Oh my God. My mother has gone rogue. And the beauty of her demented, haunted plan? She gets to pin it all on me. Shit. Just shit.
Pierce nods to someone in the back and gives a wild wave. “Man, it’s like old home week.” He lets out a whoop. “I’ll be right back.” He presses a rather wet kiss over Nat’s lips that looks anything but ghostly.
“Don’t worry, he’s good, Skyla.” Nat frowns into the crowd as if he weren’t. “Especially good in bed.” She gives a hearty wink my way. “Turns out he can be as rock solid as the next guy when he has to. Plus, this way, we don’t need to use protection. I’ve never been so happy in all my life, and I owe it all to you. Really, I can’t thank you enough.”
“Whatever you do, don’t thank me.” My heart sinks for her. “I know how much Pierce and Kate mean to you, but they’ll have to go back into the box soon enough. This little interdimensional playdate can’t last forever. Once their mission is through, they’ll have to resume their dirt nap.”
Her lips rise to a scowl. “You really have a crap way with words, Messenger.” She shudders—most likely due to the reality that dirt nap just invoked. “But I just want you to know that you have a friend in me for life.” Her coffee-colored eyes hook to mine like she means it. “Anything you need, anytime. I’m there for you. If you’re ever in a bind, I’m the one you can count on.”
Chloe pops back up with a laugh caught in her throat. “And knowing Skyla, you’ll be on call twenty-four seven!”
I glare at my faux best friend for a moment, and she’s quick to sober up.
“Thank you, Nat,” I say without taking my eyes off the malfeasance before me. “The first thing you can help me with is making sure Bishop stays away from me for the remainder of the evening.”
Her mouth opens as if to protest, but Nat is quick to whisk her away to the other end of the dance floor, and Emerson wastes no time in slamming her body into Chloe’s. I bet she’d like to bash her head in too for landing her on the other end of the great bodily divide in the first place. Anyway, once Holden gets within striking range, Chloe won’t be able to stay regardless. I realize that Chloe and I have our covenant to tend to, but tonight, with those wild rivers rushing between my thighs, the last person I want touching me is the vagina queen herself.
“Ms. Messenger.” The sexiest Sector on earth or in heaven pops up, and I’m stunned by his blessed by God looks.
My body bucks on cue, and I latch onto Marshall with my eyes shut tight and feel that electrical current rush from his body to mine. And oddly, quite shockingly, I can’t seem to bring myself to the brink of this sexual disaster.
“You’re losing your touch.” I frown up at him as a breath hitches in my throat. “Marshall Dudley.” I pull back to take him in, and I can’t help but gasp. “You are resplendent tonight.” That visual Chloe planted in my head with me utilizing Marshall like a sit and spin takes over, and my breathing is right back to borderline erratic.
“Skyla.” Marshall pulls me into a partial embrace as we begin to sway to “Careless Whisper”. “Dare I say I look my usual self. Above average without saying so, of course, but what pray tell has you so absorbed by my presence?”
“I’m in desperate need of some sexual healing.” My cheek rubs over his rock-hard chest, and I give a little whimper. “It’s all these damn hormones bottlenecking in my vagina just begging to shoot out like a Roman candle on the Fourth of July.” Damn Kegels, too, but I leave that demented exercise out of the equation for now.
“Language.”
“Technically, vagina is an anatomical term, popularized this evening by the big clitoris herself, Chloe.” I wince up at him. “More anatomy, sorry.”
He lets out a heavy sigh as he scans the crowd, his fingers press into my back ever so slightly, and it feels like a most welcome relief. I need to be touched, to be licked, and suckled in a fit of lust and passion.
“I can hear you,” he rumbles.
“I was hoping.” My tongue does a quick revolution over my lips as I look up at him and, dear God! Why am I doing my best to seduce Marshall?
“I am your husband,” he’s quick to point out. His chest adheres close to mine. It’s so heavily sculpted I can make out the hard ridges of his abs from beneath his dress shirt. “And I do have a talent for spinning women over my lap.” His lids grow heavy, his lips curve into a devilish grin. “I’ve been known to bend a few over my lap as well.”
“Let me guess.” My voice trembles out in a wave full of quivers. “They used to call you The Punisher?” The thought of Marshall doling out corporal punishment incites an extraordinary level of excitement in me. “I guess this is the part where I tell you I’ve been a very, very bad girl.”
His lips turn down, making him look far too comely for words.
“You don’t need to tell me, Skyla. I’m witness to the event myself.” His eyes flit into the thicket of bodies next to us. “The great corpse revival is evidence of such wayward behavior. And answer me this.” His gaze hardens over mine. This gruff, down and deliciously dirty version of my favorite Sector is alarmingly attractive. “All of these resurrections and where is your father?”
And just like that, my lady boner disappears. “Why are you dragging my father into this?” I give his ribs a quick pinch. “My father has been through enough.” It’s true. I had entertained the idea. A quick visit to L.A. to the cemetery that houses his remains is all that stands between the great beyond and having him here on Paragon with me. “I don’t know what they’ll do to them.” Tears come to my eyes as I glance out at the crowd mostly comprised of long past souls. “But they’re brave for volunteering. I’m not sure I would have chosen that option myself.” I could only ask the question. It was the Holy Spirit who quickened them to respond. “They know the risks.” My voice flounders as if questioning if I knew them at all. “And because of their bravery, my people will be sheltered for a very real shitstorm.”
“Mmm…” Marshall muses in agreement rather than calling me out on the expletive. “Those you fear—they’re here tonight, Skyla. Watching you.” That drugged look in his eyes melts over me. Marshall has a way of making you feel as if you are the only person he sees. “They blend in so seamlessly, but they are thirsty for alien blood— Nephilim blood.”
“Aliens.” I mean to shake my head at the idea, but I shudder instead. “Wes has the planet so primed for some takeover from space, the world practically demands it at this point. It’s so absurd.”
“It’s the unknown, Skyla.” His fingers stroke my sides, sailing lower still, dangerously close to my quaking thighs. “It’s the thought of what could be, how quickly they can come.” He leans in, burying his mouth so close to my ear the entire left side of my face burns from his heat. “Imagine being penetrated quickly, invaded, while you lie open and vulnerable, being taken so violently, by force, bent to do their bidding while they ravish all you own, while they sink their mouth deep into the nexus of your—”
A body interjects itself between us, but it’s too late as my body explodes into one uncontrivable quiver.
“I haven’t lost my touch, Ms. Messenger,” Marshall calls out as he takes off into the crowd. “Don’t you forget it.”
A hearty sigh escapes me as I open my eyes to find that the new arms wrapped around me belong to none other than Chloe herself.
“What are you doing here?” I sneer into the crowd and spot Nat locked in Pierce Kragger’s tree trunk-like arms. “Never mind. I see Nat’s traded you for something far more sexually satisfying.”
A dark laugh remains buried in her chest. “Judging by that orgasm you just had, I’d say the same went for you and Gage. Marshall Dudley, Skyla? Really? And right here in the bowling alley. I knew you were a little perv.”
“Oh, shut up. You and I both know I’ve been suffering from an entire string of mini earthquakes all week long.” It’s true. I’ve had an entire rash of vaginally-inspired seismic events in my husband’s absence. “What is it? What do you want?”
I try to untangle our limbs, but she latches on that much tighter.
“First, I saw that disgusting wanton look on your face for someone other than your better half, and I thought I’d be the one to smack some sense into you. And second—” She shoots someone to her right a dirty look, a regular occurrence for Chloe. Pausing to distribute her hatred is as natural as breathing with Bishop. I’m betting it’s Emerson. The fact Chloe hates me doesn’t make me special. “Oh, Skyla.” Her finger traces my lips before she painfully flicks my nose. “You are special to me.” That familiar drugged look enters her eyes, only she trades the sexual nature of it for something far fiercer. “We are beyond sisters, beyond lovers. Our Celestra bond has us bound together, intricately woven through the tapestry of our beings. We are the light and the dark, the other side of our own coin.” Her brows lift a moment. “We are frighteningly one in the same, disposable to the powers that pursue us. And they do pursue us, Skyla. We are their pawns.” Her fingers grip me, and my body electrifies with fright, with a strange delight and an eagerness to hear her pour out her truths. “We are the survivors. Our greatest enemies, our only true friends. We can no longer trust anyone outside of ourselves. For me to deceive you would be tantamount to deceiving myself. We have overcome the pettiness of who we were—and here we are, the new reality, the best reality. The most dangerous reality of all—together we have the power to move heaven and earth, destiny and fate. We have put destiny on a chain, called fate a cruel illusion to its face. We are the victors, Messenger.” Her mouth inches closer to mine, those wicked eyes still knifing their way into my existence. Chloe is luring me into the dark pit of her soul, and I can feel the suction. Can’t fight it. “We are the—”
Logan plucks her off me so hard and fast, he sends her twirling into the crowd.
“Wow.” My hands find a home over his waist. “Eighties music really brings out Chloe’s esoteric side.”
“What was she saying?” Logan searches my features with those citrine lenses he sees the world through, and I melt at the sight of him.
“Is that a black eye?” I’m suddenly pulled out of the quasi-sexual moment as I inspect his swollen features. “And a fat lip? Logan, who did this to you?”
He inches back as I attempt to touch his cheek. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Talk about it, Oliver, or I’ll rip this place to pieces looking for the dude who did this to you. I bet he’s got two broken legs. There’s no way the Logan Oliver I know would let anyone get away with ruining his perfect face.”
His eyes close as he pushes out a sad, half-hearted laugh. “Trust me, I didn’t lay a hand on the other dude.”
“And that would be because?” God, if Gage did this to him, I’ll bite off his nads. Right after I roll them around in my mouth for just a tiny bit. My body shakes just begging for more of the visual.
“That would be because it wasn’t a dude, Skyla.” Logan’s shoulders sag with defeat. “I got beat up by a girl.”
“What?” A tiny laugh bubbles in my throat, but I won’t give it. “Who is she? God, it was Lex, wasn’t it? I always knew she had a dark side.”
“No.” He pulls me in, and I can feel his body rumbling with laughter. “It wasn’t Lex. Look, I don’t want to talk about it right now. What had you locked in Chloe Bishop’s arms?”
My hormones roar back to life at the sight of him, resilient, impervious to any form of satisfaction Marshall might have doled out. That orgasm, powerful as it might have been, has nowhere near taken the edge off.
He winces. “Never mind that. What are you thinking?” He gives my body a quick squeeze, and I can feel that coil tucked deep inside of me ratcheting up again.
“I need to get laid.” I bite down hard over my lip. “I’m sorry,” I mouth, this time near tears. “It’s my body. I’m a ball of nerves, a jumble of hormones. And don’t look at me like that. It’s not my fault biology is trying to have its way with me. You can’t judge me.”
“I’m not judging you.” He squints at me with a pained look in his eyes. “In fact, I get it. I’ve got needs, too. Trust me, I know how agonizing a little deprivation can be.”
“You do? You do!” I practically shout it in his face. “Maybe we should help each other out?” God! What am I saying? “You know, just something quick and dirty in the office maybe?” Chloe was right. Even I can smell the desperation on me.
“Skyla.” He inches back at the offensive odor no doubt. Then his lips twitch, and a dark look comes to his eyes as if he’s actually entertaining the idea. “I want to invite you to come to the bowling alley before the demolition.”
“That sounds great. But as much as I would love to roll around every square inch of this place with you naked, I’m not sure I can wait that long.”
He gives a dark laugh. “No, Skyla. I want to do exactly this with you.” He sways his hips with mine in time to the music. “I want to give the bowling alley a proper private sendoff, and I couldn’t think of a better person to say goodbye to the place with than you.”
“Not even Ellis?” I tease. It’s actually heartwarming the way Logan has taken our old friend under his wing.
“Not even Ellis.” There’s a tired look in his eyes that pains me. Logan is thirsty for so much more than something quick and dirty.
“I’ll gladly be here to help you give this place a proper sendoff.” My body adheres to his, and my hormones are taking the elevator up once again. “But first, how about a quick look at the schedule?” I nod toward the office. “Maybe you can bend me over the desk for old times’ sake?”
He barks out a laugh. “I have never bent you over the desk, Skyla.”
“Now is a perfect time to start.”
He does a double take in that naughty direction. “On second thought, I think you might be right.” Logan moves his hips over mine as he walks me backward, and my lips come shy of taking a bite of those ropey muscles buried in his neck. “A wise man once said to me that great love requires great sacrifice.” He dots a kiss to my nose as he sends me sailing backward. “Have a great rest of the night, Skyla. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
I smack into a wall of granite and turn to find the exact person I was hoping to avoid and shockingly it isn’t Chloe—it’s Gage.
“Hello, beautiful.” His voice strums erotically deep, and somehow it doesn’t come across like some cheesy pickup line. His lids hood low and there is no mistaking his sexual intent. But that desperate ache Gage has worn so long for me like a mask seems to be missing. This is a different version of my husband, one in control, one who knows what he wants and understands in no uncertain terms that he is about to get it.
“Look”—I try to untangle myself from his power grip—“I’m not in any mood to listen to what you might have to say.” In truth, I fear the words that will spill from his lips. It has never been my stubborn streak rearing its ugly head when it comes to hearing him out as much as it’s been a demon of fear with its wings spread over me like a plague.
“I’m not interested in talking to you,” he says it quick and deliberate while his arms cinch over me like a vise. “I’m interested in doing other things with you this evening.” His fingers press in just enough, and a spark jumps from him, igniting the fuse that runs straight to that aching part of me that’s been so desperate to have him. In truth, not Marshall—not even Logan, could have satisfied this itch. My flesh simply craved my other half. The very flesh that abides in covenant with me for better or for worse, and we had certainly hit the very worse—a far lower of a plummet than either of us could have anticipated. “I miss you.”
He comes in as if he’s about to land a kiss over my lips, but he turns his head ever so slightly and rubs his scruffy stubble over my cheek, hard and searingly hot, and I give an audible gag as I gasp for my next breath. Hot damn. Gage Oliver has loosened the shackles of any politeness that might have resided in him. Tonight, this is a far more commanding, demanding, rough around the celestial edges version of him
coming out to play—only he’s not playing at all. Gage Oliver means fucking business, and the first order of fucking would be with, well—me.
“Tonight, you are mine, Skyla.” He pulls back and presses those cobalt eyes into me. “We are more than the sum total of any definition the universe wants to crown us with. We are husband and wife. We have the ability to overcome whatever the powers that be decide to fling our way. We are the masters of our own destinies. We don’t wear the coat of affliction when we’re together. Instead, we dance across the stage of life as one.” His hands grip me tight, and my body sizzles as it begs to have him.
“Wow,” I say breathless, my lips inching closer to the home of his mouth. “Sounds like you and Chloe have been smoking from the same crack pipe.”
His left dimple digs in deep as he expels the slightest rumble of a laugh. “I hear Chloe has kept my bed warm for me.”
“She’s not as skilled as you are, but you know what they say—keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
His head tilts to the side, and a harsh neon green light from above offers him an alien illumination. “That’s funny. I’m going to keep you pretty close tonight.”
“How close?” My body quivers as if begging for me to forgive him—or in the least overlook a few couple hundred indiscretions so we can finally get a little relief around here.
“Damn close.” Gage bears down on me with a drunk gaze as he leans in and brushes his lips over my temple. His arms latch over my back, and he pulls me with a greedy aggression I have never seen before. “I’m going to come inside you, Skyla.” His voice is heavy and heated in my ear, and I shiver. There’s nothing like a good double entendre to twist the cords of desire even tighter. “There’s no escaping this tonight. You will lie down in my bed. I am not taking no for an answer.”
Crown of Ashes Page 36
