“You smell like you’ve been in the Transfer.” I force myself to giggle. If Gage is willing to mask the truth so am I. “What did you stuff the turkey with? Blue keeping solution?”
His face bleaches to match the wall. Ha! I bet he was in the Transfer plotting his next move with his weasel of a brother. Wesley the weasel—now that’s fitting. And if that’s true then Chloe must have been with him, too. A slight roll of nausea pinches my stomach. Speaking of the witch, I bounce over Gage and crank my window wide open. Stupid casement window. I swear, Demetri helped furnish it just so I would have a hard time doing exactly this. Ironically, it was Demetri who helped change out my window when it broke years ago. Of course, that had more to do with impressing my mother than it did filling a hole in my wall. There was another hole he wanted to fill, and it happened to belong to the woman he’s obsessed with. If Misty is any indication, he’s long since already filled it.
“Nev?” I shout into the early morning air.
“You mean, Holden,” Gage says amused from the bed.
“Geez, what am I thinking?” I try again with the right name, and a dark shadow spears toward the ledge. “For the record, Nev made a much better bird than Holden ever can.”
The oversized raven outside my window lets out an aggravating caw.
“Get in here.” I help get his feathers through the tight fitted space. “It’s Thanksgiving,” I say shooing him to my desk. “I promise you a grand meal so long as you don’t leave my bedroom today.” I want to ensure a Bishop-free holiday for once.
Holden caws once again, and I don’t need to touch him to know what he’s squawking about. He’s been after me to have a family reunion with Emerson.
“Of course, I’ll get your sister.” She’s an owl in Mia’s room. Long story, but nevertheless, since Mia is insane when it comes to animals, I happily gifted her the Kragger creature. I’m sure Mia is going to run a zoo or a shelter when she’s older. Who knows? She might even turn into one of those animal hoarders you hear about on the news with ninety-nine cats having run of the house. Hopefully she’ll achieve all this feline grandeur without Rev. I hate that she has a natural inclination toward assholes. Poor thing doesn’t remember our father, and now Tad has ruined all future men for her. Some role model he’s turned out to be. Not that my mother’s example was anything to follow. “I’ll bring you both a feast—just the traditional stuff. No worms or anything weird. Besides, you can get that stuff on your own. You’ll have quite the family reunion.” I hop over to Gage and sit on the bed opposite him. “See? That’s me being generous.” My entire person is shaking because I want nothing more than to fly into a Laken-inspired rage. There I go again admiring her psychotic moxie again. She’ll be here later today. I’m sure I have much to learn from the master. “Now I’m going to be generous with you.”
His offers a devilish grin as if it were the cutest thing he’s ever heard. And knowing him he probably thinks it’s sexual. And knowing us, it usually would be.
“I give.” He relaxes onto the headboard. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
“Oh—just mulling over the fact you’re a beast in bed.” True story. “But that’s beside the point. I’m pissed off to hell and back because someone—and I’m looking at him—has been acting out of character.” There. That’s as close as I’ll get. I’ll give him once inch, and if he’s smart he won’t take any more.
“I have been acting out of character.” He pulls me in and takes a gentle bite out of my side, tickling the hell out of me in the process. I let out a yelp so loud that Holden matches my cry with one ten times louder before ducking under the desk.
My door flies open, and I scramble to cover myself. I’m not totally nude, but, still, a see-through nightie isn’t the thing I want to show off to anyone other than Gage.
Tad bursts into the room with a look of horror.
“What the hell was that?”
“What are you doing?” My mother’s voice comes from behind before she evicts him and waves off his lunacy. “Carry on,” she says as she starts to shut the door. “They like rough sex.” I hear her say before the room is entombed in silence.
Gage lets out an aggravated growl as he slides the dresser into position with a glare in his eyes. He rolls me over and pins my hands high on the bed.
“You ready for rough sex?”
“Holden is the room,” I whisper.
The closet door flies open, and Holden is pushed in by a violent wind, cawing and screaming like his wings are about to get plucked off. Gage shuts the door and slips a chair over it, all with the mental ease of the wicked wizard he’s become.
“Show off.”
“That wasn’t me showing off.” He runs his tongue down my neck. He might be keeping God knows what from me, but I’m a sucker for an early morning romp. Besides, this is Gage. He’s vexingly sexy, melt your knees, wet your panties, stomach-droppingly seductive. There isn’t a woman in the universe who would blame me for not willingly giving up a good night’s sleep for him. Gage is worth far more serious sacrifices, and I’m afraid I’m going to cave to them all—beginning with giving him a license to roam in the night.
I flatten my hands over his chest. “I’m still very, very pissed.”
“Then obviously I haven’t impressed you. How about you play the role of a very irate princess, and I play the role of a love sick sex slave trying to win back your affection?”
“Sounds plausible.”
Gage licks his way down my body in laboriously long lashes. “I’m about to put in a giant effort, Skyla. You’re one of the only women on the planet I live to impress.”
I erect a barrier around my thoughts, thick and wide.
Funny how he didn’t say people. Funny how he conveniently left men out of the equation—namely his wicked brother and father. It leaves me to wonder how far he might go to impress them. That chalice full of Celestra blood stamps through my mind.
His licking tirade continues all the way down my hips then ever so lower. I guess I can shelf my anger for another hour or so. No use in wasting a good tongue lashing at the hands of my husband. My legs slither up his back as my head presses hard into my pillow.
Gage knows how to take my mind off everything.
Mom worked the Thanksgiving meal like an Iron Chef on steroids. She wouldn’t hear of letting anyone else bring a single dish. Instead, she worked her fingers to the wishbone and sweated it out all by her lonesome. Well, not really lonesome, her minions were all present and accounted for, that includes me and my sisters, plus Bree and Em. It was kind of nice working as a team—even if we were simply relegated to menial tasks.
Mom had Drake and Ethan pull the sofas out of the family room and brought in a couple of patio tables that we covered with plastic tablecloths. If Laken and her guests are expecting a five star dining experience, they won’t be getting it. Mom specializes in dollar store treasures and questionably cooked side dishes. The turkey is so done, it’s falling off the bone.
“Driest bird I’ve ever had.” Tad shakes his head in annoyance as dinner gets underway.
Darla salutes him with her wine. “What the hell’d you stuff this poor thing with, Lizbeth? Concrete?”
God. Darla brought her own wine, enough for each of us to have two bottles. It seemed like an excess at the time, but, judging by the way she’s singlehandedly burning through the liters, she may run out just yet. She also brought an excess of Bishops. Well, technically she didn’t, Brooke did. It appears that Brody and Brooke’s on again off again relationship is on again. They’re giving Bree and Drake a run for their feel-you-up-at-the-dinner-table money. Why can’t I have one special occasion without a Bishop present? Why!
“It’s a wonderful bird.” Marshall is quick to lift my mother’s fatigued-as-hell spirits.
Thank God for Marshall. Twice I’ve held back from throttling Gage like I’ve wanted. It’s as if the closer I get to Logan’s big reveal, the more livid I grow with my husband
.
We’re seated at the middle table with Laken, Coop, Em, Ethan, Drake, and Brielle, and the aforementioned Brooke and He Bishop. In general Brody seems like a nice guy, but evil never wants to scare you off. It wants you to invite it into your home, so it can dust your living room with poison.
Mia and Melissa are joined by Lacey and Marky, Laken and Coop’s sisters at the kiddie table next to us, which also houses Beau Geste who’s quite the grown up toddler these days. He still calls a truck a fuck, but now he follows it up with a smile and an all too cute ‘cuse me.
Dr. Booth and Laken’s mother are here along with Coop’s parents. Marshall sits on the bridge that precariously connects us to the main dining room table. His plate is set at an angle no thanks to Drake’s lousy idea of simply putting a piece of plywood to connect the two, never mind that one table is higher than the other. Marshall sits next to me which is a small solace in this hurricane Gage and his midnight wanderings have landed us in.
Gage must sense something is wrong—I suppose my inadvertent cold shoulder has done the trick—because when I get up for a third helping, he anxiously follows me over.
“You’re really taking the roleplaying from this morning to a new level.” He gives a nervous laugh. I can tell he realizes this is the real deal, and he’s hoping I’ll play along with his little “roleplaying” scenario.
“That’s right, Gage. I am. Now would you mind confessing to me why you’ve been acting suspicious and don’t say it’s about my birthday. You and I both know that’s bullshit.”
“Suspicious? You know I live to help you.” He gives a cocky grin as if this were just a part of the game. “Always ready with the heroics.” His tongue touches his top lip, and my thighs quiver.
“I don’t need you to rescue me.” I try to ignore the fact my panties are suddenly drenched.
Emily pops up from behind, and I nearly toss my green bean casserole in her face, on accident on purpose. I’m still ticked about her willingness to lie down for the master.
“Take it easy on him, Messenger,” she growls, but it’s hard to tell if she’s genuinely angry. Em only operates under one emotion.
She piles a ton of my mother’s dry-as-a-haystack turkey onto her plate. “Protein.” She smiles up at Gage like it means something.
What could protein be code for? What the hell does protein do for the body? An energy boost? A sexual energy boost?
“What was up with that crack in her face?” I ask as she saunters back to her seat. “Em never smiles.”
His eyes narrow in on me. “Are you starting your period?”
“Oh!” I let out a horrible groan that tells everyone in the room exactly how pissed I am. “Is that how you’re going to dismiss this? As some erratic hormonal imbalance? I bet you’d just love it if I excused one of your illusive moods as a hormonal imbalance.”
“We can hear you!” my mother sings.
I head back to the table and angrily set my plate next to Marshall. He’s right. I should have shacked up with him years ago. I bet the war would never have happened, and life would have been nothing but butterflies and rainbows.
“Sorry.” I flex a quick smile to the general population. Poor Laken’s mother, she’s beautiful by the way, like model beautiful with her long, brown sugar curls and cute I’m-also-smart-as-a-librarian, teeny cat’s eye glasses. She and Dr. Booth have tried all night to make pleasant conversation with Mom and Tad. Coop’s parents seem much more relaxed around our lunacy. I think maybe because Dr. Booth’s divorce has erupted a minute scandal on the island, Laken’s mother feels a moral obligation for the residents to like her. I want to tell her who the hell cares what these people think. Half the island is insane.
“I’d much rather listen to them argue than what goes on in that bedroom,” Tad squawks. “It’s like they’re performing an exorcism for hours on end. I’m about to invest in holy water and hose them down.”
“Tad!” Mom admonishes, but he dismisses her with a wave. Isis giggles and jiggles by his side, and Demetri seems equally amused. “We have mixed company.”
“What—you mean the head doctor?” Tad scoots back to get a better look at poor Dr. Booth. “I’ve paid him over five grand to fix that girl, and she’s just as hot tempered as the first time we locked her up.” He grips the table and reels like a drunkard. “And I won’t lie to any of you—I’ve been sleeping with one eye open ever since.”
“Like you’re a ball of sanity,” I mutter.
“What did you say?” He barks, and suddenly all eyes are on me.
Laken shakes her head at me from across the table.
Marshall raises his fork a moment. It appears your new friend ironically does specialize in sanity. Don’t engage the buffoon, Skyla. I’m pleasantly satiated, and it does try my digestive system to be in the presence of such discord.
My lids flutter a moment at his words.
Poor Marshall. My lips press tight as I will my thoughts to his. Usually we’d have to touch, but it’s changed as of late, some perk my mother allotted him probably for light driving and bedding me—or babysitting me in general. Once a union is official the heavens go out of their way to protect it—unless, of course, it involves Gage.
Don’t you know that a lifetime of me will be anything but free of discord? I ask with a quiet sigh.
His bottom lip inverts as if what I just said had bedroom ramifications, but I’m too distressed to play back my conversation. Right now, I’m busy honing my wrath in on Taddy Dearest.
“I said”—I look right at Tad Landon—“you’re not exactly a ball of sanity.”
“Now, now.” Mom bats her hands in the air as if trying to calm me down. She leans toward Laken’s mother. “She gets very little sleep. You see, they’re newlyweds.” She wrinkles her nose with excitement at the innuendo.
Demetri nods as if he too can testify as to why I’m wigging out. “You mentioned they were sleeping on a twin. It must be very uncomfortable.”
Mom inhales so sharply I’m sure she’s going to smack him for being crass enough to drag our poor mattress into this. Now that I think about it, Gage and I do happen to have a lousy mattress history.
“I never thought of that.” Mom presses her hand to her chest with the epiphany. “They’re practically on top of one another all night.” A collective groan comes from the pre-forty side of the room. “I bet that’s exactly the problem.” She turns toward us. “And, Gage, with your bad back? It’s a wonder you can walk.”
Tad burps out a laugh. “It’s a wonder either one of them can walk. They play that mattress like an accordion all night long. I’m all for eighty-sixing it because I can’t sleep with those springs squeaking.” His eyes bulge in our direction. “Six bloody hours that mattress sang last night. It’s a wonder you’re not dead.” He looks to Dr. Booth. “Who ruts for six solid hours?”
Ruts? Hey, that’s my word.
“Youth.” Dr. Booth pours himself another glass of wine. I’m sure he’s sorry he ever got railroaded into coming. Although he’s seen enough of my family to know what to expect. He’s been fairly warned. God, if Emma were here she would have done a face plant in the mashed potatoes by now.
“Animals, that’s who!” Melissa chimes in, inspiring me to throw down my fork with an aggressive clatter.
“Six hours of hot, steaming animal sex?” Darla says it reflectively while fanning herself. Her eyes are set on Demetri as if she were propositioning him. She and the frightening Fem were actually on the road to the altar before he woke up and realized she wasn’t my mother. “God almighty in heaven on high!” She writhes in her seat, and I’m half afraid she’s about to bounce right into her ex-boyfriend’s lap. “Remember those good ole’ days, when we used to do that, hun?” She shimmies her shoulders in his direction, blinding us momentarily with the bronze lame leaves imprinted on her blouse. Mom’s face turns a bright pink. She’s not a fan of Darla and Demetri’s past dalliances. She was the first to clap with glee when she heard their engage
ment was off. Of course, she claimed her enthusiasm was simply due to the fact Darla and he were unable to communicate properly, and she wanted the best for the two of them. But I called bullshit.
“I do recall those heated hours.” Demetri squints out his signature grin. And are we really going there? “It was quite a pleasure.”
“Six hours.” Darla waves me off as an amateur. “Sweetie, we did it for twelve, hot and heavy. Once he took me over the balcony in one of those fancy Seattle high-rises. With every thrust I was like, am I gonna die? Am I gonna live?” She reenacts her horror with a palpable enthusiasm. “It was terribly exciting.” She drags her unnaturally long tongue along the rim of her glass.
I bet my mother is wishing Darla and her nine inch tongue would have splatted flat against some cold Seattle concrete. Sure she would have been terribly upset that Bree and Brooke would have to go through this life mommy free, but, let’s face it, none of us would have been subject to the imagery she just inspired.
Tad shakes his head, still vigorously sawing through the ambitious mountain of white meat piled on his plate. “I’m a firm believer in marital relations. But stuff like that only needs to take place on special occasions, in dark quarters.”
My mother’s eyes widen as she glances nervously to Demetri.
God, is Thanksgiving a special occasion? Is Tad going to try to usher my poor mother into a dark corner tonight? Maybe I should give her a spirit sword to defend herself with.
“All that ridiculous stuff is reserved for dating”—Tad continues with his sexually oppressed tirade—“then, once you say I do, all that nonsense comes to an end, and you can get on with the rest of your life. Isn’t that right, Dr. B? If we all made our mattresses beg for mercy for six hours straight, the planet wouldn’t be able to handle the humanitarian crisis.”
Why is he still speaking? Why is anyone still speaking?
Dr. Booth clears his throat. “Humanitarian crisis? I’m not sure I follow.” I bet he’s racking his brain for any excuse to leave. In fact, any moment now, I expect him to blink right out of his chair Levatio style and take Laken’s poor mother with him. “Are you implying sexual enthusiasm should be relegated to the dating phase of a relationship? Because I whole heartedly disagree.”