“It’s time,” Ezrina announces just as Coop glides back into the room and assumes his position on the other side of her. “Come, Wesley. You’ll deliver your angel yourself.”
Laken nods furiously at me as she struggles to maintain the breathing exercise Skyla is insisting upon. And thank God for Skyla, because it seems to be quelling her pain.
I make my way to the edge of the bed and see the bulge waiting to burst out of Laken’s body. Ezrina adjusts the blanket over Laken’s knees to act as a tent so that the view is for my eyes only. Sorry, Coop. This is a private show.
Ezrina gently touches the side of Laken’s belly. “Push with this one.”
And she does—evicting a beautiful thick, dark head of hair, a tiny face. A beautiful, beautiful face.
“Again,” I bark and Laken bears down hard. Coop is whispering something into her ear and she nods, bearing down one more time just as the shoulders pop out.
“Now,” Ezrina calls out, but I didn’t need her to.
Instinct takes over and I clasp my fingers around the tiny arms and pull the sweet angel into this world. I hold the baby up and find myself staring right at the goods.
“It’s a boy!” I shout and the room erupts in cheers as her sisters rush in, her brother and her mother land by her side, every face wet with tears, including my own.
Ezrina quickly clears the passages and rubs the baby down as he squirms and cries, the bleating of a little lamb. She quickly swaddles him in a blanket and hands him my way.
“This one is yours, undisputed,” she whispers with a wink.
And sure enough, I’m looking at my twin, even more so than Eli. This one is me through and through. I can see my future right there in his eyes, and I’m in love, so deep, so gone. There is no feeling like looking your child in the eyes for the very first time. And I vow at this moment to love all of my children equally. I know what it’s like to have a father favor one son over the other. That won’t be me. My heart has just exploded to new heights, and I will love them all with the same ferocity. This little one has just etched himself over my soul just like the others.
“Wesley”—Laken pants—“don’t be greedy.”
Fletch tips his chin up. “Don’t be too hard on him. That’s his MO.”
The room breaks out with warm laughter as I lay our son into his mother’s arms for the very first time. He blinks up at her as his dimples dig in and out in an adorable fashion.
Holy hell, he is perfect.
“What’s his name?” Her sister Lacey leans in hard with Cooper’s little sister, Marney, by her side. They’re both in high school now, all grown up and beautiful in their own right.
Laken lifts her tear-filled eyes to mine. “His name is Wesley.” She nods and my entire body explodes with love for this woman, for this moment, for our perfect, perfect son. “Wesley Cooper Edinger.” She gives a tiny shrug my way.
Shit.
I swallow hard and nod back. There’s no way I’m protesting this one.
Marney jumps up and down as she hugs her brother. “She still loves you, Coop. I knew it!”
I knew it, too.
The crowd clears out, and Ezrina offers to come back in the morning for a wellness check. She and her husband, Paragon Lurch, hightail it out with their medieval equipment and the bucket filled with afterbirth. Skyla congratulates us both, even kisses me on the cheek in a genuine show of affection. Fletch comes up and hugs me hard.
“I miss you, man. I’m moving to Paragon next winter. I miss everything and I want it all back.”
I examine this male version of the woman I love. This is the boy I grew up with in Cider Plains, the one the Counts saw fit to kill right along with me. The one who stood by my side at Ephemeral.
“I can’t wait. It’s going to be better than before. I promise.”
“It better be.” He mock shoots me as he heads on out.
And finally, Coop pulls me in for a hearty embrace and I embrace him right back. It feels right, emotional, as if he were a part of the family, after all. Once way back in a different time, a different day, he was my very best friend.
Coop takes off and it’s Laken, little Wes, and me. We hold onto each other as if there was a hurricane about to burst into the room and blow us apart.
And a part of me wonders if there is.
Wesley Cooper Edinger.
Now that, I did not expect.
25
The Sacrifice
Skyla
Donuts.
Four boxes.
Logan is religious in the way he loves me.
And once he unleashes the boys into the wild, he locks the door behind them. He feeds me, watches me polish off almost a dozen of those glazed confections all by my lonesome, and then when I’m good and full, he fills me with himself.
Logan makes love with his entire body as he does his best to fuse our souls together. And he achieves the feat again and again. We are tethered, secured, interlocked, unmovable, unshakable, grafted onto one another’s living souls for all of eternity. The enemy broke all of our proverbial bones and in doing so we healed stronger than concrete, stronger than steel, titanium, than the arm of any celestial being. We have come to be. We are. And we will be forever.
This, right here, is the springtime of our love.
“Logan,” I whisper his name like a secret as I press my cheek over his heated chest. “It’s happening, isn’t it?”
He nods. “Yes. We’re about to birth two things: our child and a new era in human history. Are you ready?”
“I don’t have a choice. My body insists. The safety of my people insists. There’s no turning back from either scenario. What do I tell them at the Faction meeting?”
“Nothing.” He runs his fingers softly through my hair. “You tell them nothing, Skyla.”
Nothing.
It will all come as a surprise, just like the day and the hour of birth. I am about to inflict labor pains over the entire planet. Grown men will fall to their knees. It will get messy. There will be blood. I must do this. And once the pain subsides, we will be left with something beautiful as it arrives screaming into this world. But I will quell it. I will nurse my people and watch them grow into this new era in Nephilim history.
It is a daring move.
So very brave.
Nothing can go wrong.
Nothing.
It’s the tail end of October. A season of witches, pumpkins, and ghosts. Paragon is host to every horror known and unknown to man. Logan and I shower and dress before heading downstairs where the entire Landon clan is gathered. Drake and Ethan sit on the sofa—their official office—with video game controllers in hand, and little Beau Geste is in the middle with his own controller. It would be adorable if it weren’t so scary how well Drake is molding him into his mini-me. On the opposite sofa, my mother sits hunched over with a blanket over her chest, fully focused on whatever it is she’s doing, and out of a level of unnatural curiosity I head that way and note a tiny pair of feet hanging out the other end of that blanket—feet far too small to belong to Ella.
My own baby does a large lumbering roll in my belly.
“Oh my God, you’ve kidnapped Laken’s baby!” It’s the first thing that comes to mind so I go with it.
Mom rolls her eyes as she pulls the blanket back, revealing a shock of dark hair, that fake boob filled with formula attached to her own chest as the baby suckles off the tip, which is frighteningly close to my mother’s nipple. It’s a contraption she’s used before on my own children.
“This is Chloe’s baby,” she all but mouths the words, and that box of donuts I shoved in my stomach churns at the thought of Gage’s new child taking up residence on my mother’s person.
She points to the kitchen, where I find Chloe noshing on a donut herself along with Bree, Em, and Logan. I waste no time in heading in that direction.
“What in the hell is going on?” I ask point-blank to the dark-haired witch who looks amazingly slender and, dare I
say, stunning today. It only makes me hate her all the more.
“Good morning, princess,” Chloe mewls. “Logan was just regaling us with stories of how he hooks a donut onto his junk and makes you work for your meal.”
I gasp so hard the baby kicks me in the diaphragm as if trying to teach me a lesson.
“Knew it.” Chloe rolls her eyes—an apparent ocular epidemic in the Landon house this morning.
Logan shakes his head as he lands a kiss to my cheek. “She’s just a really good guesser. I’m getting some coffee. You want decaf?”
“No thanks,” I say as he takes off.
Em lands a hand over my belly just as the boys come running through with Ember.
“Almost time,” Em says it somber as if it were a grievous event that was about to occur. “I need to be there for the birth.”
“To scare you out of having more children?” I say. “Be my guest.”
Nathan comes up and tugs on my shirt, remnants of a chocolate donut smeared over his face. “Mommy! Mommy! Mee-maw has, she has Chloe’s dinosaur. She’s gonna keep it now.”
I glare over at the witch before me, because what normally would be a flight of fantasy is probably gospel.
The boys take off again, screaming and wild—good and sugared up for their morning with Emma at the preschool.
“It’s true.” Bree high-fives Chloe. “This girl needs some serious sleep, so I told her to do what I did. She can pick the kid up again in five years and she’ll be no worse for wear.”
My fists ball up over my hips. “I’m not buying it. My mother might be buying it, but I doubt Gage is into giving away the precious treasure the two of you created.”
A part of me is thrilled to hear that Mally can’t sleep. I had silently prayed she would be a difficult child. But, honestly, I didn’t think of the ramifications—i.e., her tiny face shoved up against my mother’s breast for the next half a decade.
Chloe scoffs. “She’s right. And believe me, Skyla, I hate it when you’re right. Gage is bent on being the perfect father to our daughter. He’s the one that gets up ten times a night to feed and diaper the tiny beast. He’s the one shopping for new clothes online and only the best developmental toys. He’s obsessed with her. He calls her his special princess. He’s thinking of getting her name tattooed across his chest. And that’s one tat that would stand the test of time.”
I glower at the witch.
Gage wasn’t so gung-ho to get up with the boys. In fact, he was darn right thankful I was nursing because he could just roll over and go back to sleep. And shopping for clothes and toys? Gage didn’t even care if the boys wore clothes. The more I hear of this new version of the man I once loved, the less I think of him.
Emily scoffs. “Come on, Skyla. You’re getting worked up for nothing. Your face is turning purple. That can’t be good for your own little princess.” She thumps my belly with her finger. “Chloe is just trying to crap in your hair this morning. She already tried to hire me for the nightshift.”
Bree nods. “But Emma took over. She spends every single night at the house so that Gage and Chloe can get some decent shut-eye.”
A swell of relief hits me. “Wow”—my eyes widen as I look to Chloe—“you give her away at night and during the day. You really are a stellar parent, Chloe.” I head over to Logan and steal a sip of his coffee. A hard moan comes from me. “Why does the leaded version taste so much better?”
“Because it’s far away from Chloe.” He lands a heated kiss to the top of my head.
Tad barrels into the family room like a loon, waving his hands wildly. “Gather ’round, folks! It’s time!” he shouts at the top of his lungs and the baby sitting over Mom’s chest bucks before belting out a cry like I have never heard from an infant before.
I lean into Logan and whisper, “She doesn’t sound human.”
“Newsflash, she’s not.”
And I suppose technically neither are we. At least not fully.
We share a little laugh as Tad snatches up the remote and kills the video game to a round of boos and jeers. Ethan takes off his shoe and pegs Tad in the back of the head, and it’s as if a stink bomb goes off.
“What are we doing?” I ask Logan as my mother hobbles this way with her shirt falling open, that adorable dark head of hair taunting me as baby Mally struggles to stay latched onto what looks like my mother’s bare breast.
Mom squeals, “Oh, Skyla. I can just feel it’s going to happen again. And to think in only two days it’s Halloween. I still have so much to plan for Professor Dudley’s party. I’ll admit, I’ve been stuck in a slump. But with this new baby, and now this, I’ll have enough motivation to bolster me straight through the holidays. Oh, and before I forget, Demetri has already asked me to plan the boys’ birthday at his estate. He said he’ll work with you on dates, but he insists on having a party for them. And if you say no, he’ll just do it on one of the days that Gage has them.” She offers an apologetic shrug.
I shoot Logan a look. “It’s fine,” I say, rubbing my enormous belly and my sweet little angel rewards me with a kick.
In all honesty, this tiny babe nestled in my womb is a saving grace. I know for a fact I will never have to share this peanut with Chloe—and, furthermore, Logan will never hold her hostage so he can enjoy his days in peace without me. How I hate divorce, how I hate the jagged shredding of my family. This is no clean cut. Far from it. This is flesh that had melted onto flesh—his over mine, bone fused to bone that needed to be torn apart by demonically strong hands. I can see why God Himself doesn’t recommend it.
“We’ll do it on Nathan’s birthday,” I say. It’s my birthday. Not quite the way I envisioned spending it, but I figure the boys and I can make an appearance and leave early. I will be my own excuse to leave. Of course the boys will be exhausted. They’ll be the acceptable excuse.
“Perfect.” She rocks the squirming babe at her bosom. “And later that week, we’ll have a perfectly normal Thanksgiving meal right here. I’ve already invited everyone—I’ve even invited the Olivers.” She gives Logan a hearty wink. “I’m sorry, Skyla, but the worst thing you can ever do is start having separate holidays with the boys. I’m begging you to bite the bullet right now, swallow your pride and your pain. You’ll thank me every Christmas morning for the next eighteen years.” She glances to the ceiling. “Or sixteen, but, believe me, that kind of gift will last forever.”
She’s right and I know it. And sadly, as blissful as it will be waking up with my boys on holidays knowing that they’ll never have to leave my side, the thought of spending the next two decades and beyond with Chloe on those special days makes it feel like a prison sentence.
I take a moment to glower at her properly, and the witch has the audacity to offer me a wink.
Tad waves his arms as if he were flagging down a 747. “Here it is! It’s on. Y’all shut up.”
I don’t contest Tad’s sudden country-fried accent. In truth, I’ve been far too busy these past few months to contest just about anything that man has concocted. The purchasing of a thoroughbred racehorse in Los Angeles? I didn’t even blink. And sadly, the magnificent beast ended up slipping on a wet track and needing to be put down less than three days after the purchase. Poor thing had succumbed to the Landon curse far sooner than need be.
The thirteen sports cars Tad has purchased? I didn’t say a word. Granted, he bought five a piece for his sons, one for Melissa, and two for himself. Funny how Mom or Mia didn’t get anything out of the outlandish automobile deal. I certainly don’t care about myself. I’m happy with the minivan, and the fact that now Logan and I are together, I truly have my Mustang back.
And don’t get me started on all his solid gold fillings. His mouth is a treasure hunter’s dream. Then there’s the closet full of furs—yes, for him. Enough carcasses abound in his closet, it’s enough to make even those who abhor PETA cry. The pricy membership to the country club, the large donations at charity functions my mother and he are suddenly attendi
ng as if they’re the shiny new tokens of the Paragon socialite scene, and they are. And I certainly don’t mean token in any nice way. And, last, but never least, the gold-plated throne encrusted with real rubies that sits at the end of the dining room table like a shrine to his garishness. It’s really all too much—impossibly too much.
A woman on the screen stands next to a large rotating basket of ping-pong balls and carefully plucks them out, one by one, as the numbers appear at the bottom of the screen, and my eyes widen with disbelief. For a small, brief second, I think this is some errant channel hosting a rollicking bingo game, but judging by that spike in my adrenaline, every last part of me knows better.
“Logan?” My voice wobbles as Tad begins to shriek, and once the final number is called, his primate-like antics take over and he’s hopping up and down on the sofa, on the coffee table, howling at the morning moon—and, honest to God, at this point I would welcome a werewolf transformation. It would only complete the lunacy happening around here.
Mom bursts into tears and laughter all at once as Logan and I take a few unsure steps closer to the oversized television. The number five hundred thousand dollars flashes across it in big red alarming numbers and I hold my breath at the thought.
“Skyla”—Logan hisses it out like a reprimand—“if he’s right, Tad just won a half a million dollars.” It comes out annoyed, and I’m a bit relieved he shares my frustration over a seemingly joyous occasion. Soon, the entire room is whooping it up like a bunch of loons and Chloe is handing out pots and pans to the boys and Beau Geste and Ember to bang as if it were New Year’s Eve all over again. Of course, the ruckus sends baby Ella and baby Mally into a bona fide tizzy, but neither Em nor my mother seems too concerned about protecting little eardrums when the fates just rained down some serious change over this seemingly cursed household.
“Wait a minute,” I hiss right back at Logan. “This family isn’t that lucky.” I glare at the ceiling. “Do you think my mother is up to something?”
All Hail the King (Celestra Forever After Book 6) Page 49
