“Listen, Askelon,” Bill’s words sunk in and Logan faltered. A few seconds of silence passed and then he said softly, dangerously, “What did you say?”
Bill ran pudgy fingers across his shiny bald head. He sat down once more and motioned for Logan to do the same.
Logan exhaled harshly, aware that they were garnering just a little bit more attention than he liked. He slid into the chair and glared at Bill. “Tell me.” He said tersely.
“I don’t know the exact details—”
“Your kind never does,” he interrupted. “You pull your puppet strings and move your chess pieces with one hand while doling out the barest of information with the other.” Logan bent forward, his eyes glowing red as his animal shifted beneath his skin. “I’m not playing anymore. You either tell me the whole truth or I walk.”
Bill held his gaze for a long time and then nodded toward the chair, his face grave. “Sit.” At Logan’s growl he lowered his voice. “Please. I’ve a story to tell.”
AN HOUR LATER Logan let himself into the room Bill had readied for Kira. The blinds were drawn and the light was dimmed. It was a simple room, with pale cream walls free of decoration, and sparse furnishings of sturdy oak. The red and black threadbare carpet had seen better days, and Logan chose to ignore the stains, some of which appeared to be blood.
The bed was a four-poster, a wrought iron contraption that was dated, most likely an antique from two hundred years ago. And that pretty much summed up his impression of this backwoods town.
Modern conveniences seemed to have passed the place by.
His gaze settled onto the bed and he froze, surprised that Kira was awake and sitting up. Her back was to him and he was struck at how frail she looked with her shoulders hunched over and pale arms held tight to her body. The seam of her spine was visible through the cotton shirt she wore.
He clenched his hands at the sight. How he wished he could finish Mergerone. Drag his sorry ass to hell and dole out the heaviest of sentences upon him. Logan smiled at the thought and made a mental note to talk to his brother, Lucian, personally.
Kira turned her head to the side and for a moment an uncomfortable silence fell between them. He thought of everything that Bill had told him and acknowledged the truth. She was his. From the moment he’d tasted her soul, she’d belonged to him. He’d marked her as surely as she’d claimed him.
There was no going back. There was only the consummation.
She cleared her throat and whispered hoarsely, “You’re still here.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you’d be gone by now.”
“You sick of me already, Dove?”
She was shivering, and he moved closer but stopped at her panicked plea. “No, I don’t . . . please don’t look at me.”
Logan swore under his breath as he took the remaining steps until he was in front of her, staring down at her bleached head, with inch long black roots. She still wore her faded green clothes from the Institute and he scowled when he caught sight of the blood splatter that decorated her shirt.
“You need to get out of those clothes.”
Congealed blood marred her skin, but thanks to Bill’s ministrations the bruising along her arms and neck was fading. But she was filthy. Who wouldn’t be? The girl had been beaten to death.
Her entire body trembled and she locked her feet together in an effort to control it, while sliding her hands beneath her thin legs.
“I need a lot of things, but mostly I just need you to leave.”
“Less than twenty-four hours ago you were singing a different tune.”
“Twenty-four hours ago doesn’t matter anymore.” She turned her hand over and he caught sight of the scars on her skin. “Nothing matters. Nothing’s changed.”
“Everything has changed.” He bent down in front of her. She had no clue. “And I already told you. I’m not going anywhere.”
She exhaled slowly, but kept her head lowered. “Why?”
Because you’ll be hunted and without me you will die. Because apparently your future is tied to mine. Because the only way to make sure you survive is for me to. . .
“Bill asked me to.” He answered instead.
“Bill?”