Sharing a small six-by-six metal cage was not my idea of a great first date or first time alone with Logan.
Yes, the angel-born was hot and sweaty, and so very close. But the sweat wasn’t the after-sex sweat and glow, but more of flush from the toxic acidic air on his cheeks and a feverish glow from the death blade’s poison. Yeah. Not so great.
I would have much preferred to be home on the couch, watching a movie or a series while Logan poured me some wine.
Well, we couldn’t always get what we wanted. Even if he was just sitting across from me. Even if I could just reach out and grab him.
A part of me felt sick. Another part felt angry. I wasn’t sure which one was winning.
“This is your fault,” Logan said. It was the first time he’d spoken to me since we’d been thrown in the cage three hours ago. His voice was different—cold and terrible and hard. I’d never heard him speak that way before.
Ouch. “I know,” I answered. What was I supposed to say?
Logan rubbed his jaw. “You should have told her. Why didn’t you tell her? You like it here or something?”
I frowned at the tone of exasperation in his voice. “It’s not that simple.”
“Really?” His eyes flashed incredulously. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Where do I start.”
“This isn’t funny,” he growled, his face a shade darker. “You think this is a joke? My life is a joke to you?”
I sighed. “Of course not. Relax, will you? You’re giving me a headache.”
Logan’s expression was hard. “Fine. We’ll just call the minotaur demon and tell him you want to talk to her. Tell her you’ve changed your mind. Just tell her how you killed the bastard so we can go home.”
“Go home?” I took an irritated breath. “You do realize that was never her intention, right? She’s never going to let us go home. Unless we can escape, we’re never getting out of here.”
Logan’s face went tight. “I am.” He crossed his arms over his chest, a determined look playing on his face. “If you had told her, I wouldn’t even be here. I don’t get it. I don’t get why you’re doing this. Why can’t you just tell her?”
“Because.”
“Because what?” he shouted, making my blood boil, and I imagined slapping his pretty face. And then one more time, just because I felt like it.
I stifled my temper before I started a shouting match. The last thing I needed was for the minotaur to come back with his very large sword. “Because if I told her,” I said, “thousands would die. I’m saving lives by not telling her. Don’t you get it?”
Logan frowned and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t understand you,” he said, laughing in impatience.
“No, you don’t.”
Eyebrows high, Logan made a soft sound in his throat. His jaw clenched before he said, “Then explain it to me. It’s not like I’m going anywhere. Not for a little while.”
I met his gaze. Brown eyes blinking, an intent look came into Logan’s eyes, calculating and skeptical.
“Well?” he questioned finally. “I’m all ears.”
I watched him, wondering if I could trust him. Then, before I knew what I was doing, my mouth opened, and the words came pouring out.
I told him about how my father had tried to kill me because of what I was and how my grandfather had saved me from the flames. I spoke about how I discovered what I could do, about my special gift, and why I’d kept it a secret all this time. And finally, I recounted the events leading to my fight with Vargal and how I used my gift with Poe to kill him. Since he’d been unconscious at the time, I’d never been sure if he had seen me use my gift, seen all those versions of me.
My heart was pounding when I was finished, but his worried expression melted into one of his famous smiles. I wondered if I had made the right choice at telling him, or if I had damned myself instead. Only time would tell, I supposed.
“If the witches found out I can borrow magic without having to make bargains with demons,” I said, “they’d kill me for it. Like my father tried to do. They’d bleed me, wanting it for themselves, or simply just kill me and not allow me to have it.” I let out a sigh. “You can imagine what Vorkol will do with that kind of power. I can never let her have it.” Logan just sat there facing me. He squinted his eyes, his gaze distant. I had no idea what was transpiring behind those brown eyes. I barely knew the guy. Nervous, I felt the beginnings of regret at telling him. My adrenaline surged. Shit. What had I done?
“I’d been wondering about that,” said Logan, a curious glint in his eye. “So all those replicas of you... those were real? I just thought I’d hit my head a little too hard.”
My heart seemed to skip a beat. My throat contracted as I swallowed. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Logan. But you can’t tell her. You can’t tell anyone. Promise me.” I waited as my fear redoubled. “Promise me,” I said again, my voice high with a mix of regret and fear.
Logan looked up, his gaze lingering on me, and I held my breath. “I promise.”
I believed him, strangely enough. I let out a shaky breath, not enjoying the fact he’d seen me like this, though my relief was a warm wash through me.
“Your father’s a dick,” said Logan after a long silence.
“Among other things,” I agreed. My insides twisted. In my mind’s eye, I could see a malicious smile reflected on my father’s face, the evil gleam in his eyes, right before he tossed me into the fire. Some kids block out traumatic events to protect themselves. Me, well, the memory was absolutely crystalline, like it happened just yesterday. The man was a true monster.
Logan’s handsome features creased in worry. “It must have been hard growing up with that. I mean, having your own father blaming you for your mother’s death and then trying to kill you. That would seriously mess up a little kid.”
I shook my head. “Not really.” I shifted my weight, trying to find a spot that wasn’t so hard on my butt. “I had my grandfather and my great aunt watching over me. It was enough.”
“Do you know what happened to him?”
“Who?”
Logan’s gaze fixed on me. “Your father.”
I looked away. “He disappeared the night of the fire. I never heard from him again.” And that was a good thing.
“And if he shows up?”
“I’ll kill him.” I was shocked at how easily it came out and how true it was. If I survived his place, and my father showed up, I would kill him. In fact, I’d been waiting for that day, for that chance. No witch who burns little children alive should live.
“Is that why you wear gloves?” ventured Logan, his gaze going to my hands. “Because of the scars?”
I nodded, a little embarrassed now that he knew my secret. It was either that, or enduring the endless pestering from him.
Silence. Not really complete silence, if you counted the relentless moaning and screeches from the other hundreds of cages, nor the constant scratching sound coming from my scrawny neighbor. He’d been silent since I gave him some food. Now he spent his days rubbing the metal bars of his cage with a small stone.
“So, I hear you’re a big hot shot in the angel-born community,” I said, wanting to change the subject. Plus, his silence was starting to freak me out a little. “I’m not that familiar with your angel-born chain of command, but I’m pretty sure the Head of House Michael is a pretty big deal.”
A smile quirked the corners of Logan’s mouth, changing his face from handsome to spectacular. “It’s all right.”
My brows lifted. I knew he was being modest. “You like it?” I asked, not knowing whether he’d wanted the tittle or if it had been forced on him. I couldn’t help but be curious. Having more information was always a good thing.
“It’s an honor to be chosen,” he said, his tanned hands clasped on his lap. “I try to do right by my people. But it’s not always the case. It’s not always that easy. You can’t please everyone.”
“Drama, eh?”
“The nuclear kind,” he added. His eyes met mine, his smile stretching to show his white teeth. “It’s part of my life now. Of who I am, as an angel-born. I don’t get time off.”
“You can think of this as a vacation, then,” I said and gestured with my hands. “The views are spectacular, but the food sucks.”
Logan laughed. The man thought I was funny. Damn, that was seriously dangerous. That last male who thought I was funny ended up naked and in my bed.
“Parents?” I added quickly, my face flushing as my eyes rolled over his two-day-old stubble that gave his flawless features a more rugged look and automatically reached the top of my sexy-meter.
“Still married,” he said. “Still happy.”
I couldn’t picture my life with happy parents. It’s not that I was envious. My family life felt complete with my grandfather, aunt, and Poe, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
The thought of Poe had worry striking through me. The last I’d seen him he’d gone after a meal. I just prayed the higher demons hadn’t hurt him. He was probably sick with worry by now. And if he was worried, it meant that my grandfather and aunt were too. They were probably trying to figure out what had happened to me. It felt as though I’d been in the Netherworld for only a few days, but who knew with the Netherworld. I could have been locked up in this cage for years.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, his voice gentler than it had been.
I looked up to find him staring at my left hand. I pulled it up. Yup. My blood had managed to soak through my glove and had dripped down my fingers.
“Damnit.” Carefully, I pulled off my glove. Blood oozed from my cut, and the wound hadn’t even started to cauterize yet.
The cage rattled and swung as Logan shifted around and came to sit next to me. O-o-o-kay.
“Let me take a look,” he said, surprising me. But I was more surprised when his thigh brushed mine.
Gently, he held up my hand. “You’re going to need stitches,” he said, and let it go.
“No shit.”
With his hands, he ripped the bottom part of his t-shirt into a long strip and wrapped it around my hand with expert precision.
“I see you’ve done this before,” I said, marveling at how his big hands could be so gentle.
Logan gave me a tight smile. “I have.” He made a knot next to my wrist. “It should hold until we can get you some stitches when we get out of here.”
“When we get out of here,” I repeated, hearing the certainty in my own voice. We had to get out. There was no other way. Not if we wanted to live.
“So,” said Logan as he leaned next to me, our shoulders brushing. I could smell his musky scent over the sulfur in the air. It was nice. “Any bright ideas on how to get out of this place?”
I pulled the glove over my left hand. “The only way out I see is the same way we got in.”
“You mean through a Rift?”
“Exactly.”
“And you know where to find one?”
I looked around at the metal bars. “If I can get out of this cage I might.”
Logan made a sound in his throat. “Even if we find one, you think it’ll work?”
“If I’m right,” I said, a bit of excitement fluttering in my stomach. “We both were stabbed by death blades, which allowed us passage. Right? So, it makes sense to think we can use that same logic to go through them again to go home.”
Logan’s shoulders tensed. “Maybe. I just hope we can survive the trip. It wasn’t exactly a fun ride.”
There was that. Our health was diminishing rapidly, and a trip through a Rift was a risk. Logan was right. We might not even make it out alive.
“And where do you suppose we find one of these Rifts?” he asked.
A thought occurred to me. “Faris is going to help.” I perked up. “He said he would. He’s going to help us find a way home.” Knowing I had at least one friend in this hell hole gave me a new sense of hope.
“Maybe.” Logan shifted his body, and his shoulder brushed up against mine, sending tiny tingles over my skin. He was so close I could feel his hot breath on my face. He didn’t move away. Neither did I.
“But maybe Vorkol killed him,” he added.
I jerked and hit my head on the bars. “Why would you say that?” I asked, rubbing my head.
Logan raised his brows. “He helped you by giving you that dagger. I don’t think Vorkol’s going to let that slide. He screwed himself.”
“By helping me.” My throat tightened, and I leaned forward to get a better look at his face. “I’ve killed him too.”
“Not necessarily,” said Logan. “He’s very resourceful. If any demon can get out of this sticky situation, Faris can. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”
I peered at the angel-born, curious. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
Logan shrugged. “I don’t. I just don’t think he deserves to die. Not after he helped you.”
I leaned against the bars, realizing at that moment how much I liked talking with Logan. He was an angel-born and I was a witch. Yet it felt natural, right, and I didn’t want it to end.
I met his eyes again and was shocked to find him grinning at me, more than a hint of attraction in his dark gaze.
My heart did five summersaults, two jumping jacks, and a backflip for the finale. Damn, those were some fine eyes... and those lips...
My pulse quickened, and my breath came and went.
Logan exhaled. “You’re the craziest witch I’ve ever met.”
“How sweet of you to say.”
“And I also think you’re pretty amazing.”
My mouth fell open. “You just gave me a compliment. Do you realize you just gave me a compliment? You, an angel-born, complimenting a dark witch?”
Logan laughed, and the sound sent my heart thrashing in my chest. “I guess I did.”
“You did.” A smile crept along my face.
“We might die tonight,” said Logan, shifting his body and causing his thigh to rub against mine again. Those were some nice, tight, muscled thighs. I couldn’t help but picture him naked again. I was a seriously demented witch.
“We might,” I agreed, the truth of his words hitting me hard. His face was so very close to mine...
So, what does one do when staring death in the face?
Something stupid, of course.
I grabbed his face between my hands and crushed my lips against his.
Logan flinched in surprise, his eyes wide in a shocked expression, but then he grabbed the back of my head and pulled me closer, kissing me back—slow at first and then harder. A quick hint of his tongue sent a spike of desire to my core.
Damn, he was a good kisser. Even better than I’d remembered.
My breath left me in a moan as I eased against him, one arm wrapped around his neck and the other in his hair, feeling his muscles tighten. His grip on my shoulders was firm with desire and it was all I could do to keep from ripping off his clothes.
Pulse fast, I pulled away, sucking on his bottom lip one last time.
“What was that for?” asked Logan. His eyes flashed, and his lips were red from my abuse.
I shrugged. “You said we might die.” And I wanted to kiss you one last time, you fool. To see if I was still into you. Hell yeah.
A wicked grin spread over Logan’s face. Desire flashed in his eyes, which had my pulse rising again. “We might die,” he said again, eyebrows high, expectant.
I smiled. Naughty boy.
I couldn’t look away from his eyes as I grabbed his face again and crushed my lips onto his. Yup, I was a dirty little witch.
His lips pushed aggressively against mine, tasting of salt. Logan shifted his weight, pressing me into him as he pulled me onto his lap. His hands moved under my shirt, and the roughness of his calluses sent my skin riddling in goose bumps. Sensing my desire, his touch became aggressive, and hot ribbons of anticipation spiraled through my core.
We couldn’t do this. It was too much. I wasn’t thinking clearly. It was too damn good.
I pulled away again before things got out of hand and we were both naked, our bodies clunking in the cage. Yes, I wanted it to happen, just not here. I didn’t want to have sex with Logan in a damn cage in the Netherworld.
“We can’t do this now,” I panted, still sitting on his lap and facing him.
“I know,” he answered, his hands around my waist. “But it was nice—”
The sound of wrenching metal pierced the air, and our cage started shuddering. I whipped my gaze through the metal bars and my heart sank.
Andromalius stood on the platform, his thick hand on a lever.
Damn. I’d never even heard the minotaur enter the cave.
Then our cage shifted and fell.