Entropy (The Countenance Trilogy 3) (2 page)

My body and soul sag at the mention of Wesley’s name. He’s become a lead straightjacket that holds me down to a past that Wes himself doesn’t believe in. “You mean the fake body.”

Coop and I dug up Wesley Parker’s grave and found nothing more than a wax replica. The picture I tucked into his suit pocket just before they closed the casket was right where I left it. But I know for a fact the boy I kissed, his cheek cold and hard as marble, was my Wes. And my heart still aches for that boy.

“It’s important Wes knows.” Coop brushes his thumb over my cheek. “Things are going to get sticky, Laken.”

I press my lips tight and nod like a child. Cooper is right. If Wes is told the truth, there’s a chance he might remember. What would I do then? It would be a tragedy to wrap my heart around two different boys. But in a strange way, it’s already happened, and I don’t know how to let go of either one of them. The fact that Wesley fully belongs to the Counts is both a blessing and a curse. I can never be with Wes as long as he pledges his allegiance to a bunch of celestial assholes.

“A blessing and a curse.” Coop gives my hand a squeeze because he heard every word. A sad smile pours from him. “I agree that’s what our love is weighted on. Laken”—he presses my name out soft as a snowflake—“I’m not going to blame you for anything that happens once Wes learns the truth—just know that forever you will hold my heart.”

My chest lurches as I resist the urge to bawl. Coop is noble and far too generous as far as my affections go. I’d like to thank him, repay him somehow, but what do you give someone who’s opened their heart to you? Dinner? A movie? I don’t think so. Instead, I hike up on my tiptoes and crash my lips to his, hard and desperate.

Cooper greets me with hungry, exquisite, very-much-wanted kisses. I hadn’t made a habit of kissing Coop. I explicitly told him I didn’t want to be the girl that ran around kissing two boys. But I hope this sends the message, with actions far more than words could ever do, that Cooper Flanders is the only boy that my tongue wants to explore. Old Wes may hold a piece of my heart, but my future lies with Cooper Flanders—every molecule in my body vibrates in agreement. This is real. This is right. Our future is paved with an unstoppable love, our foundation built on trust and friendship—passion hotter than a funeral pyre. What Coop and I share is God-breathed. Destiny rewrote our paths in life so we could collide in that forest last summer. It was never for Wes and I to find our way back. It was for Coop and I to find our way to each other. Intrinsically I know this much is true.

Cooper and I were meant to be.

We were already happening.

Cooper

The Paragon fog presses in around us like a membrane, encapsulating this moment as Laken and I share our love through a long, beautiful kiss that can safely be described in one word—
flawless
.

Laken Stewart. My body sings over hers as our arms and tongues struggle to get enough of one another. In truth, I could never get enough of Laken—not sure I would want to or if it’s even possible. I don’t ever want to find out. I just want Laken. I want her to consume me like this with her tongue buried in my mouth. My body is dying to bury far more intimate parts into hers and make her wholly mine in the best way possible. I can’t bear the thought of that not happening—of
us
not happening. Laken is an entire ocean that I jumped into the first moment I looked into her pale, blue eyes. I was all in before she said one word.

Laken pulls back, her eyes moistened with tears. “An ocean? You are so incredible. You know that?” She shakes her head. “You have the most amazing way with words.”

In all honesty, I wasn’t even mildly aware of the fact she might be listening. I’m too far gone to care at this point.

“It’s the truth,” I whisper. “Every last word.”

Laken giggles into me, her tears all but gone. “I like us.” She leans up and takes a gentle bite out of my bottom lip. “Nothing makes me happier than the thought of you and me.” She pinches her lips together as if it were too much to bear. “There’s not one ounce of sadness that enters my heart when I think of you.” I know there is with Wes, and the fact that I’m the anti-Wes is more than a little flattering. “I want you for
you
, Coop. There’s no other reason. You have to believe me.”

“I do.” I sink another kiss over her lips as our tongues find one another again. My stomach drops as if we were on some gigantic roller coaster, and it feels damn good. It feels damn good to have Laken lounging around in my mouth like she wants to be here—and the fact she does makes my chest pound because I won a race I didn’t even know I was qualified to run in—the one for her heart.

Laken trails kisses all the way to my cheek. “You did win the race for my heart,” she whispers directly into my ear. “And as soon as we get back to that hotel room, I plan on wrapping myself around you like a medal.”

My eyes fix on hers. My arms wrap tight around her body to keep myself from quaking at the thought of having her that way.

“We don’t have to hurry,” I assure her so fast I almost buy the lie.

She shakes her head just barely. “I want to. You’re the only person I ever want to be with. You—your
body
—you’re my family, my home.”

“Home,” I repeat the word lower than a whisper as I pull her in. “You’re my home, too. And I’ve never felt more like family with anyone.” I give a wry smile. “You might want to keep that tidbit from Marky.”

Laken bubbles with a laugh at the mention of my little sister.

“She loves you as much as I do,” I say. It’s true. Marky has already put Laken in the big sister role.

“And I love Marky.” She bites down on her lip seductively. “We’re going to have our whole lives together. I can see every season, every holiday with you by my side. I don’t want to waste a minute, Coop.”

“I promise you, not a minute will be wasted.” I press my lips against hers and linger in the heated exchange. This feels holy and right and not in the least as if we were sneaking around behind someone’s back. There’s no way this is wrong. There’s no way this is some accident. This is home.

A group of girls cackle their way in this direction in various stages of Halloween undress.

“This is it,” I whisper, walking Laken over to their midst. Three of the girls are in short skirts, body parts hanging out for all to see, and way too much makeup. The tall brunette is dressed as an overgrown mermaid and looks uninterested as the other girls chatter away about how much they can’t stand a person named Chloe.

“But we need to stay strong—
together
.” The one with dark curly hair pouts. “They don’t call us the Bitch Squad for nothing. We’re a team,” she spits it out tough as nails. “Get over it, Lex. She’s a bitch. You’re a bitch. We’re all a bunch of bitches.”

Laken shoots me a look as if this small group of mean girls intrinsically offends her. Something tells me the “Bitch Squad” offends a lot of people.

“Excuse me?” Laken calls to them in a friendly voice, and the girls slit their angry stares in our direction.

“Yeah?” The shorter girl growls, her teeth glint like fangs.

“We’re looking for a girl—Skyla Messenger.” Laken takes them in as they each make an equally disgusted face. Looks like Skyla fell out of favor with the Bitch Squad. “Can you guys point me in the right direction?”

“She’s back there somewhere.” The drill sergeant with dark curly hair barks it out.

The shorter girl, with the precision cut, sticks her foot out defiant. “She’s busy with her boy toys.” She eyes me up and down while crossing her arms. “You’d better watch your boyfriend. He’s cute—has a sweet face—exactly Skyla’s type. And that bitch always gets what and who she wants.” The three of them take off, leaving the mermaid to straggle behind.

“Hi.” She comes across shy and sweet, and it’s hard to believe she belongs to the Bitch Squad. “I’m Giselle—I mean
Emerson
.” Her face lights up with embarrassment even under this defused light. “Giselle is just some stupid nickname.” She looks down at her waist a moment as if it weren’t that stupid, but she doesn’t want to go there. “Anyway, Skyla is somewhere near the dance floor. You’re not going to be mean to her or anything, are you?” There’s an innocence about her that reminds me a lot of Hattie, as if she, too, were somehow displaced from another time and thrust into modern society.

“No,” Laken is quick to assure her. “We like Skyla. We just want to ask her a few questions.” Laken squeezes my hand.
Why don’t you go look for her? I’ll talk to Giselle. I have a feeling she has more to hide than her name. Something is definitely up.

“Don’t move.” I press a kiss just shy of her ear. “I’ll scope out the crowd and be right back.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

I leave Laken alone with the mermaid as I make tracks across the expansive lawn. I stop shy of an overgrown fountain with roses encircling it like a wreath. This place screams pretentious to the hilt. There’s no doubt in my mind that a wicked being is behind this just as Laken suspected.

I glance around at the crowd of demonic costumes, girls exposing far more of their bodies than they ever would on a normal night and guys lining up to drool in droves. Over on the patio of the gargantuan estate is a slightly older crowd than the one on the dance floor. I spot a woman with wild hair, dressed like a cavewoman with a baby papoosed to her back, and next to her an all-too-familiar figure.

My blood runs cold. My body seizes. This is no wicked Counts’ estate. This very much belongs to a Fem, and the Fem in question is Demetri Fucking Edinger.

He cuts a look my way, and a black smile curls on his lips.
Do what you must, Flanders. Destiny is calling.
He wraps his arm around the cavewoman and leads her back to the entry until the mansion swallows them up.

I head onto the dance floor, weaving in and out of the bodies that congest the area. I spot Logan, Skyla’s Elysian, off to the side as he glares into the crowd and follow his gaze until—bingo. He’s stalking her like prey—like I would if Wesley were dancing with Laken. And, holy shit—Wesley is dancing with…Skyla?

I thread my way over, never taking my eyes off her until I come up behind them.

“We
are
still technically dating,” he says to Skyla, and my stomach bottoms out.

What the hell?

“Never for a minute do I feel like we broke up.” She glances down, and now I feel like I’m about to interrupt some private moment, but this is Wes, and I’m still confused as to what he’s doing here.

“Skyla,” he whispers over her cheek, and it’s about all the bullshit I can handle for one night.

“Excuse me.” I tap onto his shoulder ready and willing to clock him if I have to. I’m over coddling, Wesley Paxton, Parker, whoever the hell he feels like being tonight.

Skyla looks at me from around his shoulder, and her face lights up.

“Coop!” She leaps into my arms, and Wes shakes his head unimpressed at the sight of me, then his features soften, and something about his eyes gives away the fact he’s not Wesley at all. This is some lookalike, a dead ringer on the other side of the country with a kinder, softer spirit.

“What’s going on, man?” He offers up a quick knuckle bump, so I meet him halfway.

“Just came by to say hi to Skyla. You mind?” My heart thumps hard several times like some warning that it’s about to peter out. This guy isn’t Wes, and now I really want to know what the hell is going on.

He nods over to Skyla as the music shifts to yet another slow song.

“I’m okay with it,” she says, and he gives a depleted smile.

“I’ll see you in a minute.” He bears into her. You can cut the affection he has for her with a knife. I recognize that pained look of tortured love in his eyes. It’s the same one I hold for Laken.

“I would love to dance with you, Coop.” Skyla takes up my hand, and we begin to move cautiously.

I pull him in, and we begin to sway to the music with a nice, platonic clearance between our bodies unlike Gage who practically dry humped me a second ago—not that I was opposed to the idea.

“Um”—I rattle her hand with mine—“sorry, but this thing is on.”

“Oh, right.”
Crap. Cooper has Celestra blood, so, of course, he can hear me.
“You clean up nice, you know that?” She pulls back and runs her eyes over me. Her mouth contorts a little surprised at the amount of Kansas soil I seem to be sporting.

“Yeah, well”—I glance down—“I sort of went on a grave-robbing expedition, you’ll have to excuse me. But you look very nice, yourself.”

“Grave robbing, huh? Well, you chose the right night.”

“I’m not sure it’s ever a good night for that.” I rein in my thoughts in a meager effort to maintain some privacy and shoot a glance in the distance for the Wes lookalike or Laken. Right about now they both have me concerned.

“Did you heal okay?” She cuts a quick glance to my neck before rolling her eyes. “Of course, you healed, you’re a Celestra. We always heal. So who do you think won the war? I mean my mother’s—”

“What war?” My heart lurches in my chest, and if this keeps up I’m going to have a full cardiac episode.

“What
war
?”
Dear God, he’s got more in common with Logan than I thought.
“Coop, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“All right, here we go.”  I take a deep breath. “Skyla, I just met you in the Tenebrous Woods. I’m time traveling from two years ago in the past.” Just the thought of a war makes me sick. I already feel like I’m in one with Wes. “Is the country going to war?”

“No.”
I had no idea the Coop asking me to dance was such a blank slate.
“It’s a faction war.”
She shakes her head, emphatic.
“And I guess the reason you don’t remember me is because we haven’t technically crossed paths yet. I don’t know if I should get into it. Just know you kicked some ass—and your friend, Flynn, was okay for a
while, too.”

Flynn? I guess he outlives his Spectator state. “I don’t know if I’d call Flynn a friend.”

“You did, so I guess things must improve. What’s going on?” She cuts a quick glance around as if suddenly on alert.
“What brings you to Paragon?”