Red: Fiery Finale (Spectrum Series Book 8)

by Allison White

  “How long have you been standing there, weirdo? It’s impolite to stare,” she says, and I’m momentarily stunned by how much like Red she is. Her smirk is the tell-tale sign, along with the wild blonde hair, though hers has a neat braid on the side. Her face is fresh of the heavy black eyeliner she had on yesterday, making her look at least four years younger.

  “Not much to stare at.” It slips out before I realize who I’m talking to. She just looks so much like Red, and we banter all the time and agh. I am making a horrible impression, aren’t I? “I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to say that,” I sputter, blushing like a sinner in church.

  “Don’t sweat it, kid,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand, even though I’m older than her.

  “And you must be Noah—I’ve heard so much about you.” The older man finally turns around, and I stifle my nerves shooting up my arm. I am standing in front of Red Sylvetti’s grandfather. Oh, geez. He holds out a shaky hand, sporting a soft, wrinkled smile. “Maybe a little too much, but it’s hard enough getting her to talk, so I let her go on. Almost talked my ear off, though.” He laughs, and I crack a genuinely amused smile, shaking his hand.

  “Red talked about me?” I can’t even try to rein in my surprise. The girl rarely speaks her mind unless I have her cornered or drunk, sometimes both. That night in the jacuzzi sparks a flood of red blush under my skin. Harley eyes me out of the corner of her eyes almost knowingly, but she doesn’t say anything.

  “Every single time she came by to babysit me,” he tells me with an annoyed roll of his eyes, but there’s a small tug of his lips. Appreciation? Love? Both? Knowing his selfless granddaughter, I know it’s for sure both.

  “And she wasn’t even subtle. It was Noah this, Noah that, Noah, Noah—” Harley exaggerates, throwing her hands in the air.

  “Okay, I think that’s enough, don’t you think?” Red snaps as she walks into the room and yanks on her sister’s hair. Harley gasps in pain and moves to yank on Red’s, but she’s too quick and dodges her, slides over to the counter, and plucks a small chocolate chip pancake off a plate. “Why are you dressed?” she grumbles through her huge bite.

  “Because he’s ready to leave your ass,” Harley mutters bitterly, rubbing the area of her hair her mean older sister tugged at. Her voice is saturated with an angry growl, and her eyes are drawn into slits…but I sense the love she has for her sister and how much she missed her. A longing pings in my chest; I wish I’d had a sibling to share a deep bond with…

  “Grandpa,” Red murmurs between bites of her second pancake.

  “Yes, sweetie?” he sing-songs, swaying side to side as he makes scrambled eggs.

  “Have you met my boyfriend yet? The big dope standing over there, watching us like a weirdo?” she says and flashes her eyes to mine. I smile and shake my head, leaning against the kitchen island.

  “Yes, we have met. In fact, he told me about the shrine you have dedicated to me in your bedroom closet,” I joke, and her eyes lighten.

  “Sure you didn’t stumble upon it when you were snooping?” she asks, glancing at her sister mischievously, then back at me with a smirk. “While you were at it, did you find the collection of vibrators under Harls’s bed?”

  “You bitch!” Harley gasps, face red as her anger seeps into her cheeks and the base of her neck. I stifle my laughter and glance at their grandfather. He merely shakes his head at his bickering granddaughters, and I sidle up next to him.

  “Can I help?” I ask him.

  “Sure can. Slap these bacon strips on there for me?” He points to a lone frying pan, and I nod and twist the knob on the stove on. As the blue flames surround the bottom of the frying pan, I get to work on making the bacon.

  I glance over at the screaming girls. “Are they usually like this?”

  He nods, sighing in nostalgia. “Every day she lived here. But it sorta slowed down when she moved to go to college. How is she doing there? She isn’t making fires and starting fights there, is she?” He sounds like he expects her to, but no. She’s moved on from her rebellious stage, and Harley will do the same soon enough. I already saw the light shifting in her eyes when she found me being a creep a while ago…

  “She’s doing great…” I feel like shit; I don’t even know his damn name.

  “Earl.” He laughs like my not knowing my own girlfriend’s grandfather’s name isn’t horrific but comedic gold. His blue eyes shine as he holds his hand out, as if we didn’t just shake hands a moment ago. “Pass me the cheese?”

  I flush and try to appear calm, passing him a block of American cheese. The screaming has subsided, and when I look over my shoulder, I find Harley sitting behind the kitchen island, on her phone, and Red leaning against the stainless fridge, watching me. Her expression is unreadable, and so is her posture, but it’s enough to make me turn around and continue helping her grandfather make breakfast while he gifts me tokens of the past that involve a lot of Red.

  As I laugh, Red desperately clamps her palms over my ears to tune out her grandfather and Harley laughs and eggs him on, I feel it—the ripple of that universe I want to be a reality seep into this world. And it feels pretty damn good.

  ***

  “This dress is bullshit,” Red complains for the millionth time since we left the apartment. She shifts around and tugs at the red satin fabric. My eyes scroll down her neck to her cleavage, down, down…“Pay attention. I will not be wearing this freaking dress when we die in a car crash.”

  My pervy tendencies coupled with the light rain will make sure of that.

  “Sorry.” I flush and force my eyes onto the road. “And don’t worry, you won’t be wearing it in a few hours.” I reach my hand out, and she takes it with a subtle sigh of relief, contentedness. Any of the two pumps my heart twice its regular size.

  We left Washington a few hours ago, and she’s been grumpy ever since. But it’s not her normal grumpy side that I’m used to; it’s something else. Nerves, maybe? But what could she possibly have to be nervous about?

  “Are you all right, Red?” I ask her curiously, hoping she won’t shy away from the truth.

  “I’m afraid of tonight.” Her confession makes my eyes go wide and my hand to grip hers harder, but I loosen in my posture and hand before I break it. I’m just taken aback by her admission; she isn’t usually this forthcoming with her thoughts. What has changed in the past forty-eight hours?

  “Why?” I glance at her and thumb the inside of her wrist. I dare a little more of a glance to watch her bite her lip and run her tongue over her lip, her full lip, not around her lip piercing, because she isn’t wearing it along with her eyebrow piercing. I questioned her, but she remained silent…timid.

  “And does it have anything to do with you taking out your rings?” I press for her answer, and she uncharacteristically caves in and answers.

  “I’m going to a party where the guests wipe their ass with hundred-dollar bills. Of course it has something to do with my rings,” she scoffs with a shy chuckle.

  I frown and grip her hand reassuringly. “You felt threatened?”

  “They would have been the threatened ones…but somewhat, yeah,” she admits.

  “You shouldn’t hide who you are, Red. I love you with or without them. You know that, don’t you?” I hope she doesn’t think I’ll be embarrassed or anything having her in my arms. I couldn’t love her any more than I already do. Her being bold and badass and drop-dead gorgeous is what attracted me to her in the first place, and it always will.

  “Of course I know that, dummy,” she utters and watches with wide eyes as we pull up to a lit-up mansion. “But…um, fuck. You lived here?”

  “All of my life.” I stare up at the house briefly before looking over at her and her frightened eyes staring up at the intricate shrubs and man in a tux guiding women out of town cars. “Hey, look at me.” I cup her cheek and turn her face to mine. “I don’t care what you look like to my parents or their snobby friends or anyone else on this planet. You are
breath-taking inside and out, and no piercing or black clothing can change that.”

  Her eyes soften, and a breath visibly catches in her throat, and her eyes gloss over as she whispers, “Have I told you how much I loved you?”

  I crack a smile and hold her face, thumb her heated cheeks. “Maybe once or twice.”

  “Then I guess I should tell you more often, huh?” she croons playfully, her voice raspy and sexy. Her eyes flicker to my mouth as I slowly run my tongue over my lips.

  “That would be nice, I guess.” I shrug, and she scrunches her nose.

  “I love you, Noah Wells,” she whispers against my mouth.

  “And I love you, Red Sylvetti.” I close the distance between her and kiss her enough to yank on my heart and let it flutter to her own. I can feel it enter her body as she gasps and pulls me closer by my white collar. I kiss her with the love I have for her today, tomorrow, and all the days ending in Y.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Red

  Noah’s childhood makes mine appear as a toy. Tiny and inferior in every sense of the word. The expertly polished marble floors shine like a mirror under my spiky red heels as he leads us down some twisty hallways. I would get lost in this castle of a house, no doubt. Men in crisp black tuxes with young gold-diggers hanging off their arms in fitting dresses flank us.

  I run an anxious hand through my voluminous curled hair. Everyone around us walks with long, powerful strides, as if they hold their own part of the world in their crusty little palms. I’m nowhere near intimidated. These rich fucks could have woven the planet and I still wouldn’t cower in my boots. No, I’m nervous about being here with Noah. I’m afraid he’ll finally see my tattoos beyond the fancy dress he bought for me last night—which I have about a quarter of the cost waiting for me to pay him back—and slink beside one of the leggy girls surrounding us.

  Oh my God! Red Sylvetti is being self-conscious? Who would have ever known she was human, right?

  I roll my eyes at my own commentary and hold him tighter; he instantly pulls me closer, lapping an arm around my back. He kisses my temple, and I melt into his arms and take a long, deep breath. He’s right. He didn’t say a word, but he is so fucking right. He loves me, not some bimbo who can’t count past five. He loves me, adores me…and I feel so guilty because even though I’ve been owning up to my mission of being honest, I’m still an utter piece of crap.

  We’re in front of the entrance to the grand ballroom when I have my first heart attack. Gold staircase railings with intricate designs woven along it run up to a lone deck with one white grand piano, where a man in a tux is playing madly. Wildly. Passionately. The floors are just as shiny, the men and women just as flashy, and a sparkling chandelier about twenty feet wide hangs above us, darting thin strings of light on glittery dresses and shiny loafers.

  I feel like that princess chick that was with the Beast, and I just walked into a Great Gatsby dream. Even the air is hazy, soft fringes clouding my peripheral vision. Clouding my everything—it’s him. He is the envisioned epitome of light.

  “I knew I wasn’t crazy,” I mutter in a soft tone, staring up at him. Admiring him. His bowed lips curve into a barely there smile, it’s cocky and attractive, and I want to kiss it off his face.

  He looks at me through the corner of his eye and drops his voice. “Enjoying the view, mi Rossa?”

  I shrug. “I’ve seen better.”

  “You’re right.” He nods complacently and faces me. “I have seen a way better view.”

  “Oh, have you?” I bite my lip and find my tongue touching the left corner of my lower lip where my lip ring normally is. All the time. I miss it, the cold sensation that’d seep into my tongue.

  “Missing your little friend there?” he teases me, noticing my tongue probing. I eye his mouth. I miss his mouth more than my lip ring.

  “Missing your little friend much more,” I rasp and press my hands to his chest. My eyes roam around the white dress shirt spanned snuggly against his hard chest. Let them hold his arms adorned in his fitting suit jacket and trail my fingertips down.

  “Red,” he says low, rough.

  I smile, glancing up at him under my thick eyelashes. “Noah,” I whisper, soft like silk, muddled with lust. It’s been a while since we’ve fucked, and I want him more than ever seeing him dressed like this. I run my eyes over his bowtie, then his pink lips curled slightly, smugly; then I look into his eyes glimmering under the golden chandelier, and I fall a little more in love with my handsome man.

  “Please do not make out yet. Let us say hi first,” a soft, feminine voice I kinda remember says to my immediate left.

  I turn my head slightly, ready to curse the person out, when I recognize the carrier of the gentle voice. “Ophelia.” I beam at the bright girl. Whoa, has she always been this pretty, this…happy looking? And she’s still with Grey?

  The short girl with gigantic blue eyes and glossy pink lips smiles, flushing into the side of the gigantic brooding man I call shit bag. Grey’s his real name…but my version is more accurate.

  “It’s Olivia,” Grey snaps and runs an annoyed hand through his unruly hair. His eyes roll, and I find myself smiling. The fucker went AWOL a few months ago, in January I think, and turns out he chased his girl to New York. I never found out why she skipped town anyway, but he wouldn’t quit blabbering about how much he missed her and wished he could be better for her, in the bar I work at in Pennsylvania. Such a pussy, but such a pussy in love, so not really a pussy at all…

  “What-the-fuck-ever.” I roll my eyes at him.

  “Nice to see you, Grey,” Noah says politely, but his tone is strangely terse.

  “Hmpfh,” Grey grumbles, rolling his eyes.

  Ophelia slaps his chest, muttering with blushed cheeks, “Don’t be rude, Grey.”

  He just grunts again and looks around, feigning absolute boredom. Ophelia sighs again and looks at my Noah.

  “I’ve missed you so much, Livvy,” Noah coos sweetly and pulls her into a long, sweeping embrace. Her dazzling blue eyes light up as she laughs and throws her hands around his shoulders, rubbing his tight upper back.

  “I’ve missed you too, Noah, maybe even more.” She giggles, and they hug for a beat longer, long enough for me to wish her sudden and slow death, until he pulls back and pulls me to his side. I glance at Grey and find his eyes zeroed in extra hard on Noah as he slinks his girl to his side possessively.

  Good to know he’s not a fan of the weirdly tight hugging either…

  What am I even thinking? The girl is sweet as candy. I mean, look at her: her brunette locks rest on one side of her shoulders, allowing most of her round and soft face to glow. Her cheeks are pale pink, and she’s wearing a dainty white dress with beautiful lace designs. Just slap a halo over her head and you have the prettiest girl ever. Me on the other hand…

  Just look at me and my tattoos, and the guys in here are either lusting after me possibly dominating them in their tighty-whities or scampering away, again in their little boy panties. Ugh. As if I’d ever want anyone other than my handsome boyfriend, who, on another thoughtful glance, could use a halo of his own. He looks like he should be with Liv, me with the asshole named Grey…but then again, he’s staring at me like I’m his entire world.

  I smile, breaking from my ridiculous thoughts. This man loves me, and I shouldn’t have to question or even pretend to doubt it.

  “As much as I would love to catch up with you two…” Noah says, cuts a glare at Grey, then smiles broadly at his friend. “I have my girl to prove my mad dancing skills.”

  I snort and look up at him. “Who said you could dance?”

  “Jesus, when he poured too much of the ability in me when I was created,” he says and smirks, and I laugh at his resurrecting a banter line we spat previously. He holds up his palm and bows his head, glancing up through his eyelashes. “Will you give me the honor of dancing with me, Rossa?” His tongue rolls, and I bite my lip. God, he is so freaking sexy.


  “What do I get in return?” I take his hand, and he immediately pulls me into his chest.

  “Me,” he purrs and drags me to the middle of the ballroom. People move out of the way as he spins us all the way there. I can’t stop laughing at the funny face he’s making: lips pursed, eyebrows waggling. How does he do this? Turn into the dorkiest dork in the world with a snap of a finger?

  “Stop making that face,” I scold him lightly, but he doesn’t listen, just intensifies it. Shaking my head at my silly man, I whirl my fingers that are intertwined with his, the other holding his shoulder. One of his arms loops around my lower back, and he steps forward. He raises a brow, looks down at the short distance between our bodies…then closes it with one long step. “Noah,” I giggle at his silliness.

  “Red,” he murmurs against my hair then kisses the top of my head. Then my forehead, then my nose, both cheeks, lips—

  “Stop before my heart explodes. Please,” I beg him softly, pressing my face into his chest. I hear the soft thump of his heart. I don’t care if anyone hears; in fact, I want to scream it to the world: this incredibly understanding, sweet, handsome man is mine to hold now and forever. God, his kisses are too warm, too perfect.

  “That wouldn’t be fair…” I hear the frown in his words. I lift my head to find his eyes boring into mine with a fascination that strikes my heart. A smile floats onto my face as he cups the side of my face, and I just melt into his reassuring palm. “Because mine exploded the second I saw you.”

  I groan and kiss his palm before straightening. “Do you ever get tired of being cheesy?”

  “I don’t know, do you?” His hand snakes to my waist again, holding me closer. His eyes dance with delight as warmth pushes through my neck and snakes up to my cheeks.

  “I can’t help what I feel or say when I’m around you, Noah,” I tell him earnestly, my voice lower than normal. I sound shy, unsure, but I have never been more certain about anything in my life.