I sneak in one last kiss and try to pull it out for weeks.
Gage
Logan comes home well after one in the morning with that how-in-the-fuck-did-I-not-get-laid look on his face, and I hold back a laugh.
“I fold.” I toss the cards on the kitchen table, inspiring Ellis to pick them up and check out my hand.
“Dude, you have full house,” he shouts.
“Keep it down. My parents are sleeping.”
Ellis has no control over the decibel level of his voice after a few beers and who knows whatever the hell else he’s got coursing through his veins.
Logan takes a seat next to us and mopes.
“How’d it go?” I sweep up the cards and shuffle them back into the deck.
“It went.” He slouches into table, dejected from the lack of carnal attention he received. “I don’t get it. Her parents aren’t home, and I offered to spend the night.” He winces over at me. “On the couch—alone.”
“Dude.” Ellis leans in with his hair sticking up and his eyes half closed, although that’s panning out to be a permanent look for him. “Gage and I will go over and scare the shit out of her. She’ll be warming a spot for you in her bed in less than fifteen.”
“Right,” I huff. Like I’d land Logan on her mattress while there’s still air pumping through my lungs.
“I’ll pass.” Logan snatches the cards from me and begins to shuffle. “I’m not ready yet, anyway.”
“What do you mean you’re not ready?” Ellis scoffs at Logan’s testosterone-deficient declaration. “I’m always ready.” He pulls something from his back pocket and deposits the neat little square of a condom on the table.
“No, thanks.” Logan slides it back without blinking.
“Oh, I get it.” Ellis shakes his head at the idea. “You need the super-max size—big enough to house a dick the size of a rocket ship, huh?” He plucks three more tiny foil packages from his jeans and lays them on the table. “Here—I got your Dr. Feelgood,” he says, holding up a red packet. “Burns for days, but it makes the girls cry—in a good way. Then I got your glow-in-the-dark with double-prong feelers.” He waves a lime green square at us like a threat.
“What in the hell are feelers?” Logan takes the package from him. “Not that I really want to know.” He flicks it to the wall, and Ellis falls off the chair trying to retrieve it.
Logan and I spear each other with a look of discontent.
He said he wasn’t ready—yet.
I think it’s time to make my move with Skyla before Logan discovers he’s more than ready and willing to take that next step with her.
Ellis pops up from under the table with the rubber in hand and kisses the damn thing like it was a girl.
Maybe a condom full of feelers is all Ellis needs to keep him satisfied.
Not me.
I need Skyla, pure and simple.
***
Upstairs in my bedroom, long after Logan and I helped Ellis across the street, I thumb through my journal with a pen in hand. Another poem is ready to vomit out of me. I can feel it.
There’s a gentle knock at the door, followed by Logan walking right in.
“Saw your light on. Still up, huh?”
“You always were the bright one,” I say, discretely slipping my notebook under my pillow. He follows my hand with his eyes and doesn’t say a word.
“Look, I’m not telling you what to do.” He leans against my desk as his voice drops down to its paternal register. “I know feelings aren’t like a faucet. You don’t turn them on and off at will. But I’ll be honest with you. Tonight, she said she wanted a relationship.” His forehead wrinkles. “We got pretty close.”
My heart drops clear to my feet—shreds all the way down with his razor-laced words.
“Good for you.” I push the words out with no real meaning behind them. My stomach lurches, and for a minute, I think I might be sick.
Logan blows out a hard breath. His body is wound tighter than a pressed coil, and I can tell he’s hurting for me. “Just”—he spits it out in frustration—“steer clear so you don’t end up with a broken heart or worse.”
“What the hell does that mean? Are you going to bust my kneecaps if I don’t obey? Snap my arm in half if I offer a slow blink in her direction?”
“I wouldn’t even think of doing that, and you know it.” His Adam’s apple rises and falls as he swallows. “It’s just”—he washes over the floor with his gaze—“I’m not sure I’m making any promises to you, that’s all.”
The stale sound of silence thickens the air.
“So what you’re saying is, if a condom happens to fall out of your pocket, and you need it, you might employ its services.” I say it flat, folding my hands together in an effort to keep from sending him flying through the second-story window.
“Something like that.” He heads for the door, scratching at the back of his neck.
“Logan?”
He turns just shy of leaving.
“If the shoe’s ever on the other foot,” I start. “You can be sure I won’t be keeping any promises to you, either.” I spear him with a look that could slice through his nut sack. “And I promise you, that day will come.” A satisfied smile twitches on my lips. “I won’t hold back and neither will she.”
Logan takes off and shuts the door behind him. I can feel his hostile footsteps vibrate down the hall as they evaporate to nothing.
The day will come when Skyla chooses me, but I feel like shit crushing Logan on the way to get there. I’m not sure I can blame him for feeling the way he does. Skyla is irresistible.
I tug my journal forward and my hand moves across the page as if it were possessed, as if I could somehow conjure up Sklya herself in the process.
Irresistible
Pale white shoulders,
mouth of fire.
This grievous hallucination,
is my one desire.
11
Logan
Love Hurts
The island glows like a lavender star as the fog plumes in a brilliant display of luminescence. Brielle texted this morning and said there would be a “massive fucking party at Skyla’s.” I called Skyla to confirm, and indeed, there is a massive party taking place, so Gage and I decided to check it out before heading to the faction meeting.
Cars are parked in a zigzag formation up and down the street. Brielle’s driveway is full and so is her lawn. It’s nice to see she’s helping with accommodations.
We double park in the street and head up to the house.
Ellis is out front with the requisite stoner circle. He doesn’t frequent too many parties beyond his own get-togethers and when he does, it usually means he’s crushing on someone outside his ecosystem. With my luck, that person just might be Skyla.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Gage whispers as we pass them up.
“Harrison?”
“Yup.”
Gage and I have always been that way—same thoughts, same page on just about everything, so I don’t know why it’s such a shock that Skyla has unwittingly grabbed us both by the balls. Gage was always waiting for Mrs. Right, while I was pretty good at keeping myself busy with Mrs. Right Now.
The house is dark inside, with bodies lining the entry and halls. The faint smell of booze lights up the air, probably Brielle’s contribution. It’s strange seeing people here at Chloe’s—not that it’s Chloe’s anymore. It’s Skyla’s house, and Skyla is definitely the polar opposite of Chloe Bishop.
“Logan.”
The faint call of my name warbles through the walls, through my bones, sending an icy chill up my spine. I turn to find Skyla jumping into my arms.
“Whoa.” I sail toward the wall with her wrapped in my arms. She melts a kiss over my lips and sends all thoughts of Chloe bulleting out the door. Skyla picks up my hands and intertwines our fingers. It feels good like this, kissing her in front of everyone I know on the island, her body next to mine—it makes me feel complete.
br />
She pulls away from our magnetic liplock and squeals, motioning over to a bunch of camping lanterns sprinkled around the downstairs.
“Everything looks so cool!” She yells with a touch of mock enthusiasm before dropping my hands like they were on fire.
“So maybe after the meeting, Gage and I will drop by again.” I wrap an arm around her shoulder, sending a signal to all the guys ogling her that she’s taken—that she’s all mine.
Gage bows his head and maneuvers deeper into the living room.
Crap. The last thing I want to do is rub salt in the Skyla-shaped wound in his heart.
A throng of bodies sail through the doors, and in minutes, it’s wall-to-wall people.
“So how come Brielle spent the night?” I drop a kiss on the top of her head. Skyla’s probably lucky I didn’t sleep over. There’s no way I could have kept my promise to stay put on the couch.
“I got scared.” She pulls her lips in a line like there’s something more, but she’s not willing to share.
“You should have called me.” I whisper it directly into her ear with all the sexual intent I can afford. Skyla and I bump and grind our way through the crowd until she’s pressed to the wall and our lips find one another. She relaxes beneath me with her body forging into mine, and yet, oddly, her mind seems to be playing the same scrambling game it was last night. I swear, it’s like Gage has given her pointers on how to sidestep our extraterrestrial communication methods—not that I’m an open vessel at the moment. Even so, she’s doing a lousy job at keeping her mental silence at bay. Every third thought lobs itself in my direction, disjointed and jagged, like looking through a broken mirror.
I pull back and examine her—Skyla with her wicked beauty, doing her best to keep secrets from me, which, in turn, is exactly what I’m doing to her.
“What?” She gives a devious grin. “I can’t enjoy the fruit of your lips?”
I give a little laugh.
“Logan.”
There it is again. It’s coming from the family room. If I didn’t know better I’d swear is sounded like Chloe.
A horrible feeling grips me. A palpable evil penetrates the air, as if the Counts themselves have infiltrated the area.
“What’s wrong?” She squeezes my hand. Maybe he detects something or someone left over from the night before.
“What happened last night?” I take Skyla in with her bubbling concern. Her lower lip trembles as if she’s too worked up to tell me.
“Nothing. A branch fell down and hit the window. I freaked out.”
I give a wry smile. Nice try, but I’m not buying it. I’d hate to accuse Skyla of lying to me, but if the half-truth fits.
“Logan…”
My name echoes through the skeleton of the old Bishop house with a haunting reverberation. I’d say something to Skyla, but I’m pretty damn sure I’m the only one picking up on it.
“There’s something else,” I say, weaving us through the masses and leading her into the kitchen. It was coming from in here. I can feel it.
A shadow outside the back door twitches, and I pause for a moment.
The silhouette of a girl frames the window, and my heart starts slamming against my chest. I’ve seen that shapely form, held it before. An icy chill rides up my spine as I reach for the door.
Skyla ducks behind me and latches onto my waist. I don’t like seeing her afraid, and I don’t like that she was afraid last night while I wasn’t here to protect her. I shouldn’t have asked—I should’ve just stayed.
The doorknob twists in my hand and the cool night air filters in, revealing Michelle clotting up the tiny porch, with a cigarette dangling from her fingers. I offer a brief nod to Lexy and Emily seated beside her and step back in.
A part of me wants to warn Skyla about going outside alone at night—to tell her that there are creatures who live among the Nephilim that don’t reside around most people in this world. But now that she’s a potential Celestra, these creatures might find her, and they’ll be a hell of a lot scarier than a branch scraping against the window or Miller working on her carcinoma.
“What did you think you were going to see?” She says it slow and measured, as if she knows.
“Something evil.” I wrap my arms around her waist, more than thankful Chloe was nowhere to be found. Still, I would bet my left nut it was her voice calling out my name.
“Looks like you were right.” Skyla’s lips curve in a devilish smile as she glances back over at Michelle.
“Looks like I was.” I brush my lips over the top of her head in lieu of a laugh. But something in me stirs, and I can’t shake this feeling. “I didn’t want to tell you this last night, but Chloe thought this place was haunted.” And what the fuck made me say that? Then again, the bulge growing in my jeans offers me a clue.
She freezes solid, her eyes as blank as a doll’s.
“I can spend the night if you like,” I offer. Maybe Ellis is onto something after all.
She averts her eyes. I question if he’s telling the truth or utilizing scare tactics to his advantage.
That last thought comes in loud and clear.
I press out a depleted smile. I guess Chloe’s haunting season isn’t scoring me points in the bedroom.
“That’s okay. I have Bree.” Her lips twitch, still curious to know whether I’m playing the part of hero or conman—maybe both.
That’s what I get for employing any of Harrison’s idiotic ideas.
“I’ll stop by after the meeting, anyway.” Besides, there’s something I want to show you that you may not have discovered about the house. I brush my thumb over the inside of her palm, and her eyelids flutter with pleasure.
“That it grows eight furry legs at night, and it’s really a tarantula?”
I hadn’t entertained that theory, but I’m slow to take it off the table.
A slap ignites over my shoulder as Gage crops up next to me.
“Time.” His dimples dig in as he locks those baby blues on Skyla.
“All right.” I slip my fingers over hers and walk us back to the entry. “Expect me after midnight.” I can’t imagine why she felt the need to barricade me from her thoughts tonight. Although, if it’s good enough for me, I guess it’s good enough for her. I want to say, I’m sorry, Skyla Messenger. I don’t want to hide a thing from you. I swear I would die to protect you, but it’s the wrong venue. And with Gage watching my every move like a bouncer, it wouldn’t feel right.
Instead, I land a sweet kiss on her forehead and follow Gage into the cool, damp night.
It’s time to face the faction and see what in the hell the Counts might want with the latest and greatest object of my affection.
Gage glances back at the house, with his blue sirens burning through the night in hope of one last glimpse of Skyla.
He’s making it pretty clear she’s his latest and greatest obsession, too.
Gage drags himself to the truck with his shoulders sagging, his gaze stuck to the concrete like he’s just lost a war.
Right about now, I’m hating myself just a little more than I’m hating the Counts.
I wish I could fix this for Gage. I wish I could duplicate Skyla, but I can’t.
I’ll just have to keep Skyla and Gage away from one another to make sure no unnecessary sparks go off.
Gage might have destiny on his side, but I’m not going down without a fight.
Gage
Logan and I drive down dark stretches of Paragon highway through vats of low-lying fog that rises like ghosts to greet us.
To say there’s weirdness between us would be understating the obvious by a mile. A wall of distrust has erected itself. This is nothing but a breech of loyalty where the girl of my dreams is concerned—and apparently his, too.
I tried to play it cool. Hell, I didn’t even say hello to Skyla tonight. And honestly, that’s because I was half-afraid she wouldn’t know who I was. Instead, I clung to the walls and watched like a jackass as Logan sprayed her
down with kisses. The sight of his hands swiveling up and down her T-shirt hurt like hell to witness.
“She’s up to something.” Logan gravels it out as he squints into the windshield. “She was trying to hide her thoughts.”
“Dissention, so soon?” Nothing pleases me more. Hell, maybe I’m what she’s up to. Maybe I’m the reason Skyla felt the need to erect the mental armor. Although, it’s probably just wishful thinking on my part. I saw the way she looked at him, the way her lips found his whenever they had the chance. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t damn jealous. My insides boil just thinking about it. “You think she’ll try coming to the faction meeting?” Skyla’s got a feisty side. She said herself that she wanted in on the meeting.
“No—she won’t show.” Logan twitches his hand over the wheel. “She doesn’t know the island well enough, and she can’t drive. Besides, she’s got half of Paragon at her house doing shots off the kitchen counter. She’s got her hands full for the next few hours.” He sinks in his seat, uneasy. “She mentioned something about Chloe the other night. She said she came to her in a dream.”
“Chloe, huh?” It’s strange how she’s seeping back into our lives. I know her work on this planet isn’t finished. I also know she was pretty threatened by Skyla before she ever passed away. That’s exactly why traveling into the future is a shitty idea. Chloe had her jealousy all riled up once she saw a gorgeous blonde taking up residence in her bedroom. “What’s the matter? Afraid she’s sabotaging your relationship from the great beyond?” I’d like to thank her personally if that were the case.
“Chloe never cared that much about me. The Counts, however—they can do anything. The can get a Fem to morph into Chloe and brainwash Skyla into thinking we’re the enemy.”
A dull laugh rattles through me. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we were.” I stare out the window as my smile dissipates. The way those fragments of the future have been coming at me, you’d think both Logan and I were capable of sinister deeds that far outweigh anything the Counts could ever do.