Wrong Side of Hell (League of Guardians 0.50)

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.