But I know I have to tell her.
As soon as I find out the truth.
Logan
Paragon trembles under the violent deluge of rain. It baptizes the island like sickles falling from heaven. Dudley’s home throbs under the driving rain like a sexual current, and all I can think of is Skyla—and Gage loving her. It plays like some pornographic reel in my mind that I can’t shut off. Skyla laying her hands on his chest. Gage peeling her clothes off in record time. The slow dance to the bed with the two of them locked at the lips.
“Did you hear me?” Liam kicks my foot off the coffee table.
“What?” I groan, replacing my shoe. Liam and Michelle Miller have been droning on about everything under the sun for the last half hour. It’s clear she didn’t stop here to “drop something by.” In fact, she never once asked where Dudley was. She’s been too busy yapping it up with my brother. I should have known earlier when she asked where we were staying there might be trouble.
“Never mind.” He slumps back and offers Michelle a goofy grin. “So what’s keeping you busy these days?”
Her lids fall low. “You, if you’ll let me.” Her lip jets out as if she’s pouting.
And so it begins. I glance back in the direction of the kitchen where a strange glow lights up the area.
“What about you?” Michelle purrs the words with a moan. “What’s keeping you busy?”
“Hopefully you.” Liam starts panting like he just ran a race.
“Maybe we should go upstairs and see if we can keep each other busy for the next few hours? All night if you’re lucky.”
“Oh, I’m feeling lucky all right.”
Lucky like a junkyard dog. Michelle Miller has sniffed more balls than a Golden Retriever. I think she bagged Dudley under this very roof.
He helps her off the couch as the two of them head for the stairs.
Liam nods over to me. “Do me a favor, and let Emma know I won’t be able to make it tonight.”
“Not a problem.”
I’ve been meaning to talk to Barron. Not sure how to bring up the fact I’m having doubts about Gage. But, aside from that, at least I can fill him in on Wesley’s plans to harvest the earth of Nephilim. He’s a genuine piece of shit, and, yet, a part of me has a hard time hating him because I keep seeing Gage.
I head over to the kitchen, and that brilliant glow magnifies in strength.
“Dudley?”
“Be gone, Oliver,” he barks from the dining room, so I head in that direction.
Dudley is seated at the table with a tall glow stick of a man that I recognize from the faction war, Delphinius. Next to him is the freak with one eye, Rothello. Him I recognize from Ahava. He’s a member of the foursome that makes up the Decision Council along with Skyla’s mother.
“What’s going on? Big celestial powwow? I grab a seat, and the three of them back up as if a foul odor just seeped into the vicinity, which it probably did.
“If you must know”—Dudley leans in, his entire face radiates like a flame—“the Sectors have been bested by your defunct nephew. I’ve always known he was up to no good with his boy-next-door face, his muscles for brains, but I had no idea how livid I’d be when I found out.” Marshall slams his hands down on the table so hard the room shakes. The veins protrude on his neck, thick as cables. “Everybody out!” His voice roars right through my bones.
The room evaporates, and a steely fog blooms around me. I’m standing on the porch at the Oliver house, freezing as shit without a jacket in the pouring rain.
I look up at my old home, and I wish to God I could relive the last two years. My heart breaks because I can’t—because a part of me is too afraid to face what might have just come to pass.
I make my way to the door and turn the handle.
I’m not sure what made Dudley so livid with Gage, but I’m not going to rest until I find out.
Ready or not Gage, here I come.
11
The Wicked Truth
Skyla
After our little romp down at Devil’s Peak, I ask Gage to take me home so I can get a few more things for my overnight bag. He drops me off and lets me know he needs to gas up real quick, but I know for a fact he’s had enough of Tad’s bullshit. I make a beeline for my room and listen as a rumble of voices seep in from next door. It’s been twenty minutes of Mia and Melissa fighting nonstop. I feel terrible. I keep meaning to talk to Mia about life in general. I know how crappy things can be in this house, but, realistically, I can’t get either one of us out of this situation.
A loud rattle emits from their bedroom, then footsteps trample their way downstairs. There’s that.
I’d better head down to see if there are casualties. And then, of course, I’ll have to face Mom. Both she and Mia have been giving me the cold shoulder as of late, I’m assuming because of my non-presence. If they knew that Gage and I were official, then they might actually understand. It pains me to keep something so important from them. Not to mention, they’ll probably be pissed to high heaven when they find out I’ve been keeping something so big to myself. Maybe I should just get it over with? I’ll just pull them to the side and let them in on my big secret, and when Gage gets back, we can all go out for a quick bite to eat. Not that any of us have any cash to burn, but a forty-nine cent taco or a cup of coffee from the gas station might be in the works.
I speed down to the kitchen ready to tell Mom everything. I’m sick of all the secrets. I’m sick of all the lies. I’m finally going to—
“What the hell?” I stop short of the dining room and take a breath.
Tad sits at the table with a napkin twisted up each nostril while everyone around him proceeds to nosh on their bacon and eggs as if his ability to sprout spontaneous tusks were an everyday occurrence.
“He’s got a severe nasal drip.” Mom glances up before returning to the task of folding miniature sanitary napkins for her husband’s currently defunct sniffer.
Drake points his fork hard over in Tad’s direction. “You probably have your brain leaking out of your nose. You hear about that all the time now. I bet that’s what’s happening.”
I shake my head. “Makes total sense.”
“We’re having breakfast for dinner. Care to join us?” Mom asks, rather curt.
I reconsider my stance on letting them in on my nuptial standing while Tad oozes his brains out all over the table.
“No thanks. Emma probably has something for us.” A nice hot bowl of hate. I swear that woman can stand me a little less every day. To think what she would do if she knew I was in her son’s bedroom night after night fucking his brains out.
“Skyla”—Mom comes in close with Misty in tow—“you’ve been spending an awful lot of time at the Oliver’s house. Are you sure you’re not overstaying your welcome?” Her brows knit together as if this is a real concern.
Please, with all the people taking up residence here, I’m surprised Tad hasn’t handwritten me a thank you yet.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Emma hasn’t said a word.” Because she’s too busy giving me the cold shoulder. I crimp a smile.
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Tad squawks. “She and that linebacker cost us fifty percent more in our grocery bill each month. With the two of them gone, we’re already slashing our expenses in half.”
“Don’t worry, Pops.” Drake strides in with his new bride, Bree. “I made some serious dough today.” He plunks down a wad of bills on the kitchen table, and everyone in the room gathers around to gawk at the pile of green like we’ve never seen it before—mostly because we haven’t.
“Holy shit!” Melissa barks. “Did you hold up a liquor store?”
Good God, that’s what it’s come to. All along we’ve been criminals in the making.
“I’d like to know the same thing.” I grip my chest. I’m sure just a small fraction of that can land Gage and me in a place of our own.
“Nah”—Drake scoops it back up and spreads it out, fann
ing himself with the loot—“I sold out. I’m no art dealer. Instead, I jumped on the T-shirt bandwagon, and before we knew it, we were doing the green lettuce cha ching.” He smacks Bree on the bottom.
“What kind of T-shirts?” Mom’s eyes round out like saucers. A bundle like that can buy a lot of baby shoes.
“I bet they were hemp.” Mia shoots me a knowing look.
“Nope.” Brielle chimes in gleefully. “Just some cheapies we bought at the dollar store. Drake had the genius idea to write Made in Paragon on them and voila!”
“Made in Paragon?” I’m stumped. “But they weren’t made in Paragon.”
Drake shakes his head. “Where do you think I wrote that shit? Besides, I looked it up. According to international trade laws, only part of it has to be manufactured here.” He plucks at something hanging from his back pocket and dangles a shirt in front of us. It’s a plain white T with the logo Made in Paragon on the lower left, and the outline of a bird in flight just above the P. “There’s that damn crow that keeps shitting on my head.” Drake points at the glorified letter M. “I thought that added a little something extra to it.”
Yeah like a liability suit—never mind the fact it’s not a crow, it’s a raven. Besides, I don’t bother telling the two of them that a store on the mainland has a logo that looks just like that, albeit with a seagull.
“Good work.” I’m just about to corner Mia when a car comes screeching up the driveway, blaring its horn.
“For cripes sake, what now?” Tad springs up, and the entire lot of us are quick to follow him out the door.
“Skyla, would you mind?” Mom hands me Misty while picking up her newest edition from the playpen—Ember, with her pale eyes, her mesmerizing dark hair. I can’t believe Em just dumped her with my mother. Even if it was my idea—it was a lousy one.
We head out into the frigid air. The rain has just stopped and washed the landscape clean of any fog.
Ethan sits on the hood of that souped-up muscle car he’s been nursing back to health from the salvage yard last summer.
“What do you think?” He holds out his hands like a douche.
“Did you put gas in it?” Tad walks around inspecting for dents.
“Nope, got a paint job.”
Crap. Ethan must be colorblind because it’s the exact shade of grey it was this morning. Figures—one Landon brings home federally issued lettuce, and the other Landon is one sandwich short of a picnic.
“It’s the same color, you numb-nut.” Drake is quick to point out.
Wow. Who knew Drake would turn out to be the brains of this disorganization? Baby Beau waddles out, and Drake scoops him up. Something in the act endears me to my stepbrother.
I bet Gage will hold our baby all the time. I melt straight down to my bones just envisioning Gage holding an entire gaggle of children. I thought, after watching Emily give birth, I’d never be open to the idea, but, now, I want an entire herd of kids with Gage. Bring on the head spinning and projectile vomiting because Gage Oliver and I are going to make some seriously beautiful babies one day.
Misty touches my neck and takes a fistful of flesh in her hand.
“Ouch. No, no, no.” I try to carefully pry her fingers off, but she’s got a death grip on me.
“It glows in the dark.” Ethan slaps the car as if it were brilliant.
“Well it’s dark and its not glowing.” Melissa points out.
“That’s because we need the sun to power it up.”
Again. Stuck on stupid.
“It’s never sunny on Paragon.” Mia cries out as if her sanity just flew from her skull like a bat in flight.
“That’s why I got a solar lamp, you moron.” He circles around the car and pulls out an industrial-sized sunlamp from the back, large enough to flood any football stadium with its artificial rays.
Tad starts in on a tirade about the cost of electricity, and who knows what else, but I can’t focus on his bitching because Misty is looking right into my eyes, and a vision starts to form. She’s imparting it to me just the way Gage does. It’s Demetri’s ugly mug—he’s cooing at her. Poor thing is reliving a nightmare. How’s daddy’s little princess? I’ve have big plans for you, my love. Ask me for anything—up to half my kingdom—I will lay it at your feet.
Crap!
I hand her back to Mom like a hot potato.
Gage pulls up to the base of the driveway. I snatch up my overnight bag and run on down.
I push all thoughts of Demetri and his horrifying grimace out of my mind—but he keeps floating back to the surface like an oil stain.
Dear God, it can’t be true.
All the way to the Oliver house, I ruminate over the fact I still need to talk to Ezrina about a strategy that will enable Gage to live to his full potential. The Tenebrous Woods flash through my mind.
“You know, we should probably have Ezrina help us formulate a plan to start siphoning people out of those tunnels.”
“I agree. We should get a head count so we know what we’re up against,” he says, parking high up on the driveway. Gage comes over to my side and helps me out while carrying my oversized duffle bag. “I looked all up and down Paragon for a decent apartment earlier, and there’s nothing we can afford.” Gage looks genuinely beaten down, but something about that far away look in his eye tells me it has nothing to do with our sudden housing crisis.
“Something will come up.” I tighten my arm around him. “People don’t live with their parents forever. Besides, I’ve got something that might cheer you up.” I cinch a private smile because I happen to know for a fact I planted my old cheer uniform in that duffle bag. I plan on cheering him up in private later. Who needs sexy underwear at forty bucks a pop from The Naughty Hawty when I’ve got a little something from West Paragon that will never stop entertaining my man?
Gage leans in before opening the door. A pained look sweeps across his face. “I love you, Skyla.”
“I love you.” We share a simple kiss just as the door swings open.
“You’re back late.” Emma’s face catches the shadows in all the wrong places, making her look like a creature from the pit of—well, being she’s my mother-in-law, I’ll defer from the reference. “You’ve missed dinner and dessert.”
I give Gage the once over. She wishes. Gage is still the best dessert in town.
“Sorry, Mom. I’ll give you a call next time.” Gage closes his eyes a moment as if life just kicked the shit out of him one last time. “I’d better get to bed. I’m beat.”
Emma takes a breath. I can tell she’s just getting started.
“Um, I have to get up early tomorrow,” I whisper. “I’ll just head up to Logan’s room. Goodnight.” I give Gage a little wink before trotting up the stairs. I plan on pulling my hair back in a ponytail and applying that garish red lipstick Chloe used to make us wear. I’m not about to let my new husband go to bed without a little loving tonight.
Emma’s voice picks up like a swarm of bees just as I hit the top of the stairs. She’s bitching full steam ahead, and I’ll bet it’s about me. I pause a second to listen in.
“I will not be disrespected in my own home,” she murmurs.
“Got it.” I hear Gage say.
“I will have none of that under my roof.”
My stomach sinks. Crap. She’s either onto us, or she’s making sure Gage keeps his hose away from the four-alarm fire in my pants.
“Under her roof,” I mutter on my way to Logan’s room. Maybe we’ll do it on the roof. God knows I’m in the mood for some hot roof sex with Gage. I give a little giggle. I plan of having him everywhere and anywhere. Sorry Emma. That boy is all mine.
I step into Logan’s bedroom and turn on the light. I lock the door and do a quick change into my cheer uniform. Fits like a glove. I tug the skirt down a bit and admire myself in the mirror. The sound of rumbling comes from the closet followed by a bang.
Crap. It’s probably Chloe. She’s going to totally take advantage of her newfound ability
to zap herself wherever the hell she wants. It would figure. In an effort to punish her, my mother outfitted the bitch with a ton of brand new superpowers.
A set of footsteps thump in my direction, and I stop breathing. My heart flutters a mile a minute as I look around for something to bury deep in Chloe’s skull. Or maybe it’s that pitiful douche that’s taking lessons on wickedness from her? Wes.
Him I’d like to just plain old bury.
The footsteps slow as they grow closer in proximity, and that brown bottle I once used to slice Logan’s face catches my attention. He kept the working end of it as a memento, and I’m quick to cradle it in my hand—shards facing out.
The closet door opens a few inches, and I gasp.
Here it is, my moment to carve Chloe like a pumpkin. But it’s not Chloe, and it’s definitely not the douche taking up residency in the Transfer.
He dips his chin with that sexier than hell smile. A hint of sadness flashes in those amber eyes. “You still trying to break that damn bottle?”
I can’t breathe. I can’t move. The universe just started up again like an old engine that conked out as far back as last December.
“Logan?” My heart drops straight through to middle earth. “What are you doing in your bedroom?”
“What are you doing in my bedroom?” His dimple lengthens parallel to his face. “Don’t answer that.” He makes his way over with a determined gait. “I left you in a bedroom. I think it’s fitting I find you in one.”
“Logan.” I wrap my arms around his familiar body. I bury my face in his chest and take in his heady scent—musk and spiced wood, a hint of lavender. He feels solid, and real, and in every way like his old self. “God, I’ve missed you.” I plant my lips over his T-shirt and linger before pulling away. “Thank you for coming back.” Tears fill my eyes, and my legs begin to tremble. It’s as if I’ve stepped into a dream, and I never want to wake up. “Tell me you’re here to stay.”