Elysian

by Addison Moore

  “So you’re saying we don’t stand a chance.” This entire conversation is pissing the hell out of me.

  “I didn’t say that.” He slips his arm around my waist and rubs my back. It feels good like this with Logan’s hand warming me, loving me without the pretense of life or death hanging in the balance. “I want that with you, Skyla. I do. But the way the cards are laying out, it only makes sense that I back down. Gage has been waiting for you. He saved every one of his kisses, those special moments—he’s only wanted them with you. I’m the one who blew everything on Chloe—fucking Chloe of all people.”

  “It’s because you didn’t know. There’s no way I’m letting you paint yourself like some bad guy just because Gage has the gift of knowing. It doesn’t matter what you did before we were together.”

  I think it’s noble of Logan trying to keep me pure for Gage, but that’s just another way of him giving up on life, and I can’t let him do that.

  “I need you Logan. I need us.” I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want Gage in that way. In fact, I’ve wanted—yearned for it, still do. But, God almighty, I want Logan in the worst way possible, and, yes, knowing I can lose him makes me want him ten times as bad. “Please say we can still happen.” Tears infiltrate my vision. “Please say that no matter what, you won’t give up on us. Because I can’t stand the idea of a future without you in it.”

  “OK,” he whispers, scooting in until our bodies press together, filling in the crevices of one another until we’re almost one. Logan gives an easy smile darting his gaze over each one of my features as if they weren’t contiguous at all, as if he needed to search them each out in order to see me. “What would our lives be like if we were together?”

  “Well”—I run my finger from his forehead, down the gentle slope of his nose and trace out his lips—“we would spend a lot of time doing this.” I lean forward and sear my lips over his until I evoke a hard groan straight from his gut. My tongue roams freely as I scope out the details of Logan’s mouth, bumping over each tooth as if I were taking an inventory. I pull back and take him in under this distilled light. Logan and his impeccable features, God knows I can’t live without seeing them day after day. “And, we would get married, quickly, so we could do this…” I run my hand to his hip and trace down over his zipper before clasping onto the bulge in his jeans with a boldness I had never displayed before. Logan grows rock solid in my hand in three seconds flat, and a breath gets sealed in my lungs as my entire body goes rigid.

  Logan reaches down and gingerly removes me, kissing my hand before interlacing our fingers.

  “You would marry me?” He gives a crooked grin.

  “Of course. You think I’m going to let you get away with not putting a ring on it? Just sleep with you at random? I’m not that kind of girl.” I’m only half-joking. I’m afraid if I were that kind of girl, I would have laid down for the three of them as easy as I doled out kisses. “You’ll probably work at the bowling alley, and I’ll…” I shrug. “I haven’t figured that part out yet. And you might have to cook all our meals, or, God knows, we’ll starve.” True story. Everything I touch in the kitchen turns toxic.

  “Oh, I’ll have to cook?” A riot of laughter rips through him. “We’ll be exceptionally thin. I’m no better around a stove.”

  “You can barbeque.”

  “Fair enough.” His eyes glow that gorgeous shade of honey. They hold his smile longer than his lips dare to.

  Logan’s entire person has lit up with the love story of our future.

  “And”—I scratch gently over his chest—“you’ll come home to me every night and love me in that special way only you can.” I never want Logan to think he’s interchangeable with Gage. They’re each their own person, and I would never think of one of them as a spare.

  Logan gives my hand a squeeze. “I know, Skyla. I know you love both Gage and me like individuals. And I beg to God that you hold back any thoughts of Marshall that might want to drift into your mind.” He pinches his lips. “Dudley’s my limit. I really can’t stand the idea of him looking at you, let alone touching you, at least not in the way I want to.”

  “Tell me how you want to touch me.” I bite down on my finger as the strap slips off my shoulder.

  “Skyla, I meant what I said. I’m holding back. You’re so close to having it all with Gage. You and Gage”—he shoots a look to the black ocean—“you’ll have magic. If you’re with me, I’ll only taint the water for you guys. Gage was just trying to be nice when he said we should spend these final hours together. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want me sleeping with his future wife.”

  My heart drums against his chest. It’s as if Logan were purposefully pouring concrete into my veins with his words.

  I turn my shoulder into him and run my tongue over my lips with an invitation, refusing to acknowledge the fact he’s using Gage as his sexual defense.

  “Don’t seduce me,” he says it sad while pulling my strap back into place. The touch of his fingers gliding over my skin makes my insides quiver. “I’m weak, Skyla.” It comes out less than a whisper. “I’m so fucking weak.”

  I pull his hand to my lips and give a private smile.

  Logan Oliver, you don’t stand a chance.

  ***

  Logan drives me home in an impenetrable bubble of silence. He walks me up the Landon porch and offers nothing but a sweet kiss as we say goodbye—a kiss I could have easily shared with my father, Dr. Oliver—Dr. Booth.

  I watch as his white truck pulls out of the driveway and wonder where that boy who fought, so hard for so long, went. It’s as if he’s hung out the white flag of surrender and is waving it right in destiny’s face. It’s heartbreaking to witness, and a part of me doesn’t want to. Maybe it would be easier for us to go down the way Logan wants, without a fight, simply chalking up one more casualty to the body count of the faction war, and, unfortunately, that body would be his.

  The blue glow of the television emits from the family room, like a string of silent seizures, so I go on over. Probably Ethan and Chloe—or worse, Drake trying to impregnate yet another teenager.

  It’s… two heads conjoined—clearly making out.

  The sound of giggles and juicy kisses filters from behind the sofa, so I tiptoe my way over.

  Shit!

  “Mia!” I smack the douchebag that’s attached himself to her lips, and another couple on the opposite couch pop up like some lust-laden surprise party.

  “What the hell is going on?” I flick on and off the lights, Tad style, because God knows I’m ready and willing to stop these hormone-happy teens right in their sexed-up tracks.

  “Skyla!” Mia reaches over and unplugs the lamp. “Keep it down, would you? You’re going to wake, Mom and Dad.”

  The boys check their phones in tandem completely unfazed by my show of authority.

  “Holy shit,” I hiss. “You guys are sneaking boys down here? What’s the next frontier? Your bedroom?”

  “We’d only be taking a cue from you,” Melissa snips before giggling into Mia.

  “I’m going up to change,” I say, ignoring the fact she just threw an honest-to-God fact in my face. I’m different. Marshall, Logan, and Gage are gods who demand to be snuck into a girl’s bedroom. “By the time I come back”—I glare at the prepubescent punks who are taking up airspace next to my sisters—“you two had better have pulled a disappearing act.” I execute a harsh visual exchange with the frizzy-haired boy that Mia mistakenly chose to suck face with. Crap. He looks as if he stuck his dick in a light socket. And if Mia were the alternative, I’d say he chose wisely.

  I storm upstairs, still debating whether or not to wake Mom and Tad up. I wonder what good old Taddy dearest would do if he knew his sweet baby girl was downstairs getting her tongue stroked by a junior mint in heat.

  Instead, I pluck off my heels and head into my bedroom and lock the door.

  I flick on the lights, and Snowball goes ballistic, so I flick them right back off again
.

  “Damn bird,” I whisper.

  Funny. I could swear I saw something silver and shiny just above my headboard. I step over and let my eyes adjust to the flood of moonlight pouring in from the window.

  “Oh, God,” I whimper as I come upon the protruding handle of an ax. I run my hand along the length of it until I hit the shiny metal blade. A note is embedded in the wicker, and I pluck the instrument of destruction from the bedframe to see what in the hell it says.

  Time.

  Time? Time for what? Clearly this is Ezrina’s demented doing.

  I take in a quick breath.

  Shit! I totally forgot that I entered into a covenant with the troll from the Transfer. If my mother finds Ezrina and Nev guilty, both Logan and I will be banished into their sickly frames forever.

  I swallow hard. Maybe that won’t be so bad? I mean Logan can live a long life as a raven, and I can be his twisted old lady friend.

  My chest pumps unnaturally like a train about to derail, and for sure life has already done just that.

  Crap.

  “Marshall?” I call for him softly so as to not wake, Tad. Funny how waking Tad was an option when it came to my sisters, but he’s someone very much not invited to the party where Marshall is concerned.

  I grip the ax between my fingers like some phallic token and examine the bedframe. The wicker is all chewed up, and there’s a hand-sized hole left in its wake. Ezrina totally ruined the headboard. If she thinks she can just pop into my bedroom and jack shit up, she’s got another thing coming.

  A rumble comes from the closet.

  “Marshall?”

  “Nope.” Gage emerges, holding his hands up in surrender. “I was kind of hoping you’d want to see me.”

  I speed over and jump on his hips with my legs wrapped around his middle, tight like a vice. My mouth bumps against his, and I melt under the supervision of those velvet soft lips before I land the dismount. Gage holds the scent of expensive cologne. His mouth tastes fresh like cool mint.

  He locks his embrace over me, and I melt into his frame. I need, Gage. I feel like weeping rivers over him. I wish he would hold me for a thousand years, and we wouldn’t need to exchange a single word.

  “I found this.” I hold up the ax, and he scoots back an inch.

  “Geez. If I knew you were going to hack Dudley to pieces, I would have stayed in the butterfly room.”

  “Very funny. It’s from Ezrina. She left a note to go with it.”

  “Love letter for Nev?” He picks it up and checks it out in a stream of moonlight. “Time?”

  “Yeah.” I snatch it back and toss both it and the ax over to my bed.

  Snowball attacks its cage with a vengeance as if it were going after Gage himself. She sticks her beak out and nips at his dress shirt.

  “Watch it.” I warn the manic fuzz ball. “Nobody undresses this boy but me.” I freeze and swallow hard at what just managed to fly out of my mouth. I take a breath and glance down at the floor a moment, too ashamed to meet up with those glowing blue flames he tries to pass off as eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Gage rubs my back before pulling away.

  “I swear that bird is psycho,” I whisper. “Take me to the butterfly room.” It comes out more of a question. After the PDA both Logan and Marshall put on tonight, I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want anything to do with me. In fact, when I saw the note, a small part of me thought Gage could have left it—one final poem that spelled out how lousy I am, what a waste I had been for him to ever pine over.

  Gage blinks us into the butterfly room with the wings still glowing an ethereal blue. They haven’t stopped emitting their strange light since that night he purveyed his special brand of magic and lit them all up in the first place.

  “I’m glad you came.” I wrap my arms around him. All of the sadness Logan feels, that heavy load of grief he hauls around each time we’re together, I feel it now with Gage.

  “I was sort of hoping you’d let me dance with you. It’s homecoming. Senior year. No do-overs right?”

  “Right.” I can feel my cheeks filling with heat, a slow spreading smile wants to break free, but I hold it back, easy as restraining a herd of wild horses. I take up his hand as Gage gently presses into my waist, and we sway to a rhythm all our own. “So what did Marshall say to you tonight? Did he upset you? He can be such a moron sometimes.”

  “Mmm.” His chest vibrates over mine. “All the time.” Gage tilts his head into the idea. “But, no, he didn’t upset me. In fact, he sort of did the opposite. I guess you could say he comforted me.”

  “He did?” Now I’m dying of curiosity. God, what if Marshall led him into some pornographic art exhibit staring Gage and me?

  “He said everything would work out for the best. Then he suggested I dive into the hotel swimming pool and forget to come up for air.”

  My mouth falls open. “I’m so going to smack Marshall the second I see him.”

  “I’m teasing.” His dimples flutter as he imprisons a laugh. “The first part is true. He said a few other things, and that’s when I made the decision to take off.”

  “So, are you going to tell me what any of those things are?” I say it measured trying to convince him to do exactly that, but I have a feeling it’s not happening.

  “I will.” He dots my forehead with a kiss. “Later, like much later—graduation maybe.” He gives a little laugh, and those expressive ditches in his cheeks excise into his flesh. Gage is so mind-numbingly handsome. My heart aches for us—breaks for us.

  “Graduation, huh?” I moan at the thought. “It seems like a million years away. But I’m going to hold you to it.” I relax over his chest and listen to his heart thump, feel its vibration as it rides over me in waves. “Hey”—I perk up—“rumor has it I get to see the woman who bore me through her loins on my birthday.”

  “Great, take me with you.” His features harden. “I’ve got a thing or two I’d like to say to her.”

  “Testy, are we?” I’m kind of liking this edgy side of Gage.

  “Call it what you like. I really do want to talk to her.”

  “Yeah, well, get in line.” I relax my cheek over his chest again and listen to his heart palpitate, blow after blow. It’s funny. With Gage I can easily envision us well into the future. Gage and I lying in bed, our bodies damp from the exertion of our love, and me, repeating this very act. If Gage and I ever marry—hell, when we marry—I plan on ending every single day listening to the beat of his heart. There is no better lullaby than the one I’m hearing now. And what a sad thought because there’s Marshall and Logan to consider. “Anyway, I’ve got a pickle or two my mother needs to pluck me out of—at the very least, give me directions to the nearest fire escape.” I press my lips together. Great. I’ve just likened Gage to a burning building. I let out a sigh.

  Maybe Brielle’s idea of sleeping with the three of them isn’t so bad. Of course, not at the same time… I shake the thought out of my head. What am I saying? Every idea of Brielle’s has craptastic written all over it. I can’t remember the last time Brielle had a good idea. Not to mention the fact Logan has already declared his penis a Skyla-free zone. I scoff at the thought of a sex-off to decide who I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. Deep in my heart I already know. Don’t I?

  “Our birthdays are going to be epic.” Gage relaxes his lips over the top of my head.

  “They are because we’re going to celebrate them together. Let’s do the party on yours this time.” I still want to forget that fiasco at the bowling alley last year when I found out Logan was a Count, and Dr. O gifted me Chloe fresh from the coffin. If I could go back in time, I’d stab her a thousand times with a cake knife until she bled out all over the floor and gave me the gift of a lifetime—dying.

  “No, let’s do it on yours. I don’t want a big deal on my birthday. This is all about you.” He plants another hot kiss over the top of my head as we continue to sway among the glow of the butterfl
ies.

  “Well, I don’t want any big deal on my birthday, so I say yours.” I look up and hold back a laugh. “I’m your elder, so you have to listen.”

  “You’re damn lucky I’m into older women.” His dimples ignite, no smile.

  “Ha! That was funny, and also it was the last time in our lives you will ever call me old.” I’m shocked at how serious I sound—most likely because I am.

  He growls out a laugh, and I savor the feeling of his chest rumbling against mine.

  “I’d better go.” Gage sighs next to my ear, and my skin tingles with pleasure. “I love you,” he whispers. He presses his finger gently over my lip, and I resist the urge to bite down over it. “Don’t say it. I know you love me, Skyla. There’s no need. I didn’t say it to sway you. I did it because I’m going to tell you that I love you every chance I can until the day I die. I love you like fire loves oxygen, like a thirsty tree loves the rain.”

  “You have a gorgeous way with words.” I shiver in his arms. Gage breathes poetry. His face alone is a poem written by God. “I bet you’ll be a great poet.”

  “Nah.” He pushes out a dry laugh. “I’m thinking about writing, though. Maybe a thriller—something about a mad woman with an ax who terrorizes a beautiful girl on an island.”

  “Does the girl live?” I bite down on my lower lip. It’s all I can do to keep from kissing him.

  “She does.” Gage pushes out a sad smile. “She lives happily ever after, forever and ever.”

  Happily ever after—forever.

  Sounds like Gage is speaking in code, and judging by the resolute sadness written on his face, I think he might be.

  “Thank you.” I lay my cheek over his chest. “I love you, Gage Oliver. You can never stop me from saying it—from feeling it.”

  Gage changes his mind and stays, and we dance into the early hours of the morning.

  31

  Humiliation Tribulation