“M
y jacket?” Logan uttered softly.
Lilith’s eyes glittered and her lips thinned, but she motioned once more and his jacket appeared at his feet.
Logan wasn’t exactly sure what was happening. The man had let him suffer in the pit for hundreds of years, so why the doting father all of a sudden?
Don’t be an idiot.
This wasn’t about Logan and any suffering he might incur at the hands of Lilith. No, this was about power. This was about his father pissing all over his territory—marking it—and sadly Logan belonged to him.
At this point he wasn’t sure what was the better option: taking his chances with Lilith or leaving with his father. Either way he needed to find his way out of District Three.
Anxiety roiled inside him and his chest tightened. Had Kira managed to get away from the League members sent for them? Was she on her way to Hill Valley? Or on her way to The Pines and an uncertain future?
Logan’s father glanced around the room until his eyes settled on the tangled and bloody sheets that covered Lilith’s bed. His nostrils flared. He glanced at his son and then swung back to Lilith, a smile breaking his cold features. It was one that never reached his eyes.
“He refused you.”
Lilith walked toward Logan and ignored his father’s comment. She ran her hand across Logan’s chest, pushing there where his wounds still oozed blood. Within seconds his T-shirt was stained. She dug her finger into his flesh until Logan glanced down at her. Until his hatred shone through. His contempt. His utter lack of respect.
Something flickered in the depths of her eyes. She leaned forward, rested her lips against his ear, and whispered, “I will break you.”
Still naked, Lilith then straightened and stepped away from him. She paused, tossed a lock of golden hair behind her shoulder, and turned to his father.
“Your son was in the gray realm.”
Logan’s father didn’t say a word.
“I’m assuming it wasn’t sanctioned.” Lilith stared at her fingers. “At least not by you, because we all know that hellhounds don’t belong in the gray realm.” She waved away a pesky fly, eyes narrow, lips shiny where she’d licked them. “Or was it?”
Logan watched the power play with veiled dislike. The two of them were similar enough that it would have proved entertaining if he didn’t need to get the hell out of Hell. Pronto.
“Logan answers to me. He does not do unsanctioned runs,” Santos said haughtily.
Lilith squared her shoulders. “I beg to differ. Ask him yourself.”
Overlord Santos walked toward Logan, his eyes blood red, his fists clenched hard at his sides. “Is this true?”
Logan eyed his father coldly. He hated lies. Hated what they did to a person. Lies made you weak, but in this instance …
“No,” he said softly. “It’s not true.” He glanced to Lilith and sneered. “The bitch is using rumors as an excuse to get me into her bed. She’s bored and pissed off that I’m not sniffing between her legs like a dog.”
Lilith’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m loyal to you,” Logan said to his father. What was one more lie piled on top of another?
“Prove it,” Lilith whispered. Something about the tone of her voice put Logan on alert. Her heart beat rapidly, her eyes glittered strangely and—he was disgusted—she was fully aroused. He’d never met another demon—male or female—who got off on pain and torture the way she did. Not even Lucifer’s appetites compared.
“I’ve nothing to prove to you,” Logan said harshly as he bared his teeth and took a step toward her.
“Prove it to me,” Santos interjected.
Logan’s gaze swung back to his father. He didn’t like this one bit, but there was no choice. He was cornered. “Anything, my lord.”
Overlord Santos whipped out a cell phone and spoke so quietly neither Logan nor Lilith could hear his words. Within moments, Lilith’s doors flew open once more and Kraghten, one of his father’s hellhounds, appeared, a sobbing child in his arms.
Kraghten didn’t say a word, but set the child down on the floor between them and disappeared immediately.