Celestra Forever After

  “I’ll be your liaison. Nobody knows Wesley like I do. I know his plan, Skyla. It’s a good one. You’re not dealing with an idiot here. Wes is brilliant. The only hope to save the entire Nephilim race is stay two steps ahead.”

  Chloe knows the plan. She knows this secret about Gage that’s been weighing on my heart like a stone that refuses to roll off. I need to know these things.

  God, what I’d do to know them.

  “No.” I blurt out, and both my body and soul feel buoyant, as if rising from Chloe’s strangling grip.

  “You’ll change your mind. You know where to find me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a crisp Benjamin in my pocket and strict orders from Wesley to burn each dime on sexy lingerie.” She clicks her tongue at Laken. “You know that part about Wes being a lousy lover?” A smile spreads clean and wide over her face. “I lied.”

  Chloe takes off like a bullet for the escalator.

  “Chloe lies about everything. Wes probably can’t stand the sight of her.” I try to break Laken’s gaze, but she’s transfixed on the queen of mean and doesn’t take her eyes off her until she’s out of sight.

  “I’d better get the girls.” Laken stands, and I do the same. “Do you think she’d tell us the truth? If she’s willing to tell us anything at all, it might be worth it.”

  “Are you kidding? She’ll torment me and Gage forever.” Crap, Laken is probably right. “I’ve got a Sector I’m close to, and my mother is a Caelestis. I’m going to see what they’re willing to say before I make some insane promise to my least favorite lunatic.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you in class.”

  I glance up at Chloe striding across the second level just as she bumps into Bree and Giselle.

  This is wrong. It’s all wrong.

  The Tunnels. Wesley’s insane power grab to take down the Nephilim. This big secret regarding Gage. All these thoughts swirl around me like a tempest.

  I know for a fact I can’t see my mother until she’s good and ready. But as for that smartass Sector, well, I’ll be in front of him within twenty-four hours.

  Gage

  After school, Skyla headed off to the mall, so I figured it was a perfect time to pay a visit to my least favorite Fem. Dad offered to go with me, hell, he insisted, but I’m pretty sure this is one visit I want to make alone. Something in me knows I’m about to hear shit news, one way or another, and I don’t know what I’ll do.

  I park my truck square in front of Edinger’s estate. It’s Gothic, enormous, and blends into the fog as if it were trying to do everyone a favor and disappear. Demetri’s oversized mansion is an exact replica of the one in the Transfer. Fems are bogus that way, stealing people, places, and things, and now I wonder what he’s done with me.

  I head up, taking the stairs two by two. You’d think I was excited as hell to be here, but I just want to get this over with so I can get on with the rest of my short life.

  Rose petals are scattered across the matt, and I’m about to scoff when those strange dreams come back to me. The door opens before I have the chance to knock, and the devil himself stands on the other end ready and willing to greet me.

  “Mr. Oliver.” That fucked up grin plastered to his face expands. “I thought we might be meeting this way sooner or later. Wesley tells me you’ve had the pleasure.”

  “I kicked the shit out of Wesley about a year ago. He tell you that?” I stride past him without waiting for an invite. “Look, I’m in a hurry.” My chest rises and falls as I dust the place with a quick glance. “What’s going on? Dr. Flanders ran some tests, and I’ve got the same NSO marker staining my genes as that shit-bag you’ve got parading around as your son.”

  “Good work.” He extends his hand to the living room, but I’m not about to follow him anywhere.

  “I’m not taking another step in this haunted house. This is the no bullshit zone. Have you been screwing with my DNA? Why the hell do I look so much like your wicked spawn?” I swallow hard because this next part is all that matters. “And what does this have to do with Skyla?”

  “Let’s see.” He connects his palms and bows his head as if considering my words. “To answer your first question, technically, no. Second, I’d be slow to refer to my heir as a wicked spawn. And third”—his head tilts back, his eyes fix on mine, strong and immovable—“in the end it has little to do with Skyla and everything to do with my future grandchildren.”

  The room spins for a moment. That meatball foot-long I split with Skyla demands to eject itself from my stomach, and I just might let it.

  “I’m a Levatio,” I whisper to myself as a means to subside the nausea. “I have the gift of knowing, I can levitate, teleport.” I lean back against the marble covered wall to keep from falling. “I’m not your anything.”

  “Quite frankly, I don’t care what you believe.”

  “Why would you do this?” I can hardly bring myself to look at the monster.

  “Long before Celestra and the Countenance ever came to be, there was another call to arms, another war that brought the victor power. At that time the Fems weren’t able to hold their own. We sided with the Counts instead of lying down for the master.”

  “The Master?” That’s a reference to God himself.

  “Let me clarify—our new masters—the Sectors. We were second in line, no longer able to stand before the throne without escort, without their purported permission. We were servants to their every whim.”

  “And, like the Counts, you couldn’t give a rat’s ass.”

  “Well put. And, now, here we are. The final race for power culminating, right here in your time. Isn’t that exciting? You, my son, have a part to play in all this. You, alone, have procured the Holy Grail. Partake of her, taste and see the goodness that comes from the fruit of my labor.”

  Shit. “Dominion.” I groan as all of the dreams, all of the hopes I had for Skyla and me diminish in smoke and ashes.

  “You’ve made me so proud.” His eyes sparkle like cut glass.

  “Don’t get your hopes up just yet, Pops,” I say as I open the door. “If that’s the case, Skyla and I aren’t having any children.”

  I’m not sitting around, engaging him for the specifics. A part of me isn’t accepting any of this. It’s obviously bullshit. I know who my father is, and it’s not that shell of a man.

  I take off and jump into my truck.

  Skyla and I aren’t having any children because if what he says is true, Skyla won’t want anything to do with me.

  I text Skyla and ask if she wants to grab a bite. She says yes, so I pick up two-dozen long stem roses before heading over.

  Here. I text at the base of her driveway. I’m not in the mood for her ranting lunatic of a stepfather tonight. I might lose it if he accuses me of eating through his kitchen one more time. The truth is, he buys crap food that I wouldn’t eat if you paid me. Half the time when I eat what his wife cooks, it’s because I’m trying to be nice.

  Skyla bounces down the driveway with her hair in a ponytail, her teeth glittering as she gives a giant smile. And every damn part of me wants to weep, right down to my wicked bones. God almighty, why couldn’t this one thing go my way? I’ve wanted Skyla more than anything. I’d swear on my mother’s soul that my love for her is genuine. This thing we have—this marriage—it’s the real deal. I’d die for her right now if she asked me to, and she just might.

  The door opens, and an icy breeze slaps me in the face. “Hey, good looking.” She jumps into the passenger seat and buckles up.

  “These are for you.” I pull the supersized bouquet from behind her seat.

  “Gage Oliver!” she screams. “Oh my, God, they’re gorgeous! Thank you. I love you.” She lands her lips onto mine, crushing the flowers between us. “Why on earth are you giving me such gorgeous, expensive gifts?”

  “Because you said you hate Mondays.” I brush the hair from her beautiful face and a part of me wants to break down and cry, tell her everything I know right now. I start u
p the truck and head toward town. “I don’t want you to hate Mondays. I want you to love everything.” Including me, but I don’t say it.

  “Gage.” Skyla pulls it out in an aching drawl, the way she does sometimes when we’re making love. I close my eyes for a second and nearly rear end a hatchback. “Whoa, you okay?”

  “I’m better than okay. I’m with you.” I nod at the burger place across the street. “Drive through okay?”

  “Better than okay, I’m with you.” She gives my knee a squeeze. Skyla always knows the right thing to say.

  We pick up our food and drive down to Devil’s Peak. There’s a small crowd of high school kids crammed in the lot, so I take the dirt trail down to the base and park just shy of the jagged rocks. Skyla and I watch as the ocean churns out one monster wave after another. She hands me a burger, and I just stare at it. My lunch may have stayed put, but there’s no telling what my digestive system might do once I tell her the truth.

  “You’re not eating.”

  “I’m good. You go ahead.” I flip on the radio and flex my arms behind my neck as the fog rolls in, thick and heavy like an avalanche.

  “Well, if you’re not eating, I’m not eating.” Skyla crawls onto my lap until we’re facing each other, her thighs on either side of my waist. “Maybe we should skip straight to dessert?”

  “I like the sound of that.” I wall up my thoughts.

  Crap. I shouldn’t be doing this. Knowing that the unfathomable is a possibility, I should tell her. Let her make her own choice. A tiny part of me is delusional enough to believe she might still pick me.

  Her lips fall over mine, hot and wet. Skyla dives her tongue into my mouth and probes me with her urgent revolutions, her throaty moans. Loving Skyla has been like living on the back of a hurricane. In the beginning it was such a beautiful mess, and, unfortunately for me, it looks as if it’s going to end that way, too.

  “You’re mine,” she whispers, and my eyes fill with tears like a pussy. I crack a smile as I seal my mouth over hers again. There’s no rush in telling her anything I’m not too sure about. No need to work the both of us up over something that will most likely pan out to be another Count-inspired scheme. Hell, Demetri might have skewered my blood with something far removed from his DNA. Wes pops back in my mind as if to refute the idea. And why, Wes? What the hell is the deal with that? It looks like I’ll spend the rest of my short life trying to push Wes and his twisted father out of my mind. But deep down, I want answers. And the place to start might just be by having a really tough conversation with my mother. She would know whose son I am.

  Skyla pulls away with that drugged look on her face, her eyes glazed over. Her fingers work on unbuttoning my jeans, and I lean the seat back.

  Nope. I’m not giving my mother or any other supposed family members another thought. Tonight is all about Skyla and me, just the way it should be.

  Skyla plucks my hard-on out of my boxers and holds it between us like an offering.

  “Do you have a license to carry a concealed weapon?” She rasps it out serious, and it’s tough not to laugh. “Because if you don’t, I might have to report you to the proper authorities.”

  “Yeah?” I nestle back and settle her square over me. “Who would that be?”

  “That would be me.”

  “Then no, I don’t. Is there a fine?” I’m not going to lie. I’m enjoying the hell out of our little role playing game. Skyla has a way of making every day new, and I hope I can do the same for her.

  “Nope, no fine—but I’ll have to take disciplinary action. I’m sorry”—she slips off my knees and rearranges herself until her head is lying in my lap—“I’m going to punish you, and you’ll have to pretend to like it.” Her eyes catch what little light the moon is giving off, and everything in me loosens. “I may or may not bite.” Skyla rises over me, and her lips part just enough. She traces her mouth with the tip of my dick like it’s lipstick, and I dig my fingers into her hair. “You want this don’t you?” She teases. “Maybe you should say please?”

  “No.” I moan. I don’t deserve to have her sitting next to me, let alone going down on me.

  “Playing hardball, huh? I see.” She slips her cool hand down my skin and works her fingers carefully over my balls. My body pulsates as she massages the hell out of me. A hard groan sears from my lungs.

  “Do it.” I press her head gently toward me. I can’t take it anymore. Skyla has me right where she wants me.

  Skyla dips her lips about halfway down and pulls up with a suction that’s hard to believe isn’t Celestra based.

  “Skyla.” I hold her head down and guide her as she rides me with her mouth. “Just like that,” the words choke out of me. “Shit.” She keeps at it as I hold her hostage with a death grip over her skull. Skyla is the love of my life—my wife. I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve the royal treatment tonight or any other night. I gently lift her off me, leaving my dick red-faced and angry that I’ve let her stop. The windows drip with beads of sweat. “Come here.” I remove her sweater and work her jeans off. “Lay down.” I kiss Skyla sweetly, starting at the tip of her forehead before working my way to her cheek, her neck, right down to her chest and pause. I flip up her bra and land my mouth over her hard nipple, roll it around on my tongue like it’s candy.

  If my worst nightmare turns out to be true, then Skyla is going to hate me one day. Tonight maybe. She won’t know what to make of me. She’ll be nice about it at first, but then we’ll go our separate ways because it’s obvious we’ll have to.

  “I want you in me.” Skyla clasps her warm fingers over my dick and plunges me inside of her.

  “No way.” I pull out like jumping out of the path of a tornado. For sure until things are cleared up, the topic of kids is off the table. “We don’t want to chance anything, and I’m just about there.” I offer a wet kiss over her ear before opening the glove box to scout for protection.

  “One day, we’re going to want to chance it.” She bites down on her strawberry smile. “We’re going to love each other just like this, and something beautiful is going to come from it. Do you know how exciting that will be?”

  My heart sinks because Skyla has stars in her eyes. She’s dreaming of babies, and, if all goes according to the shit script my life seems to be sticking to, they will never exists.

  She helps me roll it on, and I carefully press deep inside her.

  Here. Right here is where I always want to be. Her heart thumps over my chest as I move in and out, slowly, savoring the ride one last time. This is nothing short of a kiss from heaven. This is everything I’ve ever wanted as far back as I can remember—and all the way into the distal future.

  “I love you, Skyla.” It grunts out of me. “Don’t ever forget that.”

  “I love you forever.” Her voice breaks up in jags with each thrust I give.

  Forever. It was just a joke from the beginning.

  I soak in this feeling as my love for Skyla explodes, shaves me right down to the bone. My body trembles into hers uncontrollably, unrepentantly just like my love for her.

  She lands a kiss over my temple before securing her grip over me.

  I lean up and catch her face in the shadows—beautiful as a night poem written across a dark canvas. Speaking of which…

  “I wrote you something.” I brush my lips over her forehead.

  “You did?” Her face brightens.

  “Before we were married. I wrote it for our wedding day.” I press a kiss over her scalding cheek and hold it there.

  “I want to hear it.”

  “Remind me, and I’ll read it to you later. It’s tucked away in my bedroom somewhere.”

  “You are the sweetest most thoughtful person on the planet, Gage Oliver.” She dots the sentiment with a kiss. “Speaking of bedroom. I talked to married housing today.” Her expression sours. “It’s still way more than we could ever afford.”

  “Mmm.” I brush the hair from her face and drink her down like this, naked in my
arms.

  “But we’ll figure something out,” she purrs the words over my neck. “We can’t just keep sneaking around your parent’s house. God knows I’ve bumped into Kresley in her no-see-um PJs on more than one occasion.”

  Crap, so have I. “I’ll tell my mom no more weekend slumber parties. Enough is enough.”

  “I’d protest, but I’m looking forward to giving her the boot myself. I can’t wait until it’s just you and me.”

  “You and me,” I echo, afraid we might be fleeting. I run my hand down to her soft curls at the base of her hips. “You didn’t have a good time tonight.”

  “I had the best time.” She runs her fingers down past my belly button and gives me a scratch. “Anytime we’re together it’s a good time.”

  “You’re sweet, but here I am trying to bribe you into liking Mondays, and, meanwhile, your new husband engages in greedy sex.”

  “Greedy?” She belts out a laugh, and the entire truck bounces with her. “You’ve got to be kidding me. If anything I’m the greedy one. I can never get enough of your love—or your body.” Her fingers graze my balls, and I suck a quick breath through my teeth.

  “Yeah, well, just to keep in good standing with your body, I plan on returning the favor. I pepper her with kisses before landing my mouth on hers. I reach down and dip my fingers into her warmth and groan. Skyla feels like silk, wet from our love. My fingers run over her folds, and her breathing picks up a notch. If she leaves me, and she should, I’m going to miss the hell out of loving her—touching her, breathing her. I slip a finger deep inside her body, and she bucks into me. I work my thumb over her folds at the same time. I want nothing more than to pump my hand in and out of her all night—find a million new ways to be with her because it might be the very last time.

  I take my time getting her there, loving her like this, dousing my mouth over hers like pouring gasoline on a fire.

  “Gage.” She spikes her nails into my back as her body quivers into mine. Skyla climaxes right there in my hand, warm as summer rain.

  This is still our moment. As long as I keep my mouth shut, we can still be Skyla and Gage, loving each other like this night after night—lost in our proverbial forever.