All Hail the King (Celestra Forever After Book 6)

by Addison Moore

  “They will be. But they’ll be better than us. And we’ll watch after them—and by we, I mean the royal we. We won’t let them make the same mistakes we did.”

  I pull his head in close to mine. “I love you so much, Logan. I will forever cherish this precious moment.”

  His mouth finds mine and we indulge in an unbridled kiss, every temptation riding its zenith as we remember how we got here, how hard we had to fight to be anywhere together.

  “All right,” a woman’s voice trills from the foot of the bed, and we look up to find a small celestial crowd.

  “Mother,” I gasp, but it’s not her that’s taken my breath away. “Daddy!”

  Here he is—tall, strong, his thick hair swept back, that tiny dimple under his eye as adorable in death as it was in life. My father has a kind look and a kind way about him. He is everything Tad Landon is not, and it never ceases to amaze me how my mother could have gone so far in the other direction. And don’t get me started on Demetri.

  “Mom? Dad?” Logan stands carefully and wraps the baby in a blanket as they all congregate around us. They envelop us with hugs, with kisses, with their praise and blessings.

  My father holds my sweet angel in his strong arms; his loving eyes lay over my beautiful son.

  “I’ll watch him grow, Skyla. Just like I’m watching over the boys. I’ll be there for you all as best as I can.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Logan’s mother wiggles her fingers until my father surrenders the baby. Logan’s mother is a tall strawberry blonde with delicate features. His father looks so much like Barron it’s like looking at his twin.

  “Heaven personified,” his mother, Judy, whispers over his face. “May God be with you.”

  Finally, Jackson Senior gets a chance to hold him. “I’d like to bless him by name. And what would that be?” He looks to Logan and me.

  Logan nods. “He has your name. Jackson—with an x.”

  His father’s eyes remain locked over his son’s an inordinate amount of time.

  “Logan.” He shakes his head as he looks down the squirming bundle of God’s pure light. “Thank you.” He touches his forehead to the baby’s. “My dear, sweet namesake—Jaxson with an x.” A warm laugh bounces through me. “May God hold you and keep you. May He forever guide you in all that you do. May the keys to the kingdom be firm in your hand, and may you share with others so they, too, may partake in its glory. Forevermore be blessed in the name of the Lord our God and his Son, Jesus Christ.”

  Dad leans in close to me. “Are you okay?” His eyes suddenly fill with worry. “How are the Factions? Do you have a plan of attack to regain your position?”

  A breath hitches in my throat as I look to the grandfather clock in the corner with its ornate detailing that looks as if it were plucked out of the seventeenth century, and I have no doubt it was.

  “Logan, tell Nev to make the calls. It’s midnight.” I nod over at him firmly, our eyes magnetized to one another. “It’s time. It happens. This is my decision, and I take full responsibility for whatever the fallout might be.”

  The room clots up with silence before Judy and Jackson wish us well and say goodnight. My father pulls me into a firm embrace, pulling back with tears that glitter like stars in his eyes.

  “Daddy, what about Sage? Where is she?” I shake my head because I already know the answer.

  He bows his head a moment. “She’s in Eversor most of the time. She’s lonely, but she’s too stubborn to admit it. I tried to get her to come tonight. She said she would see you soon enough.”

  My heart quickens and so does my adrenaline. My daughter is just as much my enemy as is her father. If she says she’ll see me soon enough, then it’s a certain threat.

  I take a deep breath and nod his way. “I understand.” He rises to leave and I pull him back by the hand. “Logan and I are getting married December thirteenth. You’re all welcome to be there.”

  The entire lot of them break out into another congratulatory round.

  My father leans in and blesses my cheek with a kiss, with a sweetness only a father can provide.

  “A pack of wild Candace Messengers couldn’t keep me away.” He gives a little wink, and the room breaks out into a warm round of laughter.

  Then, one by one, they leave, first Judy and Jackson, then my father.

  But Candace Messenger, she stays. My mother shines in all her celestial brilliance, dressed in a white robe that shines like light from head to toe. Her hair sparkles with each strand lit up like a fiber optic. She is my mirror image. Her body is svelte the way mine once was and hopefully will be again.

  “Skyla, Logan, I’m so proud of you both. Hand me the babe,” she says, taking him from me. He’s fast asleep with his button nose, that same peachy newborn glow Nathan and Barron had that I loved so much.

  “So, where is she?” I flatline. “Angel? I’m thankful for my son, but you know we were expecting her.”

  “And she will arrive.” She brushes her lashes over his cheek, and he coos as if he were laughing in his sleep.

  Logan gives my hand a squeeze. “And when she does, she’ll have a big brother to watch over her—three of them.”

  My mother chortles softly. “She will. You couldn’t have her now. Not like this, out of wedlock. No, she comes at the proper time, in the proper way—under the proper covenant. This is your reunification child, the bastard you bore with love.”

  “Geez,” I groan, struggling to sit up farther. “Logan, hand me my son and get rid of her, would you?”

  Her eyes flash my way. “You don’t like the truth?”

  “I don’t like the term. You are forbidden from ever calling my son that again. And to be honest, I’m shocked you had the balls to do it. Jaxson belongs to Logan and me. We made him. He is our love personified. He is us. Logan is the soul you paired with mine. How could you look at his offspring and speak that wretched word over him on this, the day of his birth?”

  “Skyla,” Logan whispers while shaking his head. Don’t get worked up. It’s not worth it.

  Candace nods. “He is correct, as am I. If the term offends you so ripely, I won’t use it again. The truth is, you were consumed with passion. Your hearts were already committed to love one another far before that night. I’m not a legalist, Skyla. But marriage isn’t just a piece of paper. The two of you will seek the Lord’s blessing once again. I’ll be at the wedding.” Her lips curve as she rocks the baby in her arms. “Will Celestra be restored to its rightful place by then?”

  “They must,” I say. Truthfully, there is no other answer.

  She presses a kiss over Jaxson’s precious cheek. “You are blessed. You are whole, wanted, loved, prosperous in all you do, say, see, or touch. You will live a wonderful life, with wonderful siblings, with wonderful parents. You are a king, my love. A king among men.”

  A king.

  I take a quivering breath of relief.

  Everyone else prayed a future over our sweet Jaxson, but my mother called things out as if they already were. And seeing that she is the mapmaker of destinies, he is exactly those things she suggested.

  She hands Logan his son and presses a kiss to Logan’s lips as her hands hold his cheeks hostage. Figures. She makes her way to me, her eyes glowing with a constellation of stars buried in each one.

  “You and Logan were destined for this moment and many more to come. You have no idea the lion you have birthed. His brothers shall serve him—if they are wise.”

  My heart wrenches for Nathan and Barron. I love them just as much as I do Jaxson. And I hate the thought of dissention among them.

  She blesses my forehead with a kiss, and then ever so slowly she dissolves in a brilliant ball of light.

  The room dims without her presence, the candles still flickering around the room in a quiet rhythm that is so very peaceful, so full of joy.

  A gentle knock erupts at the door and Logan and I exchange a look. I know what he’s thinking. Could it be Ga
ge? The old version? The one we still crave like iron for our anemic souls.

  “Come in,” Logan calls out just loud enough and the door cracks open and in walks Laken.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt.” Her face is pale, and she’s shivering despite the thick sweater wrapped around her. “Logan, I need to speak with Skyla. It will just take a moment.”

  “Take two moments.” Logan blesses my lips with a kiss as he lands the baby back in my arms. “I’ve got some phone calls to make.” He heads out of the room, and Laken swoops by my side.

  She shakes her head with tears in her eyes. “I will never forgive myself for being so selfish as to disrupt you on this precious night.”

  “Laken, you’re my friend. You can never disrupt me. What is it?” My breathing picks up as I see the fear pulsating in her eyes.

  “Charlie’s test results came back.” Her lips quiver with each word. “Wesley’s not the father. He lied. Wesley must have had Ezrina lie, too.”

  It feels as if the room sways hard. I can hardly believe that my dear sweet friend finally knows the horrible truth.

  “Oh, Laken.” I try my hardest to catch my breath. I’m both frightened and exhilarated at the very same time. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this. But for so long I’ve wanted you to know that truth. I’ve wanted you back fully, restored to who you were before the feds took you away. You might love Wesley and he might very well be the soulmate you bonded with as a child, but he’s not the same person—just like Gage isn’t anymore either. Cooper is the one that you chose all those years ago at Ephemeral. He’s the one that you placed over your heart like a seal. Charlie is his, and he deserves to know.” My shoulders hike up a notch. “Although, I think in his heart, he already does—and we both know Wesley does, too.”

  She closes her eyes as tears rain from her. “I was the only one in the dark, wasn’t I?” She swallows hard. “Skyla, what am I going to do?”

  “Nothing tonight.” My God, I’m about to rock Wesley’s world in a whole other way, and he won’t be aware of it until morning. He couldn’t handle being blindsided by Celestra and Laken in a single day. He’d lash out. He’d be far more dangerous than he’s ever been before. “Promise me you’ll wait a few days. I want to be there with you. I want Coop to be there, too.”

  She shakes her head. “No, Skyla. You rest with your baby. Bond with this sweet little boy. I’m going to take care of this. But before I come out with it, I need to formulate a plan. There’s little Wesley now to think about. I need to search my heart as to whether this is a forgivable offense. I need to think about the reasons I was told I left him to begin with and see if I still feel the same.” She sighs hard. “Wesley lied because he was desperate to keep me. He didn’t trust our love enough to survive. That’s what hurts the most.” She lands a kiss on my cheek. “Rest up, Skyla. I’m so very happy for you and Logan.” And with that, she darts right back out the door.

  Charlie Grace Edinger is Cooper Flanders’ daughter. It’s finally official, and Wesley Edinger is about to eat his sins and rue the day he ever thought it was best to try to steal her.

  Logan comes back into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

  He takes off his shoes and crawls into bed with Jaxson and me.

  “It’s done. I made the calls. Everything is in motion.”

  “It’s happening.”

  He nods. “What was that about?” He hitches his head to the door. “Can I ask?”

  “She knows. Charlie is Cooper’s daughter.”

  Logan’s eyes widen a notch because he, too, understands the ramification as far as Wesley is concerned.

  “I almost feel sorry for the guy,” he says.

  “Don’t.”

  We gaze down at our sweet bundle of joy, the exact representation of our love.

  “I am so far gone in love with him.” Logan brushes his finger along the baby’s tiny ear. “May the world fall at your feet, my son.”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “All hail the king.”

  26

  Gage

  November shows up on the heels of a chaotic night, sullen and gray like the calm before the storm.

  Something is afoot. Something dangerous is blowing in this direction, a wave ready to capsize this precariously small boat I’ve launched myself in. Something powerful, with muscles and sharp teeth, a rabid dog, so very hungry just waiting to devour.

  I’ve always had an intuition about things. I could predict the future. I had a very acute sense of knowing. All those years I had the capabilities of a Levatio I believed that was the reason. But now I know I have always been more than that—and not in a good way. I realize my gift of knowing is simply a part of who I am. A monster.

  My phone buzzes softly over the small table here in the butterfly room, and I pick it up and flip it over. It’s a text from Logan.

  It’s a boy! Jaxson Logan Oliver.

  There’s a picture underneath, and I enlarge it to find a precious sleeping angel, blond hair, perfect tiny features, full cheeks, tiny ruby red lips. He’s bundled tight in a white blanket and lying over a plain white sheet.

  Tears come to my eyes, and I don’t blink them away. Instead, I text back and offer Logan and Skyla my congratulations, tell them they chose the right name, and that his brothers will love him fiercely.

  Logan. That’s Barron’s middle name, too, and now I wonder if Nathan will feel out of the Logan loop. Because that’s what you do as a parent—you worry whether or not your children will feel equally loved and wanted. You seek out the deficits they might be feeling and you fill them.

  Logan and Skyla. Together at last. I frown at the picture a moment. Where is this girl they were destined to have? I suppose she comes later. My guess is this is Candace’s way of saying, I’m not done with you yet. Go forth and be fruitful.

  A heavy sigh expels from me. All those years of loving Skyla, secretly afraid she’d walk out the door for Logan—the one she gave her heart to first, the one I knew deep down inside she would never stop loving or wanting, not in that way—and here it’s come to pass. But not because she walked away. Because I did. The irony is too rich. I spent my days fearing something that later I would only bring upon myself.

  “I did it to save us, Skyla,” I whisper as I look at their precious child. And now the world has a precious gift because of it. No, my love for Skyla has never wavered. If anything, it has only grown stronger. I will not lie down and die. I will fight for us to be together forever where it really counts, in the paradise of God for all eternity. Better to live in strife for a moment, to be hated in this microsecond called life than to miss out on forever with the people I love. They might not see the light at the moment, but they’ll understand in the end. They will. This I know is true.

  A soft knock comes to the door and it startles me. It startles the butterflies who hang heavy in the air, fluttering their wings lazily as if they were drunk. The sun has just barely crested the horizon. I haven’t slept all night, not that I need to, but it’s a ritual that still brings me pleasure, one of the last I have left.

  The knocking increases a notch. Rory never knocks. I thought she might come by last night to comfort me. I would have liked that. I definitely needed it. Rory may look like Skyla, but she’s not as intuitive. We don’t have that spark. There is no deep soul connection there. It’s all sex—the raunchier, the better. She’s nothing more than a celestial hooker with my ex-wife’s face.

  It wouldn’t be my mother. My mother doesn’t dare head upstairs—not this far up. If there was an emergency with the baby, she’d knock on my bedroom door where logic would dictate I’d be. She’s downstairs in the nursery with Mally.

  Mally, who cries all night as if she were begging the truth of her paternity to be known, as if she craved the attention a real father would give her. And Wesley craves her, too. I’ve seen that look in his eyes when he holds her, and he does so more than me.

  “Come in,” I say softly as if the person on
the other end had roused me from a deep sleep.

  The door opens, and before I know it, Chloe has sealed herself inside. Her hair is combed neatly, she’s wearing a silk black robe, and I can smell the scent of her fruity sweet perfume from here.

  “Hello, big boy.”

  Shit.

  She slinks on over, swiveling her hips and drops the robe to reveal her anxious-to-have-me hard pink nipples and that Bermuda triangle at the base of her hips that I will never venture to.

  Chloe lands in my lap, takes up my hand, and smashes my palm against her chest. Her lips dip down to mine and she dots me with a kiss.

  “Why are you here?” She pulls back, her eyes glossed with moisture.

  A breath pumps through me. I have no good answer for her. I do my best to barricade my thoughts from her, this woman, the wife of my choosing. I handpicked Chloe as a signal to Skyla. As a mark of my new wicked brand, but I never thought about how hard the follow-through would be.

  Wes is right. I can’t avoid the inevitable forever. But my flesh is repulsed by her touch, and screwing her for the hell of it is simply not an option.

  Where does that leave us? How far will Chloe go to cover up our dark, carnal secret? I know for a fact she hasn’t let on to Skyla. Not really. My game works for her, too. It protects her pride, and that’s not something Chloe Bishop easily parts with.

  “I like it here.” I run my hand down her hair a moment, petting her as if she were a child. “I can think.”

  “Gage, you don’t sleep in our marriage bed. You don’t perform the functions that a husband owes a wife.”

  This is the part where I’d like to say I don’t owe you anything, but I can’t. Chloe is right. I owe her my body, and if anything, I have proven to be a relentless holdout.

  “I have needs, Gage. And new body or not, I know you do, too. I don’t want my perfectly good husband to sit in this room night after night, jacking off to the memory of his ex-wife. Get over it. Skyla and Logan are officially bonded for life.”

  “They didn’t need a baby to do that. It has always been true.” It comes out sharp, argumentative. Chloe is winnowing her way into the deepest wound I have, the incurable wound. And if she were smart, she would pack up her playthings and leave right now.