Celestra Forever After (41 page)

“Well, I’m glad you asked. Drake wants to know if we can sell his T-shirts at the bowling alley. We already have thirteen small businesses that have said yes.” She gives a vigorous nod as if trying to strong-arm me into an agreement.

“No.” I pinch my lips. “Maybe. Bring ten, and we’ll see how it goes, but I get twenty percent of the cut.”

“Logan!” She whines.

“It’s not negotiable.” I hold my arms open, and Brielle gives me another heartfelt hug before running back out the door. “Dude”—I turn to Gage—“you okay?”

“I’m shit.” His lake blue eyes dart into mine, and I want to cry because it can’t be true. Gage is more than my nephew—he’s my brother in every sense of the word. “I’ve got to go somewhere.” He runs his fingers through his hair.

“You’re not going anywhere.” I pull his arm down until he looks at me. “You’re going to settle the hell down, and pretend like this afternoon never happened until we get more answers. We know just enough to be dangerous.”

“You think the Counts are playing some wicked game?”

“I don’t know. But, until I figure out how the hell this happened, I’m not going to hit the panic button. You’re still you. You love Skyla, and she loves you right back.”

“I’m a Fem.” He lets the words glide through his lips, and I watch as they slip around his neck like a noose. “I was created in hopes that I’d have children with Skyla one day so Demetri’s fucked up lineage could claim dominion. I think we have all the answers we need.” He shakes my hand off his arm. “Feel free to hit the panic button.”

Crap. “We need to talk to Skyla’s mother—and
your
mother. We need to figure out why the Decision Council would allow this to happen. Something is up. Skyla is bound to be with Dudley, she’s got a future with me, and you—well, if you’re what they say you are, then that allows three different beings an opportunity to create a lineage with a perfect Celestra.”

Gage scans the floor as if the answers are falling at his feet, out of order, and he’s desperately piecing them together.

“Skyla’s not quite a perfect Celestra—her mother is a Caelestis.”

“She’s the perfect celestial being.” I nod.

“So you think this collision course of bloodlines isn’t just some coincidence.”

“I think this collision course of bloodlines is evidence a whole new generation of beings are about to spring forth.” Right through Skyla’s uterus, but I leave that part out.

“Skyla is the key.” Gage closes his eyes a moment. “Dudley is the Sector’s solution to dominion—you’re Celestra’s new hope—and I’m the link to darkness.”

I don’t say anything.

It’s hard to contest him when he’s right.

13

Tears Over Paragon

Skyla

The fog settles over Host, haunting and languid, as if an entire legion of ghosts were strolling through the island. After my final class of the day, I head over to Gage where we usually meet—directly under the behemoth statue of Omen with his bloody, fixed gaze, a bronze fire shooting from his mouth, and I try not to soak in the irony.

Gage bursts into life through the dismal mist, and I hasten to my beautiful husband, wrapping my arms around him so tight, I momentarily forget the entire twisted conversation I had with Dudley earlier.

Gage is no dragon. Half the time I wonder if Marshall knows what the hell he’s talking about.

“I missed you.” I press a kiss just shy of his ear. His hair is covered with dew, and each tiny drop looks like a world of its own. I run my fingers through the slicked gloss.

The bronze rose wedged under the dragon’s foot snags my attention. I had seen it—inspected it at least a dozen times in that mural on the side of the Student Union and never thought anything of it until now. The dragon and the rose. I shake the thought away.

I look back up at Gage with his dark beauty that commands so much attention against the grey day—his eyes alone bring the color to our monochromatic world.

“I have a surprise for you,” I say, biting down a smile.

I take him by the hand and run him through the tiny streets, past throngs of bicycles, past the never-ending stream of students plodding to their respective dorms and apartments with their backpacks wafting in and out of the fog.

“Okay, you’re not going to believe this.” I pant as we cross the street to our new home. Thankfully the satanic three have deserted their post, and the fog has softened the graffiti on the side of the building to the point it resembles a muted bruise. The entire island is roaring with voices and errant laughter, so, hopefully, Gage won’t think too much of the nonstop death metal blaring from the apartment beneath us. “What’s the one thing we need more than anything in this world?” I ask, leading him up the steps at an accelerated pace. I’m hoping he wont notice the fact it smells as if every cat on the island has marked this staircase by way of pissing on it. I pause just shy of our new apartment and pull him in.

Gage doesn’t say a word. He simply stares deep into my eyes as if he were silently offering an apology.

“Hey, you’re quiet. Is something wrong?” I tighten my grip over him and gaze up at his serious navy eyes, those lips that have yet to crack a smile.

He lets out a sigh and plants a soft kiss over my mouth. “Everything feels right when I’m with you.”

“Ditto.” I trace his lips out with my finger, and a wave of sadness melts over me. I suck in a quick breath and banish all thoughts of dragons and roses out of my mind. I’m not dwelling on a single thing until I talk to my mother. “I think you’d better pick me up.” I turn the knob and let the door squeak its way open. Ellis said he’d get a locksmith out in the morning for us. “I prefer to be carried over the threshold.”

“What’s this?” His brows arch in confusion as if he’s just coming to. He glances around at the landscape as if we’ve somehow appeared from out of nowhere.

“This”—I hold my hands out as if offering a prize—“is our new apartment. Morley Harrison is our new landlord, and the first month is free—so it was kind of hard to turn down.”

A smile cinches over his face—first one in the last fifteen minutes. “This is our place?”

“This is it.” My heart begins to race because we’ve just hit another milestone in our budding relationship—a home of our own. “I hope you don’t mind I went ahead—”

Gage doesn’t let me finish. He scoops me into his strong arms and twirls me into the apartment with a molten hot kiss.

“I don’t mind.” A fierce moan growls out of him, animalistic and primal as his kisses grows that much hungrier. “I’m just sorry I didn’t think of it first.”

“Gage.” I lock my wrists around his neck and land myself back on my feet. “Can you believe it? Thirty days, no Landon house, no—” I stop shy of singling Emma out. “Never mind, it’s just you and me.” I glide my fingers down his body and sink my hands into the back pocket of his jeans. “How about we implement a rule? No talking about anybody else other than me and you inside these walls.”

“Deal.” His lips land on mine, slow and deliberate. Gage takes his time, sweeping his tongue over mine, achingly slow and sad as a eulogy.

My phone buzzes in my jean pocket, gyrating between us. I scoop it out only to see
Mom
flash at the top of the screen.

Dinner at six tonight. Emma and Barron will be joining us. You will be there.

“You will be there?” I give a soft laugh. “My mom has a serious case of sleep deprivation, plus it takes her five months to compose a text. I’m sure she meant
will you be there
.”

“Of course we’ll be there.” He peppers my face with airsoft kisses.

“But it’s our first night.” I look up at him hoping he’ll forfeit the family style sit down for our own family style celebration—the kind that takes place under the sheets. Not that we have sheets.

“We can catch the last ferry.” Gage touches his finger to my cheek, the look of absolute sadness igniting in his eyes. “Dinner with our families sounds nice.”

“Nice? Tad will be there.” I’m quick to remind him. And Emma. Did I mention Emma?

“Trust me, Tad is the least of my worries,” he mutters under his breath. Gage steps back. “Look at this place.” A grin blooms on his face as he slaps a hand over the dusty purple couch. The carpet is the color of rust. The kitchen is bare bones with white enameled cabinets and a counter the size of my laptop.

“Ellis helped me get a mattress for the bedroom, but, other than that, we’re on our own.”

“On our own.” Gage pulls me in and buries his face in the crook of my neck. He inhales, taking in my scent and brushes careful kisses all the way down to my collarbone. He pulls back and lands his watery blue eyes over mine. “I love you, Skyla. Could you ever believe anything else?”

I blink into Gage and his curious words.

“No Gage, I couldn’t.”

“Dinner,” I scoff as Gage and I walk into to the Landon house. “Don’t worry, I’ve already amassed a list of things I plan on taking
home
with us.” I give his hand a playful yank until his dimples go off. Gage was unusually quiet on the way over, and when I asked if anything was wrong, he mentioned he was just a little out of it today.

“Come here.” He pulls me toward the staircase. The sound of happy voices emanates from the dining room, and I try to ignore then momentarily. Barron and Emma’s sedan is out front, so we already know they’re here. “Do you know how much I love you, Skyla?” His forehead creases as he echoes the words he said to me at the apartment.

“Maybe I don’t.” I try my hardest to keep a straight face. “Maybe I need you to show me.” My eyes dip to his crotch a moment.

“There you two are!” Mom snips from the family room, and we speed on over. Her fists are balled up high on her hips. Her eyes slit to nothing as if she were genuinely pissed. “You’re late. Dinner is getting cold.”

“Someone’s short on sleep,” I whisper to Gage as we take our seats at the table. Barron and Emma offer brief hellos, and, to my surprise, Marshall is right here seated by my side looking lean and mean and far too attractive to be in or out of my dreams now that I’m a happily married woman.

Ms. Messenger
. He gives his signature lusty leer, but I choose to ignore it. Before we leave, I’ll have to remember to threaten him in the event he plans another nighttime assault. That’s another thing I’ll have to see my mother about. I frown over at Mom as she tucks Misty up her sweater in an effort to discretely nurse her. Not that mother, but something tells me I’d have just as much luck trying to get a logical explanation out of either one of them on the subject. Why do I get the feeling I’m completely on my own?

“Tad, why don’t you say grace?” Mom nods.

“Grace.” Tad burps it out so fast, Emma blesses him as if he just sneezed.

Mia and Melissa let out a simultaneous chortle. It’s nice to see them getting along even if it is at Tad’s expense. Boyfriends may come and go, but they’ll always have Tad to commiserate over.

Bree and Drake sit across from them, and next to Drake is Emily. Emily! I perk up at the sight of her. Perfect. I plan on grilling her for dessert. I want all the dirty deets on her twisted family lineage and just what the hell that dragon has to do with anything. Who knew this day could only get better?

“Dinner is served.” Mom pulls the lid off a perfectly cooked roast surrounded by hundreds of lusciously bronzed potatoes, and the entire table lets out a collective gasp at her culinary achievement.

“Mom!” Mia cries. “You’ve finally done it! You’ve finally cooked up a decent meal!”

“You’re so rude,” Melissa snipes. “If you really want to know why boys repel from you, it’s because you don’t have a filter on that pie trap.”

And apparently neither does Melissa. I’m getting a little tired of her constant berating of my sweet baby sis. I hate to pick sides between them, but Melissa is making it hard to stay neutral.

“Pie trap? Are you saying I’m fat?” Mia gapes, missing the point entirely.

“Girls!” Tad barks while dishing himself a slice of pink meat and a healthy serving of starch on the side. “It’s dinner with mixed company. Why don’t you both shut your pie traps.”