“Who else knows?” I might as well have asked who else do I have to kill?
His fingers flick to the sky. “No one. Dudley and Ezrina helped me crack the code on that ancient alphabet, but I transcribed the book myself. Before I pieced it all together, I took Logan and Skyla down to Tenebrous. We saw the pit, the portal straight to hell.” He shakes his head, his panting fills the silence as he gently removes my hands. “I’m no fool, Gage. I knew your initial reaction would be to send me off for one long dirt nap. Your hands are already covered with blood. My blood would make no difference to you. But it wouldn’t behoove you to think about it. I’ve put a few things in place. If I die, everyone knows. Logan and Skyla first, then your parents, every Faction leader on the planet, and then finally the Faction members themselves. If you incapacitate me in any manner, your world will tip over slowly like a row of unsteady dominoes.”
The rain picks up and needles me with its intrusion as if trying to wake me from this dream I’ve come to hate.
“What do you want?” A thousand scenarios run through my mind at once. Skyla and Logan. The weeping, the gnashing of teeth. Skyla would never damn Dudley. She would never damn me. All of my villainous ways would be washed clean under the banner of our love. She would understand. The ruse of my marriage to Chloe quickly uncovered. There would be far more chaos than there is now. I don’t doubt it for a minute.
Coop takes a deep breath, his features softening as the rain eases up. “If you were me, what would your answer be?”
“Laken.” I close my eyes a moment. Yes, in every way Coop is my twin born of misery. Wes and his obsession with the girl bounce through my mind. “There’s no way Wes will ever—”
Coop’s hand closes around my neck as he gives me a rattle before pushing me away. “There is a way and you will find it,” he bears the words through clenched teeth. “You will land Laken back at my feet, back in my bed where she truly belongs. You and I both know that’s not with Wes.” His body shakes as he struggles to maintain his composure. “Now”—he takes a breath and straightens, his eyes set in the distance a moment—“I think I’ve just scored an invite to that dinner tomorrow night. Wherever Laken goes, there I will be. And you will move heaven and earth to reunite us sooner than later. This is happening, Gage. You might not get Skyla on this planet—and I understand why. She’s not dumping Dudley in that molten pit either. You pissed her off good because you want her to fight for her people. It would go against her nature not to, and for you she volunteered to roll over. But you don’t want a fair fight, because you’ve already proven you’re willing to play dirty to get what you want. No, you need her to lose, and that’s just the way it’s going to have to go. It’s a shitty deal. I get it.
“But as for me—if Laken is there, I’m there. I’m your new shadow. You are looking at your new best friend. This farce you are running is only as good as me. Cooper Flanders. Noster. There’s a bit of irony in it. Don’t you think?” He starts to back away. “And as far as that vise Demetri set your balls in”—he shakes his head to the skies—“heaven help you, because I sure as hell can’t.”
Coop disappears back into the house, the exuberant voices, the screeching laughter escaping as he opens and closes the door.
Hell on earth. Coop knows. If anything happens to Cooper—if my brother happens to Cooper, he will land us all in a bigger pile of shit than we’re already standing in.
I say goodnight to my parents and take Chloe home to our new home—the very home Skyla and I worked so hard to bring back from the dead. Chloe lies next to me in our bed—the bed Skyla and I shared the night before my life ended. And I truly do view it that way in every sense. Chloe stays on her side and I stay on mine. She’s tried to fumble her way toward me, wrap her limbs around me like a vine, but I threatened her with a growl and she has given me space.
Chloe has promised me all the time in the world to get where we need to be. Little does she know there isn’t enough time left on the human clock to do so.
Slowly, almost impossibly, I fall asleep despite Chloe’s endless chatter about our baby, the angel knitting itself in her womb that is part her and part me.
Unbeknownst to her, that child will share the same father as October. They will be full-blooded siblings in every way with the exception of their knowledge of the fact.
No, to the world that child will be mine, just like Nathan, just like Barron. No one must ever know.
It’s a dangerous game when secrets should be taken to the grave, and there are one too many unreliable players.
Yes, it is a miracle I fall asleep at all.
I dream of Skyla. Of the two of us in the butterfly room above our old bedroom in the Landon house. How I regarded that house as a living hell for all those years we were trapped within the confines of its walls, and now looking back it brings the sweetest memories. If you were to mine my life for riches, all of the gold would be buried within those crooked walls. What a sweet and precious time we shared.
Skyla kisses me as the butterflies dance around us. Her mouth is cool and tastes as sweet as strawberries. I take in the vanilla scent of her hair and it overpowers me. She lays me down, hovering over me, her bare flesh glowing blue in the incandescent light.
“I’m going to love you, Gage. Now and forever. I’m going to worship you, until the day I die.” Her kisses stream down from my mouth, down my torso, hot as molten iron, and I moan through the burn. She cruises lower to the base of my hips and her mouth wraps itself around that most happy-to-see-her appendage. Skyla rides me with her mouth, thrusting me down her throat with an abject violence.
She is proving a point, writing a poem over my flesh with her lips. My insides tense into a steel knot, so achingly hard I let out a roar as I hit my zenith. My entire body convulses into her and she drinks me down, every last sip.
My eyes blink wildly as I pant myself back to life. The butterfly room and all of its magic is gone. The scant light of the room reveals Chloe sitting at my knees, a wicked gleam in her eyes because she took me, caught me off guard and sucked me dry.
“Shit.” I get up and hit the shower, frustrated ten times more than I was before I ever hit the sheets. So what, Chloe took me with her mouth. It’s over. It meant nothing to begin with. I scald myself for what feels like an hour, turning off the water and letting the steam soak into my lungs. I’ll do separate bedrooms—a lock on the freaking door. It will never happen again. Little does she know that’s all the action she has ever and will ever get from me. Chloe has had me exactly twice now. The first time I was dead and decapitated, the second unconscious. That about sums up our fairytale.
You’re welcome, Chloe.
Remember it, because you’re not getting another hit.
I open the shower door and the wind gets knocked out of me.
“Skyla?” I whisper, stunned, as she sits up on the counter, her hair rising from the humidity, skin glistening. Her eyes are bright and clear, and she’s biting down on a nervous smile the way I’ve seen her do a million times.
She shakes her head. A pitiful look in her eyes is in stark contrast to that grin expanding on her lips. Her arms wrap themselves around my neck as she pulls me in close, and I don’t fight it. She lands a careful kiss to my lips, and it feels like magic, like the medicine I so desperately need to get me through this hell.
“I’m not Skyla. I’m her sister, Rory.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m here to worship you.” Her finger glides straight down my chest. “My precious, precious king.”
7
Logan
Christmas with Skyla. I need no other gift. But at this point I feel more like a stalker, a voyeur into her world—a world which she might just wish to give me the boot from. We haven’t spoken much since that infamous night, the night that Gage entered into an abomination of a union with the devil herself. I can’t blame Skyla for unraveling. I certainly can’t blame Skyla for wanting revenge. But I wish to God she’d open up to me. L
et me help her. Let me be the shoulder to lean on. I want to wipe away her tears. I want her to wipe away mine.
The Landon house, despite its many occupants, and some of those I could do without, holds very real memories for me. My memories of this place are vastly different from those that Skyla holds. Without asking, I’m sure that if given a choice she would burn this place to the ground and curse its ashes.
Gage Oliver had done this to her. Turned all of the good they had, they could still have had, and threw it into the shitter. For what, I may never know. Demetri owns him now. It is worse than grieving a dead man to see him resurrected and completely unknowable to me anymore. And worse than that, there is no disease, no brain tumor, no mental decomposition we can look to for answers. He is whole and aware, and ironically perfectly screwed up. It’s a mind-bender. At this point in time, my questions have questions. He is flying his lunacy high like a kite, waving it in our faces, making us smell his shit. How impenetrable he’s become, irretrievable. I simply don’t understand any part of him. But I understand Skyla. And I most certainly understand her pain. I want to help her. I just need for her to allow that to happen.
Mia lets me in and both Nathan and Barron run over, happy to see me, their dimples going off like flashing lights. Their husky laughter guts me. They are the exact representation of their father. No sign of Skyla in sight in either one of them, and I mourn that fact a little.
I chase the boys into the family room much to their giggling delight, and Bree pegs me in the head with a wad of wrapping paper.
“Merry Christmas, Oliver.”
“Merry Christmas to all,” I say and the rest of the room chants the holiday greeting albeit without as much vigor.
Em and Bree corner me a moment while Drake and Ethan sock the crap out of one another over a fouled move on the video game they’re playing.
Emily grunts as she rubs her belly. She could easily have an entire litter of babies in her overgrown stomach. “West is having a fundraiser to buy smart boards.”
“Great.” I nod as thoughts of West Paragon High come crashing back and I mourn Gage all over again. If I think about it long enough, it truly feels like a blink of an eye that we were there—that Skyla walked into the bowling alley for the very first time. What in the hell happened? “I can donate a few free passes to the bowling alley and the gym.”
Bree offers a silent applause. “That’s all fine and dandy, but they need bodies. Tickets are one hundred dollars a person, and you need to be there.”
“Be there? Be where?” That all too familiar knot that lived in my stomach the entire time I was a student at that institute has decided to make a reprisal.
“Prom.” Em gets right to the nitty gritty, and it’s something I’ve always appreciated about her. “It’s on Valentine’s Day. But they’re calling it the Comeback Prom, open to alumni.”
“Great, we qualify.” I’m not really sure it’s all that great, but it’s happening. For a second, I envision Skyla in a hot dress, that smoking body pressed to mine. I approve. Gage and Chloe will be there, no doubt. Where there is potential for drama, you can rest assured Chloe is driving the bandwagon.
Bree leans in, her mouth agape. “Do you think you’ll take Skyla?”
“Hell yes, I’m taking Skyla.” As in transporting her. Just as I’m about to do now.
“Ah-ha!” Tad limps over. Mr. Gimpy, Mr. Grumpy, Mr. Five Figure Lotto Winner with his ever questionably faithful Lizbeth by his side. “You think you’re just going to step right in, doncha? Park your rear right in front of my refrigerator, ain’t that right? The Oliver baton was passed to you, and now you’re taking Skyla and all the Landon spoils that come along with her. Well, let me tell you, Loki”—Tad wags his finger in my face while Drake and Ethan howl with laughter at the moniker I’ve been gifted—“this is not freeloader central. Tad Landon does not run a charity. There is no sign out front that reads Come one Oliver, come all, and bring your greedy, needy appetite. Bring me your weary sweatpants wearing, jobless Emma Oliver discards. When you are under my roof, you are under my dictatorship.”
Em groans, “You got that right.”
“Tad, please.” Lizbeth does her best to pull him away, but he breaks free from her stranglehold.
Tad waddles in close until his face is inches from mine. “Like it or not, I’m the man around here. I’m a homeowner who happens to have five big ones in my bank account. I’ve got a sedan, a wife, and thirteen mouths that depend on me for survival. I’m the fifty thousand dollar man. What do you got, buddy? Nothin’! Hasta mañana.” He lifts his chubby fingers to his cheek and waves.
“What do I got?” I fold my arms across my chest. “I’ve got a house that sits on Silent Cove worth just under two million. A bowling alley, gym, and a bona fide working farm—all three generate a total income of over a million a year. And if I sold the land, I could probably get three. So I guess that makes me the five million dollar man.”
Tad straightens as if he were having a heart malfunction. His face smooths out with surprise.
“And by the way”—I lean in, stern as hell—“my name is Logan. I’m here to pick up Skyla and the boys. That’s it. I’m not eating your food, using your electricity, or flushing your toilet. If you ever call me Loki again, I’m going to put you through a wall. Gage may have tolerated your extracurricular bull, but I’m not having it.”
“Skyla!” Tad thunders as he staggers past me. “A fine young man is wasting his valuable time waiting for you. Get the rug rats together. The three of you are going on a date!”
Skyla bounds into the room, hair in perfect golden ringlets, tight red sweater, black velvet jeans, and silver heels.
“Stunning.” It’s all I can say.
“You treat this young man with respect,” Tad growls at her and she lifts a hand dismissively as Lizbeth helps bundle the boys up. “If you play your cards right, you could end up Mrs. Skyla Oliver!”
Both Skyla and I roll our eyes, pick up a boy, and head on out.
We step out into the fog thick as pea soup.
“You look beautiful.” I pull her in and land a kiss to her cheek. “Merry Christmas.”
“And you look like a fine young man. Should I ask what that was about?”
“No. Do you want to go to prom with me? West is having a thing in a couple of months.”
“Prom at West with Logan Oliver?” A dark growl of a laugh comes from her as we head to the truck. “Only if you promise to pick me up in the Mustang.”
“Consider it done.”
And just like that, we buckle up the boys and take off for what I’m hoping won’t be the second shit show of the night. Something tells me Gage had procured the ability to top any of the crap Tad is capable of in spades.
Barron and Emma’s house is festooned with a holiday light display that usually puts the rest of the neighborhood to shame, but it just so happens that the house next door to the Harrisons’ is decking the halls at a bit more velocity than Barron and Emma can ever hope to achieve.
“You like?” Wes shouts with a jovial note in his voice as he and Laken usher a bundled Tobie and Charlie from across the street. Wes bought the house and quickly moved his brood into it.
“There goes the neighborhood,” Skyla says, unleashing Nathan and Barron from their car seats, and they spring to the front door, shouting for Ga-ma. Tobie races past us, shouting the same. I’m sure Emma doesn’t mind. Especially since Tobie’s brother, Eli, has been living there for the last four months. “But I like Laken,” Skyla says, heading over and giving her friend a gentle embrace before ogling at the princess in her arms. “I like Charlie and Tobie, too. I just don’t like you, Wes.” Skyla offers a dry smile as we make our way to the door.
Laken shakes her head at Skyla. “If at any point you want to leave, I’ll take you across the street and show you the house. Wes has spared no expense.”
“Everything has its price, Laken. Believe me when I say you’re the one paying.”
; The door swings open as Barron greets Wes and Laken first. I turn back to find Skyla lifting a finger in the air, and sure enough Holden and his newfound feathered wife are floating up above.
“Skyla”—I pull her in and it takes a moment for her to look into my eyes—“I’m here for you, too.” My heart slams against my chest just holding her close like this. It was last spring that I openly declared my love for her once again, and it’s only grown from there.
“I know.” She lifts our conjoined hands for a moment, and I inch back a notch. It’s never me that forgets we’re telepathic, and yet this time it was indeed. “I love you too, Logan. I have always loved you.” She shakes her head as if it wasn’t true on some level. “And when the time is right, I’m going to give you all of me.” Her mouth falls open as she looks to my lips as if they were her favorite snack and she was feeling mighty hungry. “But first, you will have my body,” she says it like a fact. “I can’t let sex stand in the way of my sanity anymore, and Dudley won’t have me.” She shrugs. “But you will have me and all of me will follow soon enough.” She speeds inside and I wonder what in the hell just happened.
“You coming in?” A deep voice belts out.
I look to find Gage at the door and my blood runs cold.
“Merry Christmas,” I say as we head inside and spot Chloe with her feet propped up in the living room, Michelle Miller—Oliver seated by her side fanning her. Skyla and Laken are clear on the other side of the room and I can feel Skyla’s tension from here. “Dude, you are an exceptional asshole, you know that?”
“I try. And believe me when I say, I’m putting a concerted effort into it.”
My gaze hooks to his. “You don’t have to try so hard. I get it. You are pushing her away. Mission completed. No reason to eviscerate her, too.” I spot Coop speaking with Liam and wince. “It’s bad enough tonight has to suck for Skyla, what’s Flanders doing here?”
All Hail the King (Celestra Forever After Book 6) Page 13
