“These are horrible rumors you espouse.” His chest rumbles with laughter as we start along the cobbled path. “And knowing my brother—all very true.” He presses into me with a silent plea. “I’m not like that,” he whispers. “I’m not interested in anyone else, and I promise you don’t need to offer up your body to keep me in place.”
I click my tongue in amazement at him. “I knew I liked you.” I wanted to say love, but I’m afraid that’s the magic word with the ability to chase him away.
I draw a quick breath at the sight of our conjoined hands.
“Come here.” He pulls me over to a patch of evergreens standing guard over the field like a row of secret agents.
Wesley’s cheeks light up like a Christmas tree as he stares past my shoulder. I follow his gaze to Asterion, the menacing bronze marvel that has the capability to both terrify and digest small children in their entirety. Lacey would have nightmares for weeks if she laid eyes on that thing.
“You know I care about you,” he whispers. “That I’ve always had an affection for you.”
I can feel it coming. Something monumental is about to weave from his lips, and I hold my breath for the revelation.
“I guess what I’m trying to say—” His lips curl into a half-smile, and he sports that smart-alec look on his face like he suspects I already know. I miss that look. I miss our never-ending banter that would keep us entertained for hours, a schoolgirl’s foreplay worth its weight in gold. He sinks down, lands a soft kiss on my lips. “I love you. I swear to you when I said that a few days ago, I meant it with everything in me.” His eyes latch onto mine sternly as though he were demanding that I understand the gravity of his declaration. “I have always loved you, Laken.”
There it is. If I ever needed conformation, it was just offered up on a heart-shaped platter. That was no accidental proclamation, no profession of familial adoration, or a spastic sentiment to get into my pants. He meant it, still does.
My mouth falls open.
“I don’t want you to say it back.” He swallows hard. “I don’t want you to say it until you’re ready. Besides, I don’t need to hear it.” He tightens his grip on my hands. “I can feel it.”
But I do love you, Wes.
I give his hand a squeeze.
You have to know that I’ve always loved you.
I lean in and indulge in the hot of his mouth. Let him know through a series of powerhouse kisses how much I love him—how much I’ve always loved him.
Kissing Wes on campus in front of the entire student body, Kresley in particular, feels like I’ve just declared open season on our love.
Our hearts tremble in rhythm, and our hips move in time. These kisses are worth a thousand bright red targets on my back. Ours is a love that can outwit death, catch a bullet in its teeth if it had to.
It’s going to be Wes and me forever.
Cooper is already sitting in Mr. Edinger’s class when I arrive. The student body is bustling with conversation, the noise level like that of a beehive. I swoop in and he spins to greet me.
“You’re phenomenal.” His flaxen hair is combed back wet, looks the exact shade as mine in this bright light. I wonder if I’m really going to find out that Coop is my brother, and my stomach ignites in protest at the thought. “My dad confirmed it.”
“Your dad is a very wise man.” I pull out my notebook before leaning in. “Spill.”
“He’s never seen blood like yours before. He says the odds of being pure anything are slim.” He dances over me with his pewter eyes. “You’re the only pure Count he knows of.”
“That means both my parents…”
“Had enough in them to create a work of perfection.”
“And my sisters and Fletch? God—we’re like the royalty of angels.” I find this unnaturally exciting for reasons beyond my comprehension.
“I wouldn’t go that far. The Counts are a treacherous band of mobsters.”
“Gee, thanks. A second ago I was aristocracy, and now I’m reduced to mafia princess.” Either way, there’s a slight uptick of glee at the thought.
“Some might prefer the latter.” He gives a wry smile.
“So, we need to test Jen and Fletch. If it’s true then they’ll be pure too.”
“Not necessarily. It’s works similar to a blood type. Just because you’re blood type P, doesn’t mean they can’t be sporting other letters of the alphabet.”
P for pure I get it. I like Cooper’s quick wit, his constant stream of humor even in the most harrowing circumstances. I need that. I need him and his ability to believe everything that flies from my lips.
“I guess it’s not important since I’m more than positive I’m related to Fletch. The real people we need to evaluate would be my fake parents. At least then I’d have the ammunition to prove my entire existence here is a lie.” An idea comes to me. “I’m going to see them this weekend.”
“You want a drive by genetic analysis?” He leans in and says the words as if he were trying to lure me back into his bed with them.
“Does it exist?” I clutch at his wrist in excitement.
He gives a simple nod. “You’ll need saliva, but that’s difficult to keep, a blood sample, or hair. All three if you can get it.”
“I don’t know how, but I’ll do it.” A bloody scene with me chasing them around with a hatchet erupts in my mind. “Consider it done.”
“I’ll need the samples as soon as you can get them. The fresher the better.”
“I’ll be trapped out there until Sunday.”
He considers this. “Call me, and I’ll drive out and pick it up.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Yes.” Cooper settles in his seat, pierces me with those unknowable eyes. It sends a scalding ray of heat right through my abdomen.
“You okay?” He pulls back the curtain of hair that’s fallen over my face and hitches it behind my ear with careful affection.
“I’m fine.” I give a quick blink, trying to dismantle the unrequited bite of lust consuming my insides. “I don’t know directions, or even where they live.”
“I do. Anderson estate is pretty hard to miss. Meet me outside the main gate. There’s a patch of holly bushes to the left. I’ll be in the clearing behind them.”
“The bushes? Maybe you should just drop by and say hi.”
He shakes his head and gives a slow blink in the process. “I saw the look on Wesley’s face when he found you planted on my bed. Trust me, outside of tutoring you or you seeing my father, he doesn’t want me hanging around.”
“Then I guess I’ll meet you in the bushes.” Something tells me Wes would be less than impressed if he found us exchanging niceties while covertly embedded in shrubbery. None of this would even be necessary if he would believe me in the first place.
I can’t recall one instance of Wes ever being jealous back home. Then again, Cooper didn’t exist, and it’s probably a good thing.
“I would hope I existed in every one of your worlds,” he says it with mock playfulness, and my cheeks flush with heat upon the realization the bastard just read my mind.
“You touched me.” He glances down at my hand over his wrist. “I try not to listen in uninvited”—he pauses, holding back a grin—“rarely.”
I pluck my hand back as if he were a piping hot stove. “You said you were Noster. I’m confused. Who reads minds again?” I’m going to need a roadmap to understand these things.
“I did say I was Noster.” He exhales deeply. “I am.” He looks resigned to the fact.
“You said the ‘Celestrons’ were the only ones with telepathy. Unless, of course…” the words fumble from my lips. “You’ve been pumping up your superpowers just like Wes.”
“I don’t have to infuse myself. My mother was Celestra, and my father’s part, too.” He looks around before leaning in. “Consider this our dirty little secret,” he says it mournful as if his life were on the line. “If you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if yo
u didn’t share that bit of info with your boyfriend.” I note the measured sarcasm he inflicts when he says, boyfriend.
I see Cooper through an entirely new lens. The softness about his person, the low seductive way about him, the incessant flirting that he doesn’t bother hiding despite the fact I have Wes filling those boyfriend shoes. He likes me, and more than a friend. I’ll have to be careful not to lead him on—God forbid I bury my relationship with Wes because of Coop.
He gives a dry smile before spinning back around and my stomach does a soft roll again.
One thing’s for sure. As soon as I get the information I need, I’m going to stay the hell away from Cooper Flanders.
24
Fighting Words
The sun never escaped the harness of the dark, frosted gloom. An oppressive sky won the wrestling match against the anemic fiery orb. It sheltered us from those long forgotten rays, and we never experienced the light of day.
After dinner, the rain starts in—thick and heavy like skillets falling from the sky. I packed some things for the weekend, although Fletch suggested we don’t leave until almost midnight because there’s a party at Henderson in his honor. Of course, given the fact it’s in his questionable honor, Jen agreed to the ludicrous hour of departure. Call me old or a baby, but customarily I like to be in bed by then.
At said party, bodies rush around, strategically colliding into one another every now and again, prompting outright illegal levels of enthusiasm. Each person is coifed and accessorized to perfection. A regal air envelops them. Something exquisite encapsulates the entire lot of Wall Street’s spoiled descendents. Most of the high school parties I went to back home severely lacked or never saw this degree of sophistication. At Ephemeral, the hair, the clothes, even the shoes, reek of extravagance. Each student seems christened by the genetic lottery—their facial structures alone mandate they adorn the oversized windows at Abercrombie & Fitch.
Nevertheless, I’m pretty sure the raging hormonal inferno that’s taking over has nothing to do with my brother. How this party is in his honor is beyond me. Believe me, none of them are thinking too deeply about Fletch. In fact, I’ll go out on a limb and declare this entire event a ruse in the name of vodka and whiskey, and whatever else it is they’re shooting off Jax Thompson’s perfectly flat stomach.
It’s easy to see why Blaine, who I’ve been informed will also be joining us on our weekend excursion to my imaginary parents estate, would be drawn to someone like Jax. For one, she’s palatable. She’s not as pretty as Jen, but few people are, and after a while, looks can get as stale as potato chips. Another thing about Jax: she laughs at every damn thing. Sure it’s probably an induced reaction from the questionable narcotics racing through her bloodstream, but what’s not to like about a bubbly personality?
Jen probably drove Blaine into Jax’s thorny arms with all that talk about fornication and adultery while denying him the pleasure of both. She most likely, and quite by accident, got him all worked up under the wrong pretense, and he bumped into Jax on his way out of Austen House one night. Jax is a testament to physical perfection, plus the fact she’s got the face that can launch a thousand dicks doesn’t exactly help Jen’s predicament. Cheats like Blaine and Tucker don’t really put a whole lot of credence in commitment anyway, they run into girls like Jax, and the natural course of a penis takes over. He should have ended it with Jen long before making the decision to anatomically explore with someone other than my counterfeit sister. Blaine has Tucker written all over his sorry ass.
“Excuse me,” I whisper, backing out of the wall of humanity I’ve managed to land myself in. I look up to find a barely there seductive smile on the paragon of perfection—Cooper. He’s wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with a small hole just below the collar, and an unexpected wave of heat sweeps through me at the sight of him. There’s something undeniably attractive about Cooper in general, both inside and out.
“Hi.” I take in a quick breath, withholding the urge to throw my arms around him. It’s my natural inclination to console myself in Wesley’s absence with comfort sex as evidenced by my time spent with Tucker, but I doubt I’ll be putting that into practice any time soon. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for coming to stuff like this.”
“I don’t—usually.” He pushes his hand in the small of my back and helps usher us through the crowd. A warm tingle spears through me as the warmth of his hand radiates over my spine. We pass a throng of girls as they speed outside. One of them holds a cup under her mouth, periodically gagging over it.
“Close call.” Cooper lets his hand linger over my sweater a moment longer than it needs to. “I like all the vomit I wear to be my own.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“Traditionally bodily fluids are low on my list of accoutrements.” The edge of his lip curves just this side of a crooked grin. “But I might make an exception for you.”
“You would make an exception for me?” I open my mouth feigning surprise.
“Yeah, you know,” he says, tipping his chin down to his chest, “the occasional blood vial—or something you might like to exchange with me voluntarily.” His cheek slides up the side. “Saliva.” He swallows hard as though he just realized he said that out loud. “For experimental purposes of course.”
“Of course.” My toes curl in my shoes at the thought of exchanging saliva with Coop.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Cooper Flanders was trying to seduce me into an erotic salivary exchange right here in the commons area of Henderson hall. Cooper has the face of a god. I suppose the art of seduction isn’t all that necessary to get the girls he wants. In fact, I’m pretty surprised that he doesn’t have a girlfriend. For all I know, he keeps twenty on the side like Flynn.
“So you don’t mind my bodily fluids. Any other things I should know about you?” I reach into a bowl of nuts and suck the salt off the shell of a pistachio.
“I like vanilla.” He leans over me and scoops up a handful himself. His chest touches down against my shoulder, makes me want to press against it in gratitude for the simple act of believing me. “Most people are drawn to chocolate, but I can live without it.”
“Sounds like you, my friend, are on a wayward path to nutritional destruction. Chocolate is the key ingredient to a lifetime of delirious happiness. I can easily convert you.” I try not to linger on his strange glowing eyes that hold the beauty and depth of stars on a clear summer night.
“I find this chocolate conversion doubtful.” The dimple below his eye gives a quick wink. “I do like other things—cherries but not bananas, sushi, not fish sticks.”
“So, you like food.” My heart thumps unnaturally as he takes me in. Drinks me down as if I were about to disappear. “I hear men are equally obsessed with food as they are—”
“Hey, beautiful.” Wes growls in my ear. His soft cologne wraps itself around me like a sheath, reminds me that my heart belongs to him, that he’s still in that body, locked in that mind somewhere.
“Have a good weekend.” Cooper starts to walk away just as Wes catches him by the back of his shirt.
“Thanks for setting everything up with your dad.” Wes ticks his chin up when he says it. “I owe you.”
“Glad to help.” Coop nods into me and says good night. I watch as he walks out the door and drains his plastic cup over the railing.
“Guess he wasn’t staying long,” I say, watching the doorway as though he might magically reappear.
“I’m surprised he showed to begin with.”
“You never did elaborate on what exactly the clean-up committee is and why Cooper is a card-carrying member.” I turn and writhe in Wesley’s arms. It feels good like this with Wes. Safe. A thousand crazed Spectators could burst through the windows, and I wouldn’t have a thing to worry about.
“His father…” He depresses it out in a sigh. “He runs experiments on them.”
“What kind of experiments?”
He shrugs. “No clue.”
/> Kresley saunters over, flanked by Grayson and an offensively dressed Jax. Come to think of it, they all offend me on some level.
“I heard you’re going away this weekend, Wes.” Kresley grinds the words through the air.
I take her in, the easy way she places her hand over Wesley’s chest like she owns him, like she acquired him at an estate sale and has the receipt to prove it.
“Fletch—I’m going with Fletch,” he corrects.
“Watch out.” She slithers her hand over his chest. “Fletch and white trash seem to go hand in hand these days.”
I step in front of Wes, intercepting Kresley’s touchy feely tirade.
“He’s going with me, but he’s too much of a gentlemen to admit it.” I lean in toward her and whisper. “He’ll probably sneak into my room at night—tuck me in, tell me scary bedtime stories that may or may not involve you getting hacked to pieces before he kisses me goodnight.”
A hard slap ignites across my cheek. I pause taking in the burn before lifting my chin. Wes pulls me back abruptly, shouting at Kresley to get the hell out.
Grayson yanks me in by the wrist. Her red-painted lips pop off the backdrop of her pale features. “You’re a beast,” she whispers it low for my ears only. Her voice resonates deep like that of a man—like maybe she was the beast.
“Step back.” Kresley maneuvers between us. “I fight my own battles.”
Wes steps in with a look of rage on his face. “Don’t you ever fucking touch Laken again. She’s not your punching bag, Kres. Get over it.”
She shoots Wes a strangulating glare before taking off and dissolving into the rain. Grayson and Jax hesitate before filtering back into the sea of bodies.
“What was that all about?” Carter comes up, laughs out the words as she says them. Her sugary perfume does its best to asphyxiate me, a toxic combination of cotton candy and spring flowers.
Ephemeral Page 17
