old woman’s eyes. He smiled, a fuck-you salute. “Unless you’ve got someone else who can get the job done.”

  Her eyes narrowed for a second, but then she ignored him and turned to Kira. “I’ve been waiting for you, but make no mistake, you’re in grave danger. We’ve got to hurry.” The woman glanced behind Logan, her lips tight as she shook her head. “They’re not far behind. Follow me.”

  Logan prodded Kira forward and they disappeared inside after the old woman. The house was as impressive as the outside—humans seemed to love rich, exotic things. And the ones who could afford these rich trappings seemed to have the least amount of taste. The old adage “less is more” sure as hell didn’t live in this house.

  He ignored all of it and followed Kira and the woman, Catherine, through a kitchen and up a large, circular stairway that led to a posh upper level.

  He knew this home. He’d been in it fifteen years earlier. It was exactly as he remembered.

  “Here we are, dear.” The woman smoothed wrinkled, worn hands over the long, colorful skirt she wore. Bangles jingled at her wrist, sounding like tinkling water.

  Kira stepped forward and hugged the old lady tightly and whispered, “Thank you.”

  Catherine glanced at Logan and even he was impressed with how fast the warmth fled her eyes. “Take care of her, hound, or I shall haunt you for eternity.” She stepped out of Kira’s embrace and motioned toward the far end of the landing. “Hurry, hurry.”

  Logan tapped Kira on the shoulder. “We have to go.”

  She nodded and pointed toward the far end of the landing. “My room is there.”

  He knew that, of course, but remained silent as he followed her. She threw open the door and Logan blinked. Shit, he didn’t remember it being so . . . nauseatingly girlish. An assault of pink and white greeted him, as if a bag of marshmallows and cotton candy had exploded everywhere.

  The door closed behind him and he moved into the room, nostrils flaring as he opened up his senses and scanned the entire perimeter. On a large pedestal base, in the center of the room, was a four-poster bed. White gauzy wisps of fabric fell from the ceiling to touch the floor around it. Off to the right a small white sofa and table were arranged beneath the window. Books and magazines were scattered across the table and a large dollhouse stood nearby.

  With eyes closed he visualized Kira’s energy, those shimmering threads of her soul, and he followed the wispy strands. They led him to her bedroom closet.

  “Well, this is cliché,” he murmured. “All right, let’s do this.” The door opened beneath his fingers, exposing a large walk-in. The energy inside the room pulsed with otherworld magic and he knew the portal was still there. Lucky for them—the damn things had a habit of moving around at will, especially in this realm.

  “Let’s go, Kira.”

  Logan glanced back and froze. She stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror—inches from it—her fingers upon her face as she stared at herself. She looked sad, lost. When she looked up suddenly and their eyes met, something twisted inside of Logan. Something hard. It was a physical reaction and the muscles in his gut tightened. What it was he reacted to, he couldn’t be sure of. The only thing he did know was that he didn’t like it.

  Not one bit.

  “I don’t . . .” Her eyes dropped to the ground, her voice was barely heard. “I don’t really look like this.” Her shoulders hunched forward. “Not back there.” She paused and then looked up, her dark eyes haunting as she stared at him through the mirror. “Not anymore.”

  Suddenly he understood. “I know.” He answered gruffly.

  Surprise flickered in her eyes and she turned to him. “But how would you . . . we’ve never met. I mean, not as adults.”

  She ran her tongue along her dry lips. The action drew his eyes and he spent more time than he should have staring at her mouth. Those full lips that were made for sliding and licking and—his groin tightened—all sorts of things he shouldn’t be thinking about.

  “How
do you know what I look like?”

  “I tracked you from the morgue.”

  “The morgue,” she repeated, a slight tremor riding her words. “Right.” She crossed the room until she stood so close he could touch her. When she looked up at him the sorrow that lay in her eyes punched him in the gut. “I’m dead. So, back there,” she blew out a shuddering breath, “back there I’m nothing and after we go back, what are my chances? Am I going to make it?”

  The air thickened. Logan was hot and irritated.

  Her scent washed over him, the purity of it, and the warmth that was woven into her signature left him tight. His gut churned as he stared down into her dark eyes.

  Damn, but he should have tapped that blonde at the bar before Bill had shown. He rolled his shoulders. It had been too long. Now was not the time to be thinking of his dick.

  “I’m not going to lie,” he said carefully. “I’ve never brought anyone back from the gray realm, and if we’re successful in navigating this portal together,” he shrugged, “I have no clue what condition your body is in. Time moves differently here. What seems like a few hours to us might be days in the human realm—or seconds.” He shook his head. “It’s a total fucking crapshoot.”

  “I could end up dead, forever dead.”

  The window was open and the breeze that flew in carried the stink of demon. In the distance the mad barking dog broke through the silence and Logan knew their time was up. The trojans weren’t far behind.

  “Little Dove, you’re already dead. If you stay here you’ll end up much worse.” He nodded outside. “Whatever is out there will end you, understand? You will cease to exist. At least if we return, you have some kind of chance.”

  He tried to ignore the big dark eyes that stared up at him, full of worry and anger and something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  He ran his fingers through his damp hair that curled around his neck. Shit, it was hot in here. Logan turned toward the closet. “We gotta roll.”

  Yet her hand at his back stopped him cold. “Wait.”

  His skin sizzled where she touched him. Right through his damn shirt. Logan kept his mouth shut as she moved in front of him. He wanted to tell her to back off—to take her hand off him—but he remained silent. Logan Winters wasn’t about to lose his cool because a little slip of a human had managed to get under his skin.

  Finally she let go and stared up at him, chest heaving and shoulders squared. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides and the knuckles strained white.

  “I won’t do this until I know . . .” Her voice trailed off and he arched a brow, a muscle working its way across his cheek as the mad barking grew closer. Was he going to have to toss her ass inside?

  “Know what?”

  She shook her head. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.” Something in her eyes changed—it wasn’t just the slight softening of color from dark chocolate into caramel. It was the emotion behind them, and suddenly he was nervous.

  Him. Logan Winters. Hellhound from the fucking land of the damned.

  “I’ve never been kissed before.”

  Shit, no. We’re not going there. And yet his body hardened instantly as if her words plucked him like a cellist pulling her bow.

  “I’ve never made love to anyone.” Shadows crept into her face. “He . . . Mergerone raped me.” Tears filled the corners of her eyes and she trembled, a sob caught in her throat. “Many times.” She whispered. “That’s my experience. That’s all I’ve known.”

  His eyes narrowed and beneath his chest the beast shifted. This Mergerone had touched her. Blind rage colored everything until only a palette of red remained. He would pulverize the bastard. Torture and maim and then kill. Kira was his.

  Logan growled. She was his.

  A roaring echoed in his ears and for a moment reality slid away, leaving only the woman standing before him. Her soul glimmered, surrounding her in a beautiful rainbow of gold. It called to him.

  With a savage snarl, Logan shook the image from his head. This was crazy. What the hell was he thinking?

  Outside he heard the thunderous boom of feet pounding into the grass and the screeching of birds—and the incessant barking grew louder. It was in the room with them, surrounding them both, and yet it couldn’t pierce the wall of emotion Kira had just put out there.

  Her gaze was focused on his mouth. He felt her touch as surely as if she was imprinted on his flesh. “If I don’t make it, I just want one—”

  Logan’s groin tightened painfully and he clenched his teeth in order to eat the groan that sat in the back of his throat. Kira needed to shut the hell up and follow him through the portal.

  “—kiss,” she whispered, placing her hands upon his chest and pulling herself up onto her toes.

  The heat of her was everywhere. Her scent was inside his body. He glanced out the large window behind the sitting area, alarmed to see most of the backyard oasis had disappeared as a blanket of gray preceded the onslaught of the trojans. Color was bleeding out of her purgatory as fast as blood seeping from a wound.

  They had maybe a minute, most likely less.

  Her hand hardened against his jaw, he felt her nails puncture his skin and she pulled him down toward her. He could have resisted, pulled away from her touch, and yet he didn’t. Was he fucking crazy?

  I want her.

  And then her lips were on his, hesitant at first, like a whisper of silk gliding across his mouth. He heard his heart beating fast and furious, felt the tightening of every muscle in his body, and knew he needed to grab her and run.

  But desire was a traitorous bitch with no care as to whom she put under her spell. Just one touch, he thought, as his large hand sank into the thick hair at her nape. With a groan he pulled her flush against his body and his tongue slid inside her warmth.

  Chapter Twelve

  THIS WAS MADNESS.

  Dimly she was aware of the noise from outside—the dog, the trojans, the thing who wanted her dead—and yet it meant nothing. In this moment—in this room, in this place that existed on another plane entirely—the only thing that mattered was the man who held her.

  He was something she’d never had before.

  Logan kissed her long and hard, his lips sliding across hers with a boldness that electrified her. His tongue plunged deep and the feel of him inside her mouth drove her crazy. She took from him with aggressive abandon, her tongue stroking, sucking, exploring with equal fervor.

  His taste was primal, his scent wholly male, and Kira’s head spun. Never in all of her imaginings had she thought it would feel like this. She clung to him like a weakling, as if she would lose herself if she let go.

  Her body was hot and cold, heated and wet. The ache that erupted between her legs was intense—a pounding dance of desire—and she clenched her thighs together, trying to ease the pressure. But it was no use. Her hands dug into him, pulling at his shoulders, wanting to imprint her body along the hard length of him. Her tongue danced along his, tasting and teasing, as they locked together in a passionate embrace that left them both breathless.

  Was it the danger? The absolute knowledge that she was about to jump headfirst into an unknown that she might never recover from, that made this so thrilling?

  Logan broke away first and she looked up at him, across the harsh light that flickered along his jaw and left half of his face in shadow. His chest heaved and he thrust her away from him, swearing in that freaky language that she didn’t understand.

  Her hand crept up to her lips, swollen from the passion and fury of his kiss. Every single cell in her body tingled with an awareness that she’d never felt before. It was everything she’d wanted and so much more.

  It was the perfect first kiss.

  A crash sounded from below, followed by a roar that echoed through the house. The hair on the back of Kira’s neck stood on end and her heart nearly jumped into her throat.

  “We’re out of time.” His eyes morphed into deep crimson and she shivered at the furiou
s look that graced their depths. “Move back. I need to shift. It’s the only way I can take you through the portal.” His voice lowered, the timbre gruff and dangerous. “When I’m ready, grab hold of me and don’t let go.”

  She could only nod.

  “It’s gonna be tight and there are no guarantees. I hope a kiss was worth it.”

  Her fingers crept up to touch her lips once more.

  Mist crawled along Logan’s legs as his clothes disappeared and his body elongated and shifted. Time slowed into long seconds of bones popping, rumbling growls, and eyes that burned red. It was fascinating and horrifying to watch, but Kira was riveted.

  Another crash sounded, this time much closer. She swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the lump that sat in her stomach like a stone, as she turned toward the door to her bedroom. It was on its hinges, splinters of wood strewn everywhere, and the large, gaping hole was filled with trojans.

  A blinding light emanated from the space between them, flickering along the ceiling in a kaleidoscope of golden rainbows that slowly engulfed the entire room. She blinked and nearly fell over as a large furry head shoved her back toward the closet.

  A snarl escaped the hellhound and for one second Kira’s gaze was caught and held by Logan’s fiery red eyes. He bared his teeth and the rumbling that sounded from his chest was terrifying to hear.

  Move back!

  Startled, she froze instead, shaking her head at the weird sensation of hearing Logan’s voice inside her brain.

  But she had no time to process what she was seeing or hearing, for the light spoke. No form fell from inside the shower of gold—there was no person to see. Just a voice. A disembodied voice that held not an ounce of emotion.

  “A dog from the underworld thinks to challenge me?”

  Logan’s powerful hindquarters shoved her back, deeper into the closet, as he turned to face their attackers. Logan’s sides heaved and his long, powerful legs were spread as if ready to pounce.

  The trojans shouldered each other restlessly, jockeying for a better position. Their mouths agape, they emitted a sharp hissing sound that hurt Kira’s ears. She moved back, her chest tight with fear and the knowledge that this might be her end. Her eyes moved to Logan and a sob caught at the back of her throat. Was it to be his as well?