Logan leans in. “And she thinks she is now. That’s the terrifying part.” His hand lands over my shoulder. “How are you doing, man?”
I startle for a moment before turning to him. “As if you care?”
“I do care. You’re Gage’s brother. His family is my family. I know he’d be concerned about you—and so am I. This has got to be a shit ride for your ego because on one hand she says she wants you, and on the other you know it’s a lie. You can’t take advantage of her. Once she clears up, she’ll really hate you if you do.” He slaps me over the shoulder again as Skyla comes out with my precious baby girl, her dark curls already down to her shoulders, those serious eyes lighting up with delight at the sight of me. She turned one in October, her namesake month, the month of her birth. Tobie was born on Halloween night in the woods by a true witch named Chloe Bishop. But Tobie is an angel, through and through.
“Come here, baby girl.” I pull her in and bury a kiss over the top of her head. Her small arms grip me with such a ferocity it makes me wonder if she’s had a bad dream. The only other time she holds onto me this way is when Chloe is in the room. I look to Skyla who lovingly pets Tobie’s curls and ask a question I’m not entirely sure I want the answer to. “Where’s Chloe?”
“I’m not her keeper.” She darts a quiet glance to Logan, and it’s evident she knows something. “I may have beaten her to a bloody pulp and left her for dead in Demetri’s basement.” She touches her hand to her face, and I note a series of lines cresting down her left cheek. Her arms look as if she were ravaged by a wolverine—a wolverine I’m still technically married to. “You’ll see the damage. My mother has gifted us the ability to keep our scars.” She blinks back tears. “I don’t see why not. Gage is the biggest scar, and I wear him right over my broken heart.” She looks to me with heavy eyes as if just the sight of me pained her, and I’m sure it does the same way looking at Kresley pained me. “Behave yourself. Text me once Ezrina is here. I want to know everything.”
Coop and Laken stride over, looking like a united front, and my stomach drops at the thought of the spell the feds inadvertently cast over Laken breaking so quickly. A greedy part of me was hoping it would last forever. Deep down, I know that’s not right, not what Laken would have wanted by a long shot, but I can’t help it. My flesh has always been weak when it comes to this girl.
“Oh my God.” Laken’s hands cover her mouth, her eyes watering with tears of what look like joy. “Is this her? Your baby girl?” She wraps a finger around one of Tobie’s curls and Tobie lunges for her, practically jumping into Laken’s arms and everyone gives a little laugh.
“This is Tobie,” I say carefully, making the handoff. “She turned one on Halloween, thus October Edinger. Skyla helped name her.”
“Skyla named her? I thought you said someone named Chloe was her mother?” Laken rocks and coos into Tobie’s smiling face.
Skyla scoffs. “Like I said, Chloe is persona non grata.”
Logan wraps an arm around Skyla’s shoulder. “Chloe is missing the mothering gene and every other gene that has to do with human decency.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Laken blesses Tobie’s cheek with a kiss. “My God, Wes, she’s so precious. I’m in love already.”
Tobie kicks and giggles as if she agreed.
“And on that note,” I say, tickling Tobie’s side. “I need to feed her and get her to bed. It’s late.”
Skyla and Logan each give Laken an apprehensive embrace.
“Do not do anything,” Skyla reprimands. “Ezrina will be here in the morning.”
She and Logan take off, and it’s just a standoff between Laken and Coop. God, I never thought I’d say this, but I truly feel sorry for the guy.
“Laken, I can’t leave.” Coop’s voice comes out hoarse. “You have to understand. I will never forgive myself if I leave you here with him.” He looks to me for less than a second. “You wouldn’t want me to go.”
Laken takes a breath and links her arm in his, the baby still nestled on her hip as if she’s been holding Tobie forever. “Well, you are leaving.” She walks him right to the door. “I promise I’m more than fine. I’ll see you in the morning, I’m sure.” She lands him on the porch and glares at the massive wooden doors that I’m prone to never shut. I’m betting right about now she wishes she could slam at least one of those massive wooden and iron sculptures in his face.
“All right. Have it your way.” Coop grips the back of his neck and takes off into the deep navy night.
“Finally,” Laken whispers as we get back to the living room. Laken asks me every question under the sun as she helps me feed and dress Tobie for bed, and I answer to the best of my ability—truthful each and every time.
“So Mom and Lacey are really okay?”
“Jen and Fletcher, too,” I promise her. Laken’s family has always felt like my own. And after our split, it was as if I was dead to them. How quickly their loyalty shifted to Cooper. And to think I once considered Fletch like my own brother. Yes, losing Laken was a hard lesson in many respects.
We put Tobie to bed, and shockingly, she falls peacefully to sleep. I lead Laken to the guest room nearest mine.
“You’ll sleep here.”
Those impossibly long lashes blink up at me. “Is this your room?”
I give a simple shake of the head because I’m afraid of where this might be heading.
“Then I’m not sleeping here.” Her skin is creamy smooth, her eyes backlit, those ruby lips tie themselves in a bow as she holds back a smile.
I lead her down the hall, run a bath for her, bring out the best towels, the softest robe, and sit in bed while she gets comfortable. It’s hard to believe I have Laken back—my Laken, here in my home, within striking distance of my bed, and it makes me sick to think if she was in her right mind there would be no way she’d want to be anywhere near me.
A solid hour later, she emerges with the robe wrapped tight around her. Laken’s hair glistens in long golden waves. How I used to love getting lost in that downy mane.
She crawls onto the bed beside me.
“Laken.” My own voice drips with disappointment, like a betrayal.
“Don’t you Laken me.” She warms her body against mine like a kitten curling up at my side. Her arms wrap tight around me. “You said the government kidnapped me, Wes. I’m terrified. You said we’re beasts with powers. I have a best friend I’ve never seen before and a husband—my God, I can’t even imagine what I was thinking. I can’t help but want to be near you. Please don’t let those people back in tomorrow. I can’t take another minute of their sullen faces. I need some time alone”—her fingers graze my cheeks—“with you.”
Her mouth rises to meet mine, and everything in me screams run—it screams stay all at the very same time. Her lips brush over mine, and I die a slow death on the inside. This, right here, is everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I’ll ever need.
“Wesley.” Her cool fingers glide up my shirt, and I groan without meaning to.
To have Laken’s skin against mine in such an intimate way feels as if the universe has somehow righted itself. Yes, I’ve had Laken before under false pretenses, but this feels far more personal, far more of a gift than that ever could.
“Make love to me the way you did last night.” She shakes her head as if blinking away the discrepancy. “I’m sorry—the way you did that night at the lake. It’s the last memory I have.” She curves her finger under my chin, her powder blue eyes bearing into mine. “And I’m glad about it, too.”
Last memory she has? Holy crap. A dull sigh expels from me. Laken and I never made love by the lake, not really. But as of late, I’ve made a few jaunts back in time and rewritten history in a manner that better suited my needs—my need for Laken’s soft body pressed to mine to be exact. I needed to be with her, to be in her to feel complete. It was a desperate move, considering the fact that Laken and I hadn’t slept together at all while we were growing up in Cider Plains. Nope.
It was nothing but pure sexual greed on my part. Nevertheless, Laken began perceiving it as a memory, a real one, and Coop got wise to my night moves. He’s taken it to the Justice Alliance, and if they find me guilty of a single malfeasance, I am ironically truly fucked. The last thing I need or want is a disturbance on any angelic front. I’m this close to permanently covering the markers of my people. I’d hate to think I bit myself in the ass by way of some sophomoric blunder.
“Laken.” I pull back and grimace. “I love you. I never stopped. I need you to know that.”
She makes a face while gently scratching the scruff on my cheek, and my balls ache to have her. “Why do I feel a but coming on?”
“Because you’re married.”
“So are you.” She shakes her head as if it doesn’t make a darn of a difference. “They’re fake marriages, Wes. You said so yourself. I’ll search out a top-notch divorce lawyer in the morning. You can help me.”
“No, no, no,” A dark laugh strums from me. “Coop would love that.” I give a wistful shake of the head. “No can do. You do love him. I promise you that. As for me and Chloe, well, that’s another matter.”
“You did it for the baby?” She gives a partial shrug as if trying to help me along with a valid excuse.
“I did it exactly for the baby. I love Tobie. I wanted to give her a proper mother and missed by a horrible mile. Chloe hates her daughter as much as she hates me.”
Laken shakes her head as if contesting the idea. “No mother hates her child, Wes. That’s a little harsh.”
“You haven’t met Chloe. Hate is her middle name.” The air grows still. The scent of Laken’s sweet skin intoxicates me as if it were an exotic spice. Laken has always held the scent of fresh lemons and sea spray. She’s always had the power to transport me to some distant place, a better place.
“I don’t care about any of those things or people.” Her hands wrap around my back as she gives a gentle rub. “All I care about is you and me, Wes. I don’t need anyone else in this life. I just need you to breathe.” Tears glitter in her eyes as she pulls off my shirt and blesses a cool kiss just below my neck.
“Laken, you don’t really want to do this.”
“But you’re not really going to stop me, are you?” She glances up with a wicked gleam in her eye. “And if you were—all of the power you profess to have wouldn’t be enough to do it.” Laken licks a line straight to my belly before swimming back up and diving over me with a kiss to top every lip-lock we have ever shared. Her mouth over mine, her tongue devouring me as if I were her favorite meal.
Once upon a time Laken wanted me. She lusted after me with a fever. It was that way in the beginning once she arrived at Ephemeral, too. Then greed, and all of the power I profess to have got in our way. Lines were drawn in the proverbial sand, and we found ourselves standing on opposite ends. Enemies. My worst nightmare realized, Laken and I no longer of one mind, of one heart.
“I want you, Wes,” she breathes hard in my ear before her hand slides to the lip of my jeans. “And tonight I’m going to have you. Now, are you going to deny me, or are you going to side with me on this?”
A dark laugh brews in my chest. “Oh, honey, I couldn’t deny you a single thing.”
My mouth lands over hers with a power I’ve yet to unleash on a woman. I pour out hard kisses, passionate, I’ll-love-you-to-the-grave-and-back kisses—and Laken and I have done just that. I move my body over hers and lift her arms up over the pillow, pinning her down the way I’ve done in those light drives about a thousand times. Laken and I have done every physical act imaginable back in Cider Plains under the orchestration of my haunted mind. But tonight, there is something sweet about this moment, even if the entire event is marred with deception.
She strips me clean, and I do the same until her heated flesh singes against mine and I let out a moan of agony. I have waited for this moment for so long it pains me on some level to know it’s arrived, to know it’s still a damn lie. Our bodies leash together as we wrestle it out with our mouths. And then I’m in her, pressing up against the nexus of her being as we cry out in ecstasy together far into the carnal hours of the night.
Laken is back in my life, if only for a moment.
And I can’t help but think I’ve damned myself to hell in the sweetest way possible.
2
Dark Angel
Skyla
The Christmas season has fallen hard over Paragon, as every soul on the island does their part to festoon this overgrown rock with colorful lights, plastic Santas, and blow-up snowmen. Grinches galore adorn front lawns, and everywhere you look there’s an evergreen tied to the roof of a car. Liam and Michelle have been running the Christmas tree lot on the land that Logan accidentally acquired last year. In the fall it became the Oliver Pumpkin Patch, and now that the focus of festivities is all things pine, he’s wisely turned the back lot into a chop your own Christmas tree farm. Logan was hands-on in the fall overseeing the jovial melee, but we’re still both reeling since the incident. Gage’s death. The violent removal of our heart from our lives.
I dress the boys, feed them mashed bananas and oatmeal before making each a bottle—something I wouldn’t get to do in peace had my mother been in the house. She’s in the back, along with everyone else, so I bundle Nathan and Barron up as if they were headed out for a space mission, and the three of us venture into the meadow-like backyard of the Landon house.
“Ma-ma!” Barron cries until I pick him up. Technically, both the boys can walk, but at this point it’s more of a theory than an actual event taking place on the regular. Both Nathan and Barron are dark-haired, dimple-cheeked, cobalt blue-eyed duplicates of their daddy. But Barron is a bit more demanding in nature. His curiosity a bit more vibrant. Nathan offers a peaceable smile as if silently making a pact with me to be the easy one. I offer a quick nod back, if not for anything else, for wishful thinking.
We head outside, and the frosty winter air nips at our cheeks. Paragon doesn’t host traditional seasons. She’s too proud for that ubiquitous nonsense. She hosts one long gray seamless night ensconced with a fog so thick you could lose your hand in front of you. The air outside is icy, scented sharply with fresh cut pines.
The Landon backyard is crawling with bodies, with fistfuls of them gathered around dozens of tables, and each one of the tables has someone haggling down the price of some homemade treat. My mother had a last-minute brainstorm to host a craft fair at a local park for the entire island but was quickly reprimanded from the city for attempting to sell goods without a permit. And since said permit was more than a hundred bucks, the craft fair was quickly converted to a backyard extravaganza. Mom has the boom box going with “Jingle Bells” on blast, and I spot Nat and Emily Morgan at a booth of their own selling hot cocoa while wearing Santa hats. The entire yard has a festive appeal that you can’t deny no matter how hard you wish it would all go away. But the last thing a miserable person like me wants is a hundred jolly people ready to dance a holiday-inspired jig.
I scan the crowd and note a few familiar faces. Down at a booth manned by Melissa stands Melody Winters with her red hair pulled back like a flame, her pale skin looks as if she dusted it with baking flour, and knowing what I do about her, she might have. She’s a transplant from the seventeenth century. Somehow, in the seventeenth century shitshow, she managed to steal a ring gifted to Marshall by my mother in the sky. I twist the sapphire stone with my thumb. I haven’t taken it off since Chloe landed it on my finger. Marshall was relieved to see I have it. Melody wanted it back, claiming Chloe stole it from her, but too bad for Smelly Melly. A thief doesn’t get to choose what he keeps once she’s caught. The ring is hewn from the very throne of God Himself. It was what I used to help resurrect the dead last year in hopes to populate Raven’s Eye with them. That ended badly. Or well, depending on your viewpoint. It reminds me that fate has a way of righting itself, and considering the fact my mother is fate, and those were in fact her words, I’m a little bit afraid of
this hewn piece of sapphire.
I crane my head, looking for more familiar faces, and spot Carly Foster in all her ditzy glory. She’s next to her forever bestie, Carson Armistead, and both are huddled near a table cluttered with what looks like makeup samples. Lord knows there isn’t a cosmetics miracle in the universe to cover up the ugly inside of them.
No sooner do I hit the bottom step of the porch than Bree snatches Barron from me.
“How you doing?” She winces because it’s obvious to Bree that I’ve been a basket case for weeks. Her hair is freshly dyed a cartoonish shade of red, curled and teased in every direction, and it gives it a distinctive ’80s vibe. Bree is a beauty no matter what color her hair is. Her wide eyes and easy smile have always been enough to highlight her beauty. “Any word from Demetri?”
“No.” I shoot a dirty look toward my mother’s bustling booth. She’s happily surrounded by her grandchildren, Beau and Ember, and Misty is right there with them, selling enough vaginally-inspired jewelry to outfit the entire island in hoo-has. Last spring, in a fit of financial desperation, my mother made a fistful of money selling snow globes filled with unicorn turd. Frighteningly enough, people lined up in hordes as evidenced by the fact my mother skated her way to a small fortune via eBay. And in the midst of the melee, Chloe managed to navigate my mother from sewage to birthing canals. In other words, Chloe convinced her that female family jewels were all the rage. She actually used the boys’ precious feet to create the perfect vaginal mold. It really pissed Gage off. I will admit, she had the folds down to perfection, and the tiny pearl embedded at the bud looks absolutely precious.
I turn to Brielle. “Demetri’s not off the hook, though. Believe you me, this day isn’t ending without an outright begging session on my part. I can’t stand the pain, Bree.” My lips press tight, and I blink back tears while Nathan proceeds to slap me silly.