Page 8 of Logan

He sat up and stood slowly. “You are to come with me.” His voice did not match the one in her head. This was the man her stalker had sent to collect her.

“No.”

The man with dark eyes grinned. “My name is Laren, and I was hoping you would say that. It is far less sporting when your kind doesn’t fight.”

Emily bolted from the doorway of her bedroom, heart pounding with adrenaline as she raced back toward the living room. But before she could reach her destination, an unseen force slammed into her back, sending her stumbling forward with a cry. Pain flared as she hit the hardwood floor, sliding across its surface before crashing into the couch with a jolt.

With a groan, Emily scrambled to her feet, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she prepared to run. But before she could flee, Laren appeared, his presence looming over her with an ominous intensity.

As he approached, his eyes glowed with a malevolent red light, sending a shiver of fear down Emily’s spine. With a flick of his wrist, a glowing rope materialized, wrapping around her torso with an unyielding grip that left her immobilized and gasping for breath.

Trapped and defenseless, Emily could only watch in helpless dismay as Laren closed in.

Laren raised his hand and moved it almost lovingly down her cheek. “I am not supposed to sample the merchandise, but you have not come into your power. I will just have a little taste and remove your memories. We will keep this between us.”

He extended his fangs and leaned toward her neck. The tips brushed against her skin, and she prepared herself for the pain before the glass windows of her apartment burst inward, showering her in crystal shards. She had closed her eyes to avoid the shower of sharp objects, and she felt the tiny nips of her skin as many scratched her cheek.

“Step away from her, Laren,” the man’s voice boomed. This voice was the one from the heist. The one that had tracked her to Ming’s restaurant.

Laren pushed her away, and she fell backward on the couch. The rope retracted and disappeared as if it had never existed. “Logan, what are you doing here?” he seemed a lot less sure of himself as another man moved to Logan’s side.

Logan’s eyes flickered with lavender. “You are a disgrace, Laren. You barely made it to your four hundredth birthday before you turned. Siro and I have come to assist you in reaching the next life.”

Laren glanced at the attractive, muscular man beside Logan. “It’s not surprising you have turned to another purple. But Siro is a sad replacement for your brother.”

“That is the past. We have a future now, and it begins with the druids. Had you not been so weak, you and your kind would have shared in it. Now, you must prey on the innocent for scraps of your former life.”

Laren hissed. “We will be gods. You have no idea what our leader has in store for us. The Rule clan will join us or die.”

The one called Siro moved closer to her. He didn’t look down, but simply moved until he was standing between Laren and her.

Laren realized too late what Siro’s intentions were, and he formed a flaming sword in midair. “You will not take her.”

Logan moved subtly, and as he extended his muscular arm, a long broadsword materialized in his hands. It wasn’t on fire, but his loose stance gave the impression he was a much better fighter than Laren.

Laren’s gaze darted toward the window with a fleeting, almost desperate glance, as if contemplating his escape. Emily couldn’t help but inwardly shudder at the thought, as her apartment was on the fifteenth floor and offered no safe exit through the shattered panes.

But before Laren could act on his impulsive notion, Logan moved with silent grace, his sword held in front of him. As Laren swung his flaming blade toward him, Logan’s instincts kicked in, sidestepping the attack with a fluid motion honed with skill. With a swift upward arc of his own blade, Logan struck Laren’s arm, and blood burst from the angry gash.

Emily’s jaw dropped in astonishment as the torn flesh began to knit back together until only a smear of dried blood remained on Laren’s forearm. It defied logic and left Emily grappling with the unsettling realization that the men were not human. “That’s impossible.”

Logan moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior, his swordflashing in the dim light as he deftly deflected Laren’s attempts to impale him with the flaming blade. They danced a deadly dance, parrying and countering with skill and precision, each maneuver executed with the fluidity of a master of the blade.

But despite Logan’s formidable prowess, Laren proved to be a relentless adversary, his attacks fueled by a dark determination that bordered on obsession. Their blades clashed with a shower of sparks, the sound of steel ringing through the air as they engaged in a fierce battle of wills.

With each exchange, Emily held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched the deadly contest unfold before her. It was both mesmerizing and terrifying with the ferocity of the combatants locked in mortal combat.

But just as Logan seemed to gain the upper hand, Laren unleashed a blast of magic that sent him stumbling backward, his footing unsteady as he fought to regain his balance.

As Laren rushed to take advantage of the situation, arcing his sword, Logan twisted mid stride and thrust his blade upward. It slid through Laren’s chest like warm butter, and blood spread across Laren’s chest. The flaming sword dematerialized, and Laren clutched the blade embedded in his chest.

“I release you, my brother. May you find happiness in your next life.”

Laren reached out to Logan. “No.” But despite his denial, his body crumpled, and he slid off the blade and fell to the floor.

Siro moved to the fallen man. “I will dispose of his body. You see to the druid.”

He picked up Laren’s body and ran toward the shattered window. He seemed to shimmer before both he and his dead cargo disappeared.

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