Page 148 of Legacy of Temptation

He whirled, spinning his summoned sword like he was a blender and Draven was the margarita mix.

They’d grown up together, sparred together, hit on females together. Draven knew Logan better than Logan knew himself. And he proved it by avoiding all of Logan’s attacks. No matter how hard Logan struck, no matter how fast, Draven dodged. It was as if a barrier surrounded him, making Logan bounce off an undetectable shield without so much as scratching Draven’s skin.

Then Draven really put on the pressure. An invisible fist slammed into Logan’s head. Heat exploded inside his body, his skin started to blister, and his vision blurred. He shouted in agony, some of it physical but a lot of it mental, as his lifelong friend tortured him.

After killing the female Logan knew was supposed to have been his.

“You gonna call your mutt?” Draven taunted as he hit the mat to avoid Logan’s roundhouse kick. “You need help from your puppy?”

Logan wasn’t calling Cujo. He wasn’t calling his roommates, his family, or his all-powerful grandfather.

He was going to take Draven—or the monster he’d become—down all by himself.

But even as that thought filtered through his mind, he felt Cujo coming. The beast couldn’t materialize inside—he had to phase into the backyard and come through a door, and he’d take it down if he had to.

Stay back! Logan ordered. He wouldn’t let Draven kill Cujo too.

Cujo’s response was a frustrated snarl. The beast would listen, but Logan didn’t know for how long.

“Logan!”

Staggering, struggling to keep his balance, Logan spared a glance up at Crux, who leaned precariously over the balcony. He dropped the wooden tool Thanatos had made, the one Logan had left on the table upstairs because he hadn’t thought he’d need it.

Logan caught it in one peeling, bleeding hand. What had his father said? That it would deflect mental assaults and send them back to the attacker?

Suddenly, Draven screamed, his skin bubbling and popping. With the mental stream reversed, Logan healed as Draven burned. The stench of blood and seared flesh grew thick enough to taste.

Pocketing the weapon, Logan attacked. He brought to bear every lesson learned during his decades of training with the Horsemen and all the angels, both fallen and Heavenly.

He pressed his advantage, forcing Draven to defend himself with his horns and claws. Logan grunted in pain with every slam of a horn into his chest or shoulder and every tear of his flesh under Draven’s serrated talons. But still, Logan pressed harder, his rage fueling his wrath.

Draven must have attempted another mental attack because he screamed again, and the entire left side of his face blew off.

Without Thanatos’s weapon, it might have been Logan’s entire head.

Through the hellsmoked roar of Draven’s misery and rage, Logan heard distant shouts. Familiar shouts. Crux had called for help.

They’re going to kill Draven.

Logan’s childhood and teen years with his friend flashed in his head. Their college antics. Their laid-back chats about their hopes and dreams. They were going to fight side-by-side in the Apocalypse.

They were always going to have each others’ backs.

Their plans for the future weren’t going to happen now. But Logan could have his buddy’s back one last time.

The second Eva died, Draven had become a full demon without any hope of redemption. He had to die, but Logan wouldn’t allow Draven to be hacked apart by the Horsemen or his DART buddies.

Logan would be the one to put his friend down. It’s what Draven would have wanted.

Reaching deep, drawing energy at the cellular level, Logan slammed his fist into Draven’s throat and power-punched his soul gift into his friend.

Draven’s body went limp as his spirit ejected, a screaming, angry wisp. Logan hesitated for only a split-second before he drove a summoned sword deep between Draven’s ribs, piercing his heart.

The organ beat a frantic, spastic pulse that flowed down the metal blade and pounded into Logan’s palm, connecting them intimately through life and death.

A breeze ruffled his hair as Draven’s soul wafted past Logan’s head and slipped back into Draven’s dying body.

Logan rolled them so Draven was on the floor, Logan hovering above him.

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