All Hail the King (Celestra Forever After Book 6)

by Addison Moore

  “Come on. We both know I was testing out your mad telepathy skills.” His hands heat my back and my skin drinks it in as if it were an elixir.

  “And, unfortunately, I’ve got them,” I tease as my eyes lock over those fiery amber eyes. How I’ve missed Logan. “You know, even in the midst of all that chaos, the Counts trying to kill me, kill us, us killing Counts and inadvertently killing ourselves—things always feel easy with you. How is that possible?”

  His lips purse as if he were considering it, but his eyes never leave mine. “Because you’re my soulmate, Skyla.” His chest depresses as he exhales as if he just delivered the worst news possible. “Our souls were knit together. You are my person. You are the only one my heart has ever truly desired.” He squints out a sad smile with his eyes, a neat trick, and it breaks my heart. “We were meant for one another.” He lifts my hand and lands a soft kiss onto my barren ring finger, his gaze still pinned to mine as if he were gauging me for my reaction.

  The chill in the room finally affects me, and I take in a ragged breath. “Can I kiss you?” The words felt innocent coming from my lips, like that of a preteen talking to the high school star quarterback. That’s Logan and me in a nutshell right from the beginning.

  “No,” he whispers, wicked intent curving on his lips. “I’m going to kiss you.” Logan leans in and brushes his lips over mine, soft and careful, his mouth lingering slowly, and then I feel it, the soft unspooling of all of this anger, this rage and hatred, all of my worry, pain, and anxiety melting away as if I were falling into a strong safety net softening the blow of the enemy, cradling me in its—in his strong, warm arms.

  This kiss whispers, It will all work out in the end, every tear will be wiped away and you will have everything back, everyone back in your life once again. This horrible ache will not last. It cannot. I will not allow it.

  Logan tightens his arms around me, my own arms locked behind his neck as we indulge in something deeper, soul-to-soul, his breathing growing heavier to match my own.

  We pull back slowly, still drinking that kiss down deep in our bones, chaste, closemouthed, but even still one for the record books.

  “I love you, Logan Oliver.” It comes out a statement, because it has always been our truth.

  “I love you, too.” He blesses my lips with another quick peck. “You’d better hop in before you run out of hot water.” His eyes flit back to that shirt. “Do you see that?”

  I glance to Marshall’s dress shirt lying exposed and opened, Emily’s blood splattered over it as if it were Jackson Pollock’s latest and great—

  “Oh my God.” I take a step toward it, my breathing erratic, as I take it in. The background noise has faded away and I see the foreground for what it is. “It’s my face.” My fingers hover over my distressed features. “This is another one of Emily’s visions, painted in blood, just for me.”

  “This is you.” Logan traces over my face, my oddly shaped frame that I didn’t quite see until he pointed it out.

  “What am I doing? It looks as if I’ve fallen, I’m screaming.” Sounds about right. Every one of Emily’s premonitions leads to pain.

  “I hope not.” He leans in. “Because I’m willing to bet money, that’s me.”

  Sure enough, standing behind me is Logan, his eyes serious, the look on his face determined.

  “Whatever the nightmare is, we’re in it together.”

  Logan offers a crooked grin and makes the butterflies in my stomach come to life. A part of me despises those butterflies, because they affirm a weakness in me to make him mine. Hell, he is mine. He always has been.

  I take a quick shower, put on the clothes Laken dropped off, and Logan and I hear the crowd screaming “Happy New Year” just as we leave the pool house.

  “Happy New Year, Logan.” I dot his lips with a lingering kiss and he presses out that sad smile he’s known for.

  “Happy New Year, Skyla. I have a feeling it’s going to be a good one.”

  “It will. It can only get better from here.”

  When you hit rock bottom, the only place to go is up.

  New Year’s Day ushers in the wedding of the ages. The dawn of a whole new misery for all involved.

  Demetri’s house, his ridiculous castle, has always been more of a nuisance than a meager architectural structure. It is the exact representation of that haunted mansion in the Transfer, a somewhat copy of Wesley’s mansion, which is also in the Transfer, but his is by far bigger, and if memory serves correct, Gage’s monolithic city in his dominion shares somewhat of the same blueprint.

  The exterior of Demetri’s estate is festooned with ruby red roses, acres of the red petaled beasts as tight red buds. Fully opened blooms rope themselves around the pale white columns that adorn the outside of the mansion.

  Rain has come for the occasion. Large, fat hostile drops that cannot be stopped flood the streets and the pots that dot the front porch and have turned the driveway into a virtual waterfall.

  Gage may be willing to commit the darkest sin of all twice in my lifetime, but my mother isn’t giving them sunshine and rainbows to go along with it. Sure, rain is the order of the day on Paragon, but I’ve seen Demetri pull a blue sky out of his ass a time or two to know that he most likely tried and was shot down by the powers that be. That alone makes me love my celestial mother all the more.

  Logan leans in with little Barron sitting restless on his hip. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes.” I secure Nathan close to me as we make a mad dash for the entry.

  Inside, classical music plays lightly, and the air is scented with the fragrance of those ruby blooms because everywhere you look a beautiful red rose was forced to die for this madness. My stomach sours. I want nothing more than to run for the nearest bathroom and sit on the toilet for the next few hours, shaking and crying. But I did all that last night.

  Last night, I dreamed of Marshall. We talked of Paragon, the way things used to be, the former things that we both decided we liked better before my nocturnal wandering quickly turned triple X. And then the oddest thing occurred, embarrassing really—Logan Oliver joined in on the fun, and no, not in any good way. He put an abrupt end to my good time with the steamy Sector and took us to Pike’s Reef where there were miraculous blue skies and we watched rough waves move in and out over the sandy shoreline. We didn’t say anything. Logan had an arm wrapped around me, and both of our minds were on the fright we would have to witness today.

  “You interrupted my dream last night,” I say, pulling the coats off both the boys as a stream of people I don’t even recognize push past us. I catch a glimpse of the ballroom, and there are rows of white ladder-back chairs, an altar made of white braided wood stands proudly up front, and a cast of thousands is already present and seated, each of them dressed as if this were a black-tie affair, each of them deader than the next. I only see a few people I recognize, one of them being my mother who quickly makes her way over.

  Logan leans in. “I’m the man of your dreams, Skyla. Get it right.”

  My mouth falls open at the audacity, but before I can say anything, both my mother and Demetri are upon us.

  “He asked me to help.” My mother winces in her pretty peach gown, her hair pulled up, her makeup on point.

  Demetri looks his ornery self, wicked grin, lying laughing eyes, a tuxedo on as if he were the groom himself. And honestly, if this turned into some double—triple ceremony where he and my mother tied the knot as well, it wouldn’t surprise me because nothing in the universe is capable of surprising me anymore.

  “Skyla”—Demetri picks up both boys at once—“I commend you for not only extending your blessing, but gracing us with your presence.”

  “Yes, well, let’s be clear. I didn’t extend my blessing. This is clearly a curse. And I’m only here for the boys.”

  Demetri offers his best sorrowful expression, a performance clearly for my mother. “I’ll get the boys to their father in preparation for the ceremony.” H
e leans in. “My son’s coronation will be held in his dominion. Let me be the first to extend an invitation to you and your people. It would be best if we began mediation and talks of a peace treaty. If you bond with us, you will be protected. I can arrange for—”

  “Don’t arrange for anything.” A dull laugh bounces from me. “I will be where my boys are asked to be, and if that means watching all of wickedness gather to crown their father the king, then so be it. But my people will prevail, and this farce you’ve commandeered Gage into will come to an unpleasant end for the both of you.” I glance to my mother. “I’d think twice before latching onto this beast. He’s dangerous. He’s only out for himself. You are playing with fire. He wants to own you, make you his. He might be toying with you like a kitten with a ball of yarn, but he will morph into a lion soon enough and devour your happy marriage with Tad.” I look back to the devil before me. “How much patience you seem to have. How very kind of you to look the other way while the woman you love most beds a man who God Himself sees as her husband. But you don’t really like to share, now do you? It’s just a matter of time until you take her straight path and make it crooked enough to suit you.” I stare down my mother and that look of horror on her face. “He’s going to hurt Tad. I can guarantee you that. You’ll be a widow soon enough. Mark my words.”

  Demetri belts out a laugh just as Tad ambles up with a plate full of shellfish.

  “Heard my name.” He wiggles a shrimp at Logan and me. “Got the good eats here today.” He looks right at me. “Someone should have thought twice before letting the wealthy Oliver of the bunch cut loose with the cheerleader next door. Demetri just let me know his trust fund kicks in this afternoon!”

  I can’t help but avert my eyes. “What a miraculous wedding gift.”

  “It could have been yours, Skyla!” Tad riots. “And all you’re left with is a bowling alley and a room full of cribs.”

  Demetri clears his throat. “My son is willing to offer more than a livable wage in order to help you and the boys move into a larger place of your own.”

  “No thank you.” I’m quick to shoot down the demonic dollars.

  Tad gags, his face turning purple as a plum. “She’s delirious, Demetri! She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” He looks my way with a mouthful of bolus suddenly visible. “You don’t realize the value of a dollar. You think you’re going to be living off Big Daddy T’s big payday. Well, I’ve got news for you, Toots. After the television, the brand new teeth, the new hair, the attorney fees, I’ve got less than two grand left of my windfall.”

  Mom gasps and gags as if she just inhaled a shrimp herself. “Tad Landon! You mean—”

  “That’s right, Lizbeth. We’re broke as a joke.”

  Logan groans, “I hope you put a little away for the tax man.”

  “Tax man?” Tad balks. “Tell ’em to come and get it. You can’t squeeze blood from a turnip.”

  “Oh, they will squeeze.” I glare over at my mother. “Clearly, you have two men you need to get control over.”

  The boys start to kick and claw at Demetri and I’m silently cheering them on.

  “Mee-maw!” Nathan caws.

  “Tampon!” Barron howls.

  “I’d best get them to the back.” Demetri nods and takes off and the boys are suddenly calling out for me.

  Logan lands a simple kiss to my cheek. “Stay strong,” he says as he takes off after them. I asked him on the way over if he’d stay with the boys, and he assured me he wouldn’t leave their side. Obviously, being with their father is no great comfort to me anymore.

  Tad mumbles something about needing more food before lifting a finger. “You know, the night before I purchased my Wild Fifty Lotto ticket, I had a dream.”

  “Oh God.” My stomach rolls and I truly feel as if I might be sick if I’m forced to listen to Tad’s disorganized nightly wandering.

  “I dreamed of numbers!” he riots.

  Mom nods enthusiastically. “He dreamed of the numbers, Skyla. I think Tad has a gift.” She bops up and down as if they just won another monetary prize. “Tell her about the dream, Tad. Tell her!”

  “I was just getting to the good part.” He shoves a fistful of pink glossy shrimp slathered in cocktail sauce into his pie hole. “I dreamed numbers were chasing me right off this godforsaken island. And I woke up and wrote those beautiful numbers down and went straight to the nearest gas station and bought another ticket! The Big Ball drawing is in days and the pot is twice the amount as the Wild Fifty.”

  Numbers chasing Tad off the island? I glance to the hall where Demetri trailed off in. What is he up to? Could Tad really have some supernatural ability to predict something like this?

  My heart thumps in fear for him. “I’d be leery if I were you.”

  “Ha!” Tad balks. “Well, you’re not me. I’ve got the luck of my Irish ancestors and it’s coming home to roost, baby!” His left arm flaps like a bird and a high-pitched cawing sound evicts from his mouth, and just as soon as he starts dancing an odd little jig, he ceases all movement and crowing as he spots something behind me and takes off for the grand room once again.

  Mom and I turn around to find Barron and Emma darkening the doorway.

  Emma is henpecking poor Barron as they deposit their umbrellas into a large copper bin—something about almost missing their son’s big day.

  It’s no secret that Emma has never cared much for me, and today I don’t think I should make a secret of my feelings either.

  “Emma, Barron.” Mom manufactures a smile just for them.

  “Lizbeth, Skyla.” Barron looks forlorn as if we had all gathered for a funeral. He pulls me into a tight embrace before whispering how sorry he is, how very, very sorry before he stalks off down the hall.

  “Ladies.” Emma nods. She’s donned a cream-colored dress, sequin and satin, and her hair is done up in a bun and her lipstick is blood red in keeping with the theme.

  Mom straightens. “Skyla and I extend our congratulations to you. We are both over the trauma caused by your son and have chosen to take the high road. Let it be known, that even though we must all suffer because of his poor decision-making skills, we have no ill will.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  Emma groans as she glances my way. “While it is amusing you decided to show up, I think we all know your heart is still aching, Skyla. Why don’t you do us all a favor, yourself included, and go home right now? Your mother and I will make sure the boys are more than taken care of.”

  “Oh, I’m staying”— I say as Kresley and her tiny tot, Eli, stumble in beside us—“I wouldn’t miss this celestial train wreck for the world. It’s sort of like witnessing wickedness in the wild. A celestial National Geographic moment. One day, many moons from now, Gage will wake up from this nightmare and I wonder who he’ll slaughter first? Chloe for bedding him down, or you, Emma, for cheering them on? I’m betting it’s a toss-up.”

  Kresley smirks. “Forever the whiner.” She offers me a cheeky wink with her new unimproved face. “Welcome to the disenchanted side of love, Skyla. The men we pine for don’t always pine for us back.”

  Laken and Wesley show up with baby Charlie and Tobie. And Wes hardly nods in our direction before whisking Tobie down the hall.

  Laken gives a nervous hello to our small circle before nodding me over to the side and I gladly follow.

  “Congratulations on your big day,” I say, lacking the proper enthusiasm.

  Laken shakes her head. “Wes wasn’t feeling it with this whole circus, and to be truthful, neither was I. We’re going to have a private ceremony. This day is all about Chloe and Ga—” She closes her eyes a moment. “I’m sorry, Skyla. You are insane, you know that?” She pulls me into a quick embrace. “I would die if Wes was marrying Kresley. I couldn’t do this.”

  I can’t help but frown at her. “You died a long time ago, Laken. That’s part of the problem here.”

  She chortles out a laugh as if it were the funniest thing
in the world. “That I did, but the Counts brought me back to life.”

  “Correction,” a voice hums from behind and we’re treated to Ezrina and Nev. “I brought you back to life.”

  Laken laughs as she pulls them into a warm embrace.

  I don’t feel like hugging anyone. I feel like committing a homicide.

  Cooper Flanders comes up, his brows twitching my way as if we were privy to a secret before he picks up baby Charlie, and the three of them happily take their seats.

  “We need a virus, and fast.” I glower at both Ezrina and Nev.

  Nev’s chest rumbles with a quiet laugh. “Rina has a doozy, but it could wipe out everyone in the room—both the living and the dead.”

  “This room could use a good plague right about now.” Sadly, I am not even kidding.

  Nevermore—or Heathcliff as he prefers to be called these days—dips his brows in disapproval. “We need to be careful, walk slowly and with certainty. There is no room for error, my love.”

  “I agree.” I shudder at the thought of all the errors I have come by in my short life.

  Ezrina nods my way. “I’ll need human specimens in a month’s time if we care to proceed at a quickened pace.”

  “How about the Spectators? They’re still waiting for you to heal that necrotic state Wesley put on them.”

  “And I will.” Her large, bulging eyes settle over mine. “But they’re not a valid specimen. Find me another. Someone willing to pay the price. Until then we are in waiting.”

  “I’m afraid we’ve outwaited ourselves. I’ll hold a Faction meeting. I’ll let them know I need people willing to perform a great sacrifice.”

  Nev leans in. “We’ll have to keep them in the dark. The Barricade mustn’t know what we’re up to.”

  I take a deep breath and blow it out of my mouth. Labor breathing. This entire day will be locked in deep, meditative breaths just trying to keep me alive.

  “Then that’s what it will be,” I say. “A secret.”

  Laken comes up and hands a fussy baby Alice to Nev and the redheaded bundle of cuteness immediately quiets down once he takes her in his arms. I can’t help but frown at Ezrina as they make their way into the grand ballroom to take their seats. I’d ask why they were here, but I know for a fact Ezrina is still very much attached to her old body—the one Chloe’s wicked spirit is haunting at the moment, even if they do each look pretty much like their old selves. Chloe had the power to morph into an even more stunning version of herself. And Ezrina has bossed around Chloe’s old body until she somewhat resembles that haunted version of herself I remember from the Transfer all those years ago.