Page 142 of Poet & Protector

“Be still.”

I turned to stone, barely daring to breathe.

The symbol pulsed and exploded, leaving a wraith in its wake.

I’d never been so close to one of the nether creatures. Its body was a swirling and undulating pillar of smoke, constantly changing shape and reforming, but never gaining limbs or facial features. The scent of boiling pitch and scorched hair it emanated was as terrifying as it was nauseating.

Keepers rarely punished Guardians with wraiths—our masters’ hellish minions that fed on pain—but there were whispers from wolves who’d witnessed wraiths being used to torture Searchers. Endless screams. Broken minds.

Wraiths were impervious to harm. You couldn’t fight them, couldn’t kill them. Only Keepers could summon and control them.

“Have you forgotten who I am?” Logan asked calmly. His fingers were still wrapped around my other arm, holding me upright.

I shook my head, unable to look at him or the shadow creature that hovered beside us. The wraith was not only a reminder of his power, but a clear warning not to fight him or shift again. My Guardian strength wouldn’t save me.

“Good.” Logan waved his hand and the wraith vanished.

Breath rushed into my lungs and my vision swam as he hauled me to my feet.

“Now, what are we going to do about this mess?” he asked. “I’m very unhappy with you.”

“I know.” I lifted my palms in surrender. The wraith was gone, but the danger in this room wasn’t.

“I know you are, Logan,” I continued. My mind was racing, searching for anything that would spare me from punishment. “But you said you didn’t want my fear.”

The rage shadowing his features faltered briefly, then returned. He didn’t reply.

“I’m afraid.” It was true. My heart was trying to climb out of my throat. His eyes promised pain. “You’re making me afraid of you.”

Nothing.

I swallowed, then spoke again. “I wasn’t afraid of you the last time I was here. I liked that.”

Logan grasped my other arm and forced me to walk backward. He didn’t acknowledge anything I’d said, only tightened his grip as he pushed me back and back and back.

When my legs bumped against the edge of his bed, I panicked. “Logan, please.”

“Yes.” He smiled slightly; his voice was gentle and terrible. “You’ll be saying that often tonight. I like the sound of it.”

One of his hands went to my sternum, applying pressure until I sank onto the mattress.

The hand on my chest moved to my chin, tipping my face to look up at him.

“Where should we begin?”

A wild thought crashed into my mind. “Wait.”

“No.” His blunt fingernails dug into my skin.

“Logan, listen to me,” I gasped, throwing out one last plea. “You know how much Sabine hates your father.”

He went still.

“You must.”

I watched his jaw tic as he stared down at me. My pulse thundered so loudly in my head I barely heard myself say the next words.

“Do you want me to hate you like that?”