Elysian

  “OK, you two.” Mom taps me away and pulls Gage into an enormous bear hug, squeezing the crap out of Beau in the process, perhaps quite literally. And by the looks of things, Mom is getting more action with Gage than I am. “Your neck!” She gasps as she touches the air just shy of the bright red line that travels ear to ear.

  “You got your stitches out,” I say, maneuvering closer to inspect the scar. Crap. Chloe took a perfectly good Gage Oliver and left her rabid mark on him. I’ll have to infuse him with more of my Celestra goodness to bring him back to his normal gorgeous self, not that he’s not gorgeous even with it—Gage is sublime either way.

  “It’s more comfortable without them.” He moves his head side to side. “But I still need to be careful.”

  “Are they going to let you play?” I’m mildly alarmed over his status on the field. I only have one season left to cheer for Logan and Gage, and I’ve been craving to do just that. I want to scream my head off for the two of them, on and off the field.

  “Totally.” He nods. “I’ll be perfect in two weeks. It’s not a big deal.”

  “You’re perfect now,” I purr, wrapping an arm around his waist.

  Mom shakes her head at us with a gentle smile tacked to her lips. “It’s so nice seeing the two of you so in love.” She touches her hand to her heart. “There are some people on this planet who never get to experience what you have. You’re very, very lucky.” Her features fall flat as if she were one of the unfortunate few that Cupid forgot to mow down with his arsenal of arrows. “Anyway, there’s always a time and place for true love. Speaking of which…” She digs a piece of paper out of her pocket. “I wrote down Demetri’s phone number in the event an emergency arises while we’re gone.”

  What? I snatch it from her. “Thank you, I think.” I shoot Gage a look. Why my mother equates Demetri with “true love” of all things is beyond me. Obviously Cupid shot her with the stupid arrow that day—and again when she met Tad. The more I think about it, the more certain I am that Cupid hates my mother.

  Tad stalks into the room with an overstuffed duffle bag.

  I suppose if Tad were my alternative, cowering Fems wouldn’t look all that bad either, but still, Demetri removed my father from the planet. So not cool.

  I make a face. “I’ll be sure to prank call him from the hours of midnight to four a.m. until you get back.” I flick the paper behind my shoulder in open defiance to her sickening quasi-obsession.

  Tad frowns openly at me. “And who is this you think you’ll be prank calling on my dime?”

  “Demetri.” Mom is quick to retrieve his number and settle it on the table as if she were serious. “There’s money for pizza under the cookie jar.” She shoots me a look while Tad brazenly walks over and retrieves the bills tucked under the cookie jar.

  “What are they supposed to eat?” Mom wraps an arm around Beau’s head as if shielding him from the impending confrontation.

  “Hell if I know, Lizbeth,” he barks. “Half of them are almost over eighteen. We’ve got canned goods stacked to the ceiling. Let them figure it out. Maybe the linebacker here can show them to his house for a change.”

  “Oh, ignore him, Gage.” Mom tosses up an arm. “So you just expect them to live off canned peas?”

  Eww.

  “If that’s the crappy canned goods you spend our hard earned money on, then yes!” Or haven’t you shared our little tid-bit of news with the family yet?” He turns to me. “Althorpe has hacked my pay by forty percent. Imagine how much fun it’s going to be trying to feed a family of seven—”

  “Eight,” Mom corrects, bouncing Beau on her hip.

  “Eighteen if you count the football team she keeps hauling over, and the women lining up outside the door—although you can’t fault the boys.” He shakes his head over at Ethan. “They’ve got Landon DNA.”

  And a delusional father.

  The baby starts to grunt, and a serious bout of thunder from down under amplifies from his bottom.

  Great. As if Mom and Tad didn’t have the power to mortify me enough in front of Gage, baby Beau has decided to get in on the action.

  “Oh God, it’s happening!” Mom extricates the baby and begins peeling off his clothes as if he were on fire. Although he does have Landon DNA—I wouldn’t put it past them to get the fire breathing down from the wrong end.

  “What’s happening?” My heart rate spikes, and I’m halfway ready to get the fire extinguisher just to put myself at ease.

  “He’s going number two,” Mom says, plucking off his cute baby jeans and fiddling with the tabs on his diaper. “I’ve got him on elimination communication—you know, going over the toilet.”

  Dear God. How old is he? Two, three months?

  “Look”—she snips over at me—“don’t let things get out of control once we’re gone.” She leans into Gage. “You’re welcome to spend the night if you like. Downstairs, on the couch, of course.” She winks as if she’s kidding. “Be good!” She shouts as she makes a mad dash to the bathroom.

  “Spend the night?” Tad snaps up Beau’s clothes from the ground as he follows Mom down the hall. “Just how many grandkids do you think you can strap to your back, Lizbeth?”

  I give an uncomfortable smile to Gage. Every awkward moment I’ve ever had with this boy has been compliments of Tad and my mother.

  “So?” He presses out one of his signature dimpled grins, and my insides boil with lust. “How many grandkids should we give her?”

  “Six dozen as long as they all look like you,” I smart. He knows damn well I’d have a million of his babies if I could. A moment of strangled silence springs up. “You know I still love you, right?” It comes from me sad, forced because there’s a giant knot of grief forming in my throat.

  Drake smirks into us as he struts on by. “Get a room.” His hair is sticking up as if he just woke up from a nap. Emily crops up behind him, looking equally disheveled, and they ransack the fridge in unison.

  “Do you think they just—?” I don’t even bother finishing the sentence. After all this is Drake who apparently can’t control the Landon trouser snake his DNA imparted on him.

  Mia and Melissa trot over with Giselle in tow.

  “Mom and Dad just took off.” Mia sets her feet in defiance. “We’re going to have a party tomorrow night, so you might want to make like a banana and leave.”

  “It’s make like a banana and split,” Melissa corrects. “Buy some brain cells next time you’re at the mall.”

  “I’ll save the trip and split your head open and steal some of yours!” Mia bellows as if she’s ready to cry. “Oh wait”—her lips cinch up one side—“you don’t have any.”

  “Excuse me?” I jet my neck out, incredulous that my not-so sweet baby sisters had the balls to go there with each other after they called a truce last month. “Nobody’s having a party. And try to get along, would you?” I’ll bet every green dollar of my nonexistent trust fund this little feud can be traced back to some juvie-bound boy.

  Ethan walks in with Chloe dutifully by his side, and the oxygen vacuums out of the room.

  “We’ll be chilling at Nate’s tonight.” Melissa needles me with an aggressive stare that says eat this before threading her arm through Mia’s and heading for the stairs.

  “Who the hell is Nate?” I snap out of my Chloe stupor just long enough to grill my “chillin” sisters but they opt for silence as they stomp their way upstairs.

  Gage sets his lips against my ear. “I think that’s Nat’s little brother.”

  “Natalie Coleman?” My insides turn to concrete. She’s a Count. Gah! That means he’s probably a Count. I definitely don’t want my sisters hanging out with caustic idiots, even if they are a pair themselves—well, Counts. The front door slams shut, signaling it’s a little too late. “I’ll deal with them later.” I twist into Gage, so I don’t have to face the abomination of desolation that’s currently cackling with Emily.

  “It looks like you need someplace to be tomo
rrow night.” Gage squints into the idea, his cobalt eyes light up the room with a smile all their own. “How about you and me hit Rockaway?”

  I compress a breath through my lips. “I sort of promised Logan I’d see his grandma.” I try to make it sound casual like we weren’t at all about to defy the law of physics and transport ourselves to another time and place entirely. Secretly, I’m thrilled—dying to meet his grandmother.

  “Got it.” Gage twitches the dimple on his left, and my stomach melts. He wraps his arms around my waist and touches his nose to mine an inordinate amount of time. “I miss us,” he whispers.

  “Look who’s here?” Chloe shouts like she’s firing up the squad. “Why hello, Logan.” Her voice rises like a flame, and I jump back from the fire that is Gage in a single bound.

  Logan breaks out in a slow-spreading grin, mostly aimed at Gage for evicting me from his presence so efficiently.

  “Just friends, huh?” He directs it toward his nephew.

  I’m guessing this has to do with a conversation I wasn’t privy to, but if either of them wants to be just friends we’re all off to a lousy start. I’d take them both up to the bedroom right now if I could, and I know that’s all kinds of wrong.

  “I was just telling Gage about our trip tomorrow night.” I bite down on my lower lip.

  Chloe steps in with her large doe eyes settled over me in amusement. It feels like a veil of darkness just erupted from the simple fact she’s zeroing in on me with her wicked lasers.

  “A trip?” she sings. “Sounds more like a date. Wouldn’t you say, Gage?”

  “Don’t answer her.” Giselle steps in front of her brother. It’s sort of creepy seeing Emerson come to Gage’s defense. I have to admit I’m still not used to seeing Giselle in her Creepy Kragger jumpsuit.

  Shit. This is all falling to crap. Why the hell would Emerson care if Gage talked to Chloe? I’ll have to brief Giselle in on who she does and doesn’t care for, and considering a Kragger’s at the helm, she’s not supposed to like anybody.

  “Go away,” Chloe bats her hand dismissively. “Can I get everybody’s attention?”

  Brielle wanders into the room with Lexy and Michelle, just in time for the show.

  I wish Ellis were here, and it’s totally my fault he’s not. If I didn’t slice and dice him in the ethereal plane, we could be nursing our red Solos at one of his raging parties right now. Instead, the bitch squad has amassed itself in my living room, and now Chloe is about to open her mouth, and we’ll all be forced to watch the demons fly out.

  “I just want to publically apologize to the only boy I have ever loved.” She latches her wicked gaze onto Gage like a vice grip.

  “Laying it on a little thick are we?” I drill into her. I’m so sick of giving into Chloe, pouring the spotlight over her as if she were the queen. The only throne waiting for her is the one in hell—and there’s no doubt that once she arrives she’ll be the one in charge.

  “I need you to forgive me.” Chloe ignores me as she steps into Gage. “I have hurt you, yes. But only because I loved you.” She reaches up to cup his cheek, and he ticks back a notch rejecting the offer. “You destroyed me,” she whispers as her voice breaks.

  “He destroyed you?” I roar, unable to control the tempest brewing inside me, a whole year in the making. “You’re the one who took a blade to his neck. You’re the one who damn near cost Logan everything! All you ever think about is yourself, Chloe.” I seethe into her with my chest pumping hard. “And, one day, that’s all you’ll have in your life—yourself.”

  A moment of silence thumps by as Chloe and I hone in our hatred for one another. Her eyes light up with a fire that only a satanic spawn like Chloe can produce. Her entire being screams I despise you, Skyla Messenger, and I can feel it—hear it.

  “I’m doing senior portraits.” Emily slaps a notebook down on the bar, and a line quickly forms.

  Drake turns on some music, and the mood in the room elevates to party levels.

  Gage pulls me toward him, his dimples quivering as he nurses a smile on my behalf. “Don’t bother getting yourself worked up. Ten more months and we won’t have to deal with her anymore.”

  “You’re right.” I shake my head, breaking the spell of bitterness she cast me under. Chloe Bishop is like a bad rash—painful while it’s around but will eventually go away. I hope.

  Natalie and Pierce, A.K.A. Holden walk in, and Chloe drifts over to the reject pile.

  Pierce gives a little sarcastic smile, and I turn away. It still creeps me out knowing that he’s really Holden Kragger the asshole who tried to force his way into my pants, thus causing me to kill him with my own bare hands. Of course, now he’s occupying his dead brother’s body because I killed him, too. Stupid Kraggers, always acting like assholes until I’m forced to off them. Although I can’t take credit for Emerson, that would be Chloe’s corpse to claim.

  “I can’t believe they’re here.” I glare over at the Count coven congregating near the sofa. “We’re going to have to burn the place when they leave just to sanitize it.” Sort of like Heaven with Demetri polluting the scene.

  Nat belts out a laugh, sending her cherry curls spraying out behind her, which reminds me to threaten Mia within an inch of her life before getting involved with anyone in Nat’s bloodline. The Colemans are bad news, just like the Kraggers, and the Bishops, and the Armisteads—oh, hell, the list is too long to navigate.

  I turn and face Logan and Gage. The Olivers are definitely good news.

  “Let’s get in line.” Logan pulls me toward the bar, and we stand behind Lexy while Emily spins her black magic and draws out a questionable future for Michelle.

  “My dad says this stuff is totally not kosher with the big guy upstairs,” I say, looking up at Logan’s hard-chiseled features. His chest feels like a wall of granite against my back. “Unless, of course, he’s using it to speak to us in some mysterious way, then it’s totally on the up and up.” I nod into my circular thinking.

  Gage presses into my back, and an electrical current pours from him to me. It sends a dull ache up my spine, alive and viral.

  “I bet I’m in your senior picture,” he whispers.

  “Then that’s how we’ll know it’s bogus.” Logan cinches a dry smile, and I swat him over the shoulder.

  “You know what’s not bogus?” Gage lowers his lids while glaring at Logan. I swear if he were looking at me like that I’d totally accuse him of bedroom eyeing me. “I’ve had an entire slew of brand new visions. You can smirk all you want, but I’ve seen the future unfold like a movie this past week.” Gage huffs a quiet laugh. He doesn’t extrapolate on his nightly prognostications. If this is some ploy for me to get him alone and bribe him with my body until he fills me in on destiny’s design then it’s totally working.

  “Yeah, well.” Logan winces. “Turns out, I’m holding onto a few of my own interesting details that concern the future.” His expression darkens as if it’s anything but good news he’s hoarding. He looks past my shoulder, and I follow his gaze to Chloe. “Excuse me for minute.” Logan rubs my back before heading over to our not-so friendly neighborhood decapitator.

  “What was that about?” I lean into Gage, and my body swims with relief. Gage is like water for my parched affections. Up until the faction war ended, I had my fill of him day after day, and now I’m dehydrated beyond belief.

  Michelle walks away from the bar, admiring a pencil sketch of herself at arm’s length.

  “Wow, that’s good,” I muse, peering at it.

  “Yeah.” She holds it out so Gage and I can get a better look at Emily’s work. It’s a picture of Michelle with her hands in the air, and she’s rocking out in a crowded room. It looks like a scene right out of Ellis’s living room, and in a roundabout way, it gives me hope. “See this?” She points to a banner up above her with Greek lettering that I didn’t even notice. “It’s the sorority I’m going to crash at once I get to Host.”

  “I thought these were senior pic
tures?” I glance over at Lexy who’s busy getting hers done. She’d better not have anything to do with Logan this year—any year. But the diagram looks like Lex is in her cheer uniform, standing all by her lonesome, so I’m not that freaked out.

  “They are senior pictures.” Michelle rattles her paper in my face like she just won the lottery, and Brielle swoops in to check out all the commotion. “I’m going to be partying at Host getting to know my future ‘sisters,’ plus, I’ll probably score a college boyfriend before I ever get there.” Michelle straightens her shoulders and gives us two good reasons why the frat boys at Host will be most interested in her.

  Brielle gasps with excitement. “That means college sex!”

  “Brielle!” I swat her in the arm. “Must you be so crude?”

  “It’s not crude. It’s college.” Michelle is quick to defend Brielle’s synopsis of collegiate affection by emphasizing the not-so obvious. “Besides, why should you be the only one around here to get any action?” She makes a face as though the mere sight of me sickens her.

  “I’m not getting any action.” I shake my head at Gage to affirm my celibate standing.

  Logan swoops over and wraps an arm around my waist. “What kind of action aren’t you getting? And how soon can I fix this?” He blows a feather-soft kiss over my cheek as if to annunciate his point.

  I twist my lips at Gage, and he shakes his head.

  “Oh come on.” Brielle sticks her finger down her throat and gags. “Would one of you please hurry up and deflower little Ms. I’m-Not-Getting-Any-Action? Soon you’ll be the boringest person on the island, Skyla.”

  “Right.” I balk at Bree’s asinine conclusion. “Just because I’m deficient in carnal knowledge does not make me boring.” Does it?

  “Skyla”—she laughs—“you’re the only virgin in this room.”

  Everyone stops breathing and turns to look at me as if I’ve just been outted as some fake. Sheesh. You’d think my girl parts were public enemy number one the way everyone is glaring.

  “No, I’m not.” I glance around. Crap. Even Drake has been corporally defiled. Gage crops to mind, and I take a step toward him and lean in. “I’m not alone.”