The Dragon and the Rose

  “I’m really enjoying her moves.” A deep voice rumbles from over my shoulder. “And I can tell you are, too.” I glance over to find Gage glaring at me. “That was quite a stunt you pulled earlier. Mind telling me how you did it?”

  “After you.” I meet his heated stare with my own version of brotherly hatred. “Oh wait, you’re a Fem of the highest bastard order. Let me guess, your new daddy gifted you a few superpowers as an early birthday gift.”

  His dimples cinch back, no smile. “I’m not going there with you. I’m not landing my fist in your mouth the way I want—and I promise I will eventually—I’m just going to be the bigger man for now and dance with my wife.”

  He uses the word wife as the most lethal weapon in his arsenal, and it is.

  Brielle claps up a storm. “Listen up! I hear someone here has been dabbling in a few illegal activities. I don’t stand for any of that—no, no no!” She wags her finger playfully at Skyla. “In fact, I called the cops on your ass, Messenger!”

  A buffed-out dude in a mock police uniform slaps some cuffs on Skyla and proceeds to undress much to the delight of the squealing girls that surround him. Skyla carefully uncuffs herself and swings the metal bracelets around one finger, having a good time with the now mostly naked ‘roid addict who’s shaking his hips in front of her. I glance at Gage and give a smug smile.

  “How are you enjoying your wife’s moves now?” I tease.

  His brows straighten in two neat lines creating a ledge over the rest of his face. Before I can appropriately enjoy the moment, Bishop jumps into the picture.

  “All’s fair in love and stripping!” She belts out before quickly disrobing and shimmying up and down Gage’s stunned body. Nat hops on Nevermore and lands him in an unexpected lip lock prompting Ezrina to jump on her back. Liam starts making out with Brooke, inspiring Brody to haul off and deck him. Fights break out all over the facility. I even spot Coop burying one in Wesley’s face. Skyla lunges for Chloe and wraps her fingers around her neck. Gage doesn’t stop her. Instead he stalks right over to me and gives a brief smile—before planting his fist in my face just like he promised.

  Clearly a good time is had by all.

  5

  Into the Wilderness

  Skyla

  My head feels numb, unnaturally weighted as if a tractor sat on it. I dreamed of Marshall—his smooth, satisfying touch lighting me up from the inside like no man other than my husband ever should. I ran my tongue over his muscular arms, licking him like a kitten the entire livelong night. And, then, of course, he joined in on the fun by putting that prehensile tongue of his to good use. It was like being impaled by a snake all night long. My eyes remain sealed as I struggle to wake. I moan and stretch before inching my fingers over the mattress in search of those strong familiar limbs—the ones that belong to Gage.

  The door to my room gives a solid squeak, forcing my lids to crack. A blurry image approaches with a tray in hand. It’s not until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed do I see the smiling face of my gorgeous husband.

  “Happy birthday, Skyla.” Gage lands his lips right where they belong, over mine as he rouses me from my slumber with a heart-stopping kiss. Why couldn’t I dream of Gage and me going at it hot and heavy on some tropical beach instead of Marshall with his perfectly perverted agenda? I’ll have to scold the seductive Sector later for continuing on with his unapproved nighttime romps.

  Gage pulls back, and his smile deflates.

  “So Dudley’s still at it, huh?”

  I gasp and scoot back reflexively. I’m still not too keen on the fact Gage has the ability to read my mind. It’s bad enough I can never remember Logan has that capability, but at least we weren’t sleeping together at the time.

  “It would appear.” My shoulders sag, sorry to have to go there, especially on this day. I’ll have to try my best to put up a wall around my thoughts from here on out. “Happy early birthday to you, my love.” I wrap my arms around him tight. Gage feels solid, real, so much like the old Gage I want to cry. “What’s this?” I marvel at the stack of pancakes, at least a dozen high, drizzled with a yummy glaze of maple syrup and crowned with a luscious pat of butter.

  “For you.” He crawls under the covers wearing far too many clothes for breakfast to ever feel complete. “I made them for you.” He pecks my lips with a simple kiss. “You in the mood to share?”

  “With you? Always.” I whack a generous piece off and feed it to him. “So are we okay? I mean I think we are, but I wanted to be sure. Am I up on everything?” I nod into him because in truth I’m still waiting to hear all about the night he chugged down Celestra blood and pierced his flesh in a covenant with wickedness. So far all he’s told me is that he joined the Steel Barricade and that siding with Chloe bullshit. I squeeze my eyes tight still trying to wake up for the day.

  “We’re very good, and I really don’t want to talk about Wes or Demetri, or anyone else for that matter. This weekend, hell every weekend, every day is about us, Skyla.” He feeds me a bite, and I can’t help but smile at him.

  “I like the way you think. But no gifts, remember? We’re beyond broke.”

  Gage growls out a dark laugh. “You’re getting a gift.” He covers my earlobe with his hot mouth, sucking it down like he’s trying to swallow it, and my body gives a mean shiver.

  We exchange a few more delicious forkfuls before I snuggle into him. Looking up at Gage like this is magic. It’s like when I was a kid lying on the grass, looking up at the fluffy white LA clouds. Gage is far more comely than a ball of condensed water. He’s my everything. “Speaking of what you think, what are your thoughts on that wild party last night?” I touch my fingers to his slightly swollen cheek. He and Logan got into it pretty good. It took both Coop and Brody to pluck them off one another. Ellis was busy plucking me off Chloe. “Let the record show, I did not appreciate anybody’s strip tease. I was just about to dance my way over to you when Bishop dropped trou.” God, I hate her. “Who invited her anyway? Why isn’t she swimming in one of those Count-issued tanks? I’d think she’d look good submerged in blue keeping solution. I personally volunteer to build an entire aquarium for her dead corpse.”

  Gage barks out a laugh that warms me from head to toe. “Come here.” He sets the tray on my nightstand. “I thought the party was great. I’m sorry about adding to the drama. Logan and I are no worse for wear, I promise.”

  “That was quite a trick you pulled with that bottle.”

  “Did you like that?” His grin stretches from ear to ear, and I dip my tongue in his dimple.

  “Yes, I did.” I pull off his shirt. His pecs, his biceps, flex broad and wide as wings. Gage has the body of a boxer, a football star, which he was until Demetri cursed his back with his DNA.

  “Good. Because you’re more than my girl, Skyla, you’re my wife, and I’m not too interested in anyone else trying to put their lips on you—not Logan, not Dudley.” He makes a face. “How about we focus on us. Here’s to another year on planet earth—another year together.” Gage traces kisses from my lips to my chest in a straight erotically hot line. I wrap my leg over his back and dip my hand into his boxers.

  “I see you’re hungry for a different kind of breakfast,” I tease. Within three seconds both Gage and I strip down to our birthday suits. We’re all tongues and pancake syrup with him rushing to pull on a condom and me giving him the best birthday hug I can with my bare legs wrapped around his back. “God, I want you inside me.”

  A dark laugh rumbles from him.

  “Brace yourself, birthday princess, I’m about to make your every wish come true.” Gage carefully navigates his way into my body as I writhe my head deeper into the pillow. No matter how often we make love, I still feel the surprise burn as my insides struggle to accommodate him. He’s pressing his way into my throat, into my soul, with his every thrust.

  “Less wishing more fucking.” A laugh bubbles from me as I scratch my nails up and down his back. Gage and I might be having some hea
vy hitting communication gaps lately, but our chemistry is undeniable. And I secretly love the dirty talk.

  He snatches my wrists and tosses them to the top of the mattress.

  “In that case, get ready to be fucked liked never before.”

  A gasp comes from the door. “Oh, heavens! I’m so sorry!” My mother leans into the room a little further with her fingers pressed to her lips, her hair still in rollers.

  Gage and I scamper for sheets, pillows, or pancakes to cover up our privates.

  “Mom!” I feel like flinging my birthday breakfast at her head like a Frisbee. Any normal person would have shut the door and got the hell out by now.

  “Don’t mind me.” She bounces one of her hot pink rollers in her palm. “I just wanted to wish my little girl a happy birthday, but I see you got to her first,” she sings to Gage.

  Gross.

  Is this really happening? It’s probably just another Marshall-inspired nightmare and any second I expect him to pop out of the closet with his penis wagging. At this point, I think I’d prefer it.

  “I mean with breakfast”—she snorts—“not that.” She flicks her wrist as her face deepens a peculiar shade of purple. “I mean do that”—more word vomit—“after all you are husband and wife. This is your marriage bed. Although you might want to look into something a little roomier.” She begins to close the door with her on the inside. God. Almighty. I can see why I didn’t kill Emily or Chloe this month because I was clearly saving my monthly murder for today. “Oops!” She touches her hand to her lips and giggles while stepping into the hall. “Carry on!” she sings. “Don’t be ashamed. It’s perfectly natural and healthy! Keep it up, kids. I don’t want to see you downstairs for hours! The party is at six by the way! Oh, and Gage, you should really look into sweet talk a bit more. Language like that can be misconstrued as assault. Just saying!”

  Dear God, having your mother cheer you on from the carnal sidelines is anything but natural.

  A horrible moan emits from me as I bury myself under the covers. “Tell me that didn’t just happen.” A visual of Gage mounting me—of Gage’s bare ass hiked in the air with his threats to “assault” me—run through my mind.

  “I can’t believe she thinks I was threatening you.” Gage is stymied by this momentary departure from my mother’s good graces. “She must hate me.”

  “Oh, please.” I swat him with a pillow. “That woman would bed you herself if given the opportunity. She’s always had an unnatural obsession with you. It’s natural. It’s healthy.” I mimic as we curl into one another and laugh.

  “I can’t believe your mother just caught us going at it like that. I think I’m going to die of embarrassment.”

  “You can’t die of embarrassment.” I run my finger down his sheetrock chest. “You can’t die of anything, Gage. I won’t let you.” I bless his forehead with a kiss. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you and I leave this planet at a ripe old age.” My heart stings because I distinctly remember Logan using those words regarding the two of us.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I love you and death sucks. It just does, Gage. Every day on this spinning blue rock would suck without you on it.”

  He takes me in his arms, and I pull him over me once again.

  “You ready for take two?”

  Gage gives a fierce stare at my dresser, and it slides over the door with a violent jolt.

  “I’m ready for take two, three, four, six, twelve.” He peppers my face as he says it, and before I know it, Gage is up inside of me again. Exactly where he needs to be.

  It’s turning out to be a very happy, happy birthday after all.

  A part of me wishes my mother would have planned a surprise wedding reception slash birthday party instead of guilting me into scrubbing toilets and hiding mountains of baby products.

  “Maybe we should have had it at the Gas Lab?” I ask, but it’s too late for good ideas and reason now. The party is set to start in just a few minutes.

  “I think this is a much better idea.” Mom plops on the couch with both Misty and Ember in her arms. Her blouse falls open and Misty’s head starts in on a violent hunt-and-peck mission until she finds her dinner. Ironically, Mom is not braless. She’s wearing this orthopedic number with triangular cutouts to allow easy access to her udders, nipples, whatever. Ember nuzzles a little too close to the fire, and before I can warn my mother she’s already using her nipple as a teether.

  “Ew, gross! Put that thing away. Might I remind you, Ember is not your child.”

  “I’m her grandmother—her precious Mee Maw.” She looks like she’s petting her hair, but what she’s really doing is encouraging her to keep on keeping on. I’m onto her maniacal mammary ways. “You sound like Mia and Melissa.”

  “Speaking of which, how did homecoming go? I haven’t heard a peep out of them all day.”

  “Oh, they’re not home. The girls had a sleepover at their friend’s house afterwards. You should have seen them, Skyla. They looked like sweet little princesses. Our little girls are finally growing up! Look here”—she plucks her phone from her pocket—“I took a picture. Aren’t they sweet?”

  Mom hands me the phone, and I’m momentarily distracted from the sins she’s committing with Emily’s child.

  I glance at the phone and suck in a giant breath at the horror staring back at me. Both girls have on short black dresses that are so strappy and see-through they hardly qualify as bandages let alone clothing one might wear to a formal affair. Melissa’s hair is ratted out in twelve different directions, and she’s got a leg hiked up over her date, exposing her fishnet stockings. Gabe Armistead. I shake my head disapprovingly. Look at him just standing there with a smug look on his face while my stepsister does her best to dry-hump him. Then there’s Mia with her war paint on. Her lips are bright red and glossy. Her cheekbones are so severely shadowed, she looks hideous. Standing by her side is a guy who vaguely resembles someone I think I know.

  “God, it’s like they’re Halloween caricatures of themselves! Why would you ever let them leave the house like this? And you trust them to spend the night at some friend’s house? I’d bet good money Melissa is already giving it away to this kid.”

  “Is that so?” Melissa’s voice sails in from the family room.

  I look up stunned to find both my sisters gawking at me in horror.

  “She’s breastfeeding Ember.” I point hard at Mom, hoping to distract them from my bevy of insults.

  “Halloween caricatures, Skyla? Really?” Mia shakes her head in disappointment. That overgrown dog of hers staggers in, and she gives him a loving pat on the head.

  “Say—did some scruffy looking biker dude ever come around searching for his dog?” Attempt at reverting their attention number two.

  “You mean looking for Bullet, here?” She crouches down and engages in some serious baby talk with the beastly pooch, and it’s only then I realize both of my sisters are still wearing their dresses from last night, a pair of heels dangles from each of their thumbs.

  “Wait a minute? So this is Rev’s dog? What’s he still doing here—I’m confused.”

  “It sort of is, and it sort of isn’t.” She springs up, Mia is eye to eye with me, and in this dim evening light her beauty is that much more cutthroat. I bet Mia is knocking dead all those boys at West. I sniff at boyfriend-stealing Melissa who I’m sure, in just a few shorts months, will have no one but that overstuffed bear sitting in the corner of my room to snuggle with.

  “What do you mean it either is or isn’t?”

  “We’re co-parenting. I’ve even got him to respond to his new name. Isn’t that right D-O-G?”

  “Co-parenting? And he let you rename him?” If I remember correctly that big bad biker was all about the tears that day in the woods. I smell a rat. “So why didn’t he want his dog back? Did it have something to do with the apartment he lives in?”

  “Oh, no. He’s totally allowed to have pets. He says M
r. Harrison is a big asshole who couldn’t care less if he was running an opium den from his living room.”

  I bet he speaks from experience.

  “Language,” Mother calls. “Besides, Skyla, I’m perfectly fine with this arrangement. Having D-O-G around is like having a built in babysitter. He makes sure Misty and Ember don’t crawl too far off and always howls like mad when they start to cry. He’s been very helpful.”

  “Mom! He’s going to inhale them both as a snack one day. And he’s howling because he’s annoyed.”

  “Oh hush, Skyla. You always have to point out the negative side of things. Last night Rev and Mia looked so cute together, and when they posed with their little Bull, Bull, they looked like a family.”

  “Gah! You went to homecoming with Rev? What are you thinking? He’s got at least five to ten years on you. Is that even allowed at West?” Something tells me Rev will become quite familiar with the phrase five to ten in the very near future.

  “Chill out,” Mia scolds. “It’s not like he’s some stranger. Dr. Booth is practically family.”

  “What’s Dr. Booth have to do with this?”

  “Rev is his son.”

  Drake comes in and offers the girls a thumbs up. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “You do realize it’s not cool to ogle your sisters.” I take a breath and freeze because I can’t seem to wrap my head around the idea that Revelyn is Dr. Booth’s offspring.

  An entire stream of guests begin to arrive, and I rush to my room to dress and freshen my face. By the time I hit the bottom of the stairs again, I spot Gage, Demetri, and Wes huddled by the door.

  “Who invited you two?” Before I can make my way over, Mom clasps me by the arm.

  “Skyla.” She speeds us into their presence. “Please excuse my daughter.” She curtseys to Demetri as if she were in the presence of royalty—curtseys, for God’s sake! “I invited them, Skyla. I’m fascinated by the fact there is actually someone else out there as equally handsome as our Gage.” I’m pretty sure she means Wes, but she hasn’t taken her eyes off the demon darkening our doorway.