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She totally ignored him, which pissed him off. Usually when Logan’s animal rumbled beneath his flesh, people took notice.
“You rescued me from that . . . that thing all those years ago. I remember all of it. I know you too.”
That surprised him.
“You brought
me back from the dark place. You saved me from the beast.”
“The beast?” He snorted. If she only knew.
Her eyes were liquid pools and she nodded slowly. “Yes, the beast. At least that’s what I call it.” She paused. “I thought of you as my savior for the longest time, but that’s not what you are, is it?”
“No.”
She paused and then whispered. “So what are you?”
He watched her closely. “The beast.”
“You’re full of shit.” Damn but she had spunk.
“Am I?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it as fear entered her eyes. It amused Logan that she thought him a savior, and yet at the same time, she looked so damn lost that . . . that what? He thought he could help? He wanted to help? Did he think a hug and a kiss on the cheek was going to make everything all right?
First off, he didn’t do hugs, and secondly . . . did he really want to go there?
Angrily Logan inched forward. He had no time for bullshit. The shadows that crept along the edge of the park were now tenfold. The time for games was over.
“Kira,” he began, surprised at how easily her name rolled off his lips. She took another step and backed away from him.
“Stay away from me.”
“I can’t do that. I was sent to bring you back and I’m not leaving here without you.” He let that sink in. “So, listen up. You see those shadows over there?” He pointed toward the far edge of the park and waited until she turned to look. “Those are trojans. They’re slaves to otherworld creatures of great power, and if they’re here it means their master isn’t far behind. They’ll keep coming for you until . . .”
He was so close to her he could count the lashes that feathered her eyes. For a few seconds he stared down at her—inhaling her fear and confusion.
His voice trailed off and he grabbed her chin, slowly pulling her face up toward his. She licked her lips and for a second he was lost. Lost in her scent, in her warmth and the softness of her skin. He felt a pull, deep inside, a tug at the very heart of him—that place of darkness, and passion, and feral need.
Logan swallowed thickly. His body felt tight, as if his flesh was strung way too tight over bone and muscle. He itched and burned. His nostrils flared. He lusted . . . for her.
“Until what?”
His grip tightened. “Until they kill you . . . again,” he said softly. She wrenched her hand away, eyes wide with horror, and he knew that she was finally getting it.
“Oh God.”
“God has nothing to do with it.” Logan motioned for her to follow once more. There was no time to sugarcoat. “They’ve already killed you in the human realm but if they kill you here, in this place,” he turned and gazed across the field, “your soul will be lost forever. And that is a punishment I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”
Chapter Six
IMAGES PUMMELED HER brain. Fists. Knife. Leering faces and spittle. They echoed and hurt and split her mind into a thousand fragments of memory. Kira sagged against the man—she still didn’t know his name—and moaned.
It was overwhelming. The thoughts. The pain. The fear.
Her stomach roiled and for a moment she thought she was going to be sick all over his heavy boots.
“Goddamn but I don’t have time for this.” His voice was sharp and she glanced up at him. His dark eyes burned red and his teeth were bared like an animal’s.
