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“And?” Her brow was arched as she took a step closer.
“I’m no pet.”
“So what are you, then? A big-ass fur ball with fangs?” She was pissed now.
Logan’s eyes glowed red as he leaned down until only a whisper separated his mouth from hers. “I’m like nothing you’ve ever met before, lady.”
“You got that right.” She retorted. She pushed him away and took a step back. “My entire world has been the Institute and crazy people. Real crazy people.” Her chest was heaving with anger. “Nurses with syringes, orderlies, and doctors.” She was nearly spitting at him now. “Mergerone with his lectures, and greasy smile, and hands and . . .”
“And what?” His voice was sharp. He sensed her pain.
Kira smoothed her hair and exhaled. “Nothing.” She whirled around and jumped on the steel ladder that led topside. “What do you care? It’s all your fault anyway. You invaded my life when I was ten and I’ve been in hell ever since.”
Logan watched her scramble for the surface, his jaw clenched tight, his brows furled. She thought she knew what hell was? Kira Dove had no fucking clue.
Logan grabbed the bottom rung and quickly followed her up. If he was lucky, he might be able to save her from finding out.
Chapter Nine
KIRA KNEW THAT Logan was right behind her, but even so, she tensed when his long arms reached around and pushed the sewer grate open. She scrambled out and immediately rolled to the side as two large wooden stilts crashed down around her.
Noise flooded her ears. Laughter, songs, conversations. It was a mad melee of music and people.
Strong arms lifted her and Kira blinked rapidly, rubbing her eyes as the darkness gave way to a bright sun and a kaleidoscope of color. From atop stilts, a pale man in red, white, and blue—sporting an Uncle Sam beard and hat—grinned down at her.
She had no time at all to wonder, to look and to take in—Logan had her hand gripped firmly inside his and pulled her through a crowd that danced and sang.
“Stay close and keep your head low.” Logan said tersely, his breath warm against her ear. “Those that don’t belong are watching.”
They were in the middle of a parade of sorts, a mad crush of people running through the streets waving banners that made no sense—symbols with markings beneath them—she didn’t understand any of the words.
The sidewalks were filled with folk as well, watching and cheering as the group in the street passed. They were as varied in dress as those who surrounded Kira—similar to what she’d seen in the market. Men, women, and children were draped in silks and satins, cotton, denim, and leather. Kira spotted a nun and Sumo wrestler. All were laughing, enjoying whatever it was Kira and Logan were now part of.
But somehow it didn’t ring true, as if the music notes on first listen, though perfect, were off key.
Kira caught the eye of a tall, thin man who nodded as she passed. His complexion was as pale as his dirty gray shirt and pocked with many scars that gave him a craggy appearance. He wore a dark pinstripe suit and shiny patent leather shoes, and sported a dingy fedora that at one time must have been black, but now was faded to a dull gray.
Oh God, how she hated gray.
He touched the brim of his hat and smiled, his dark eyes glowing a vibrant green for just a second. His teeth were yellowed, his tongue black, and she was fairly certain maggots twisted and turned along the corners of his mouth.
Kira couldn’t tear her eyes away, even though the sight of him made her stomach roil.
Logan tugged on her hand, murmuring, “This way,” and she was forced to follow as they wove among the crowd. Kira chanced a look back and swallowed thickly as maggot man’s gaze continued to follow them. His smile widened and the queasiness inside her belly tripled.
Her hand gripped Logan’s tightly and he paused, his eyes as dark as obsidian. “Are you all right?”
Was that concern in his voice?
Her cheeks flushed, her heart sped up. He was so big that she had to crank
her neck back in order to meet his gaze. She shook her head—didn’t trust her voice to speak so she remained silent.
“You need to suck it up and grow a set. Contrary to what you may believe, this isn’t all about you. My ass is on the line, too, and I don’t mean to get it shot to hell here in this place.”
Concern? Hell, no. The only thing he cared about was himself.
“Let’s go.”
