The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  “Good riddance,” I say, running my hand over my blooming belly just as it lights up like a swirling glowing globe with some serious climate issues. “Crap,” I hiss, pulling my red velvet cape over my ginormous baby bump, but it’s no use. It’s dark enough out to look wildly suspicious. “Please, knock that off in there,” I say sweetly.

  “Aw,” Laken coos. “She’s talking to the babies.”

  “She’s reprimanding them, and they’re not listening,” Coop points out with a smile. “Perhaps a sign of things to come?”

  “You’re not funny, and neither is this. I’m like an electric current these days. If you stand close enough, I can charge your cell phone.”

  “What do you think it means?” Laken carefully touches my baby bump, and it illuminates brighter just under her fingers.

  “It means Agent Killion and Agent Moser will be able to close their case soon and head back to Washington with their first specimen. Me.”

  “Now that’s not funny, considering they’re standing right over there.” Laken nods toward the barn, and, sure enough, I spot them dressed in matching silver foil jumpsuits. “I think they’re supposed to be aliens, which is an irony in and of itself.”

  “If they were smart, they would have dressed like angels,” I’m quick to point out.

  “Or devils.” Coop wraps his arms around Laken, still staring off in that general direction. I follow his gaze and find Wesley in their midst.

  “Wow, there’s a shocker.” I want to laugh or cry, but all I can muster is a grunt. “He’s all but given them a roadmap to the Nephilim people. I bet he’s stumped as hell as to what’s become of his little exercise in futility known as the Immunity League. Good thing that rat bastard father of his gifted me Tenebrous, or I wouldn’t have known what to do with—” Oh my shit! Someone should really staple my lips shut for good. Good thing I stopped cold turkey before I spilled all the nasty details. I’m not sure how Laken would feel about me reopening the tunnels, even if it were for a worthy cause.

  “Tenebrous?” Coop is intrigued with the idea I can tell, but I’m afraid I’ve opened that can of worms as far as I care to for the evening.

  “What do you mean—gifted you Tenebrous?” Laken steps in, ready and willing to block my path in the event I decide to waddle away. “He gifted you the tunnels? Why would he do that? What are you going to do with them?”

  Laken is really too smart for her britches. I’d love to pull an oh, look, shiny! But she’s no Bree or Giselle for that matter.

  Logan comes into view with Liam, and I can’t quite make out what they’re supposed to be outside of their normal selves.

  “Oh, look, Logan!” He’s much better than anything shiny. Logan has a shine all his own.

  Laken turns just enough, and I take the opportunity to wobble right past her. Both my glowing bundles of joy and me hightail it over to the Oliver side of Marshall’s immense estate.

  “Happy Halloween.” I flash my illuminated belly at Logan and Liam a moment before covering it back up under the red velvet cape. The threadbare dress I’ve donned underneath it is hardly able to contain the brilliant luminosity.

  Logan takes me in his arms and buries what feels like a kiss on my neck. “Just humor me,” he whispers, hot and sultry, as he single-handedly takes me to the brink of the big O with simply a whisper—damn Kegels.

  “Sure,” I say, carefully untangling our limbs, lest I tremble to completion right here in his arms under the watchful eye of all of Paragon and the government—not to mention Logan’s telepathic capabilities. “What’s going on?”

  He pulls me in, and we begin to sway to the rhythm of the slow song currently seeping through the cool night air.

  Logan settles his amber eyes over mine, and his side lying dimple goes off. “Would you believe I just wanted a chance to hold you in my arms?”

  “I’m hardly in your arms.” I glance down at the glowing mass between us. “I’m more like hardly within your grasp. What gives, Oliver?”

  A hard tap comes over my shoulder, and I turn, fully expecting to see Lexy Bakova in her sex kitten du jour costume, but it’s not petite, perky Lexy. It’s Grayson, Kresley’s breasty BFF. Normally, I wouldn’t reduce another girl down to bare boobs, but honest to God, she’s a walking mammary gland. I’ve only seen one other woman so proud to bare her tits—I hate using that word, but Gage says it so often it has sadly morphed into my lexicon—and that other chesty woman would be Demetri’s niece, Isis, aka Taddy Dearest’s main breasty squeeze.

  “Buzz off,” I say as I try to maneuver my body closer to Logan’s by moving my bump to a more convenient position.

  “I’m cutting in.” She slips her arm between us like a skin-covered anaconda, and we begin a threesome sort of a move.

  “You can’t cut in, because I’m not letting you.” I look to Logan for help. Surely he’s not going to let another woman get between us, literally.

  “I think I see someone I need to say hello to.” Logan graciously bows out and steps away from both of our grabby hands. “Skyla—perhaps you should join me?”

  It takes a lot of focus not to stick my tongue out at her. I don’t think I’ve stuck my tongue out at a single person, well, maybe Gage once or twice, but that was an act of seduction.

  I heard that. Logan rattles my hand as he treks deeper into the crowd.

  I choose to forgo the fact. “Looks like Lex has some heavy hitting competition.”

  “That she does.” He gives a wistful smile. “But I’m not into either of them. You know that. And I want to keep reminding you, because my soul is buried in that beating heart of yours, and I never want it back.” Logan leans in and brushes his thumb over my cheek ever so softly. “I want you to keep it safe inside of you forever.”

  The babies give a heavy wallop, and it’s not until he bucks do I see that his arm is resting on my tummy.

  “It looks like someone has an opinion about that,” he muses.

  “Sorry.” I give my belly a pat and lean in toward it. “You’re going to love your Uncle Logan. He’s harmless, I promise.”

  He winces as he gives my belly a rub as well. “I hate that I’m harmless.” Logan leads me right into Landon Central. Mom and Tad are showing off their bean sprout, Misty, along with Beau to a couple of friends dressed as salt and pepper shakers. It’s not until they pull back the mesh that covers their faces do I see that it’s Emma and Barron.

  “And what are you two supposed to be?” Emma smirks at the sight of Logan and me as if we were a couple. Her eyes ride down to our conjoined hands in judgment. It’s as if she’s saying I knew it. How I’d like to knock her over on her salty side and watch her roll down the embankment. How far do I have to go to prove that I’m madly in love with her son?

  “I’m Little Red Riding Hood, and Gage is the Big Bad Wolf.” My entire body warms with pride. The idea of a couple’s costume should speak volumes to Mrs. Salt and Mr. Pepper.

  “And I’m an ex-jock.” Logan gives his old West T-shirt a tug. “An ex-dead jock to be exact.”

  “Speaking of dead.” Tad starts to ramp it up. Just crap. I don’t know why my mother allows him to leave the house. “You’re lucky the Mrs. isn’t pushing up daisies! Funerals aren’t cheap, you know. That lousy fifteen grand your insurance company ponied up would have never covered the funeral expenses.”

  Barron leans in, his glasses poking through his ridiculous costume. The fact his wife coerced him into dressing like a condiment for the evening begs the question just how much does Emma love Barron?

  “Actually, fifteen thousand can get you a lot more than you imagine for your money. People tend to believe funeral expenses are unapproachable, but the truth is, we have packages to accommodate even the most frugal of budgets.”

  Swear to God, there is dead silence in a ten-foot radius. Barron really knows how to kill a conversation, no pun intended.

  Mom holds up her walking cast for a moment. “On the bright side, this contraption comes off in the
morning!”

  “But the emotional damage will linger for years!” Tad is quick to point out. “She’s seen three psychologists, and not one of them can figure out what the hell is wrong with her. We have an appointment to see that nut job that let you go a few years back.” Tad says it so casually I’m not entirely offended. He’s taking about Dr. Booth. I’d better track him down before the night is through and give him a heads-up.

  Hey! I just had an interesting thought. If Dr. Booth and Laken’s mother marry, Laken will be quasi-related to Rev. And, if Rev and Mia ever get married, we’ll all sort of be family. I shake the not-so-interesting thought right back out of my head. Mia may not marry Rev—not now, not ever, not in this universe, or any alternate dimension. Gah! Pregnant brain attacks again! I don’t want that rebel without a cause anywhere near my kid sister, let alone putting a ring on it. He’s all but cheating on her in the open and convinced her to do the same. And are they still having their secret meet-and-greets on the side? I don’t even want to know. All I do know is that the dog they share custody of, Bullet, aka D-O-G, keeps reappearing at the house every now and again just to take a giant shit on the carpet. The dog itself is so large and quiet it’s mostly just a living ottoman that eats and stains the rug.

  “I’m sorry about everything.” Logan doesn’t waste time in trying to figure out exactly what to apologize for and simply goes for the gold. “I’ll talk to my insurance and see if there’s anything they can do to help cover any mental health fees you might incur.”

  “No.” My blood turns to lava just thinking of the ways my mother and Tad are trying to fleece poor Logan. “The bowling alley is not a goose that lays golden eggs. It’s more like a chipped cup that no one has the heart to throw away, and it’s hurting financially just like the rest of us.” As silly as it seems, it felt incredibly adult to put myself in that financially pained category. Come to think of it, that sentiment will most likely ring true my entire life.

  I reach down and wrap my hand around Logan’s fingers. I totally didn’t mean that chipped cup analogy. I just want Tad to feel like the ass that he is. And trust me, our entire cupboard is full of chipped mugs. I was essentially speaking his language.

  “Ha!” Tad balks at the truth as if he knows better. “He’s got you fooled. That meathead you married is cooking his books. I know for a fact what he’s making because good old Greg left the laptop open last week.”

  “Tad!” Mom whacks him.

  “What? It was at the dining room table. Everybody knows there are no secrets at the dining room table. Zippo!” He wags a finger at Logan. “It’s because of those slippery floors of yours that my marriage is in peril.”

  Dear God.

  “My wife can’t even hobble up the stairs to the bedroom. It’s been an entire month of no nookie for me.”

  I take in a sharp breath. Nookie? Did I hit my head? How is this happening?

  Emma groans, and poor Barron looks physically repulsed by the idea. That makes two of us.

  “I have a solution.” Logan sags, wavering his worn-out smile I’ve seen one too many times since the end of the Faction War. Come to think of it, dealing with the Faction War was probably easier for him than dealing with Tad. “How about instead of cleaning out the bowling alley, you take my house at White Horse?”

  “No!” both Emma and I shriek in unison. Finally, something we can agree on. Or at least I’m pretty sure we agree on.

  “Excuse me?” Tad straightens as if suddenly ready to listen.

  “It has a ground floor bedroom, and you’re welcome to stay there as long as you like. That way the two of you can sleep in the same bedroom and resume your—nookie, did you say?”

  Shoot. Logan sure is cute when he’s turning up the charm.

  “I don’t know.” Mom shakes her head. “My cast is coming off tomorrow, and Skyla is about to have that baby any minute.”

  “Take her with you. She and Gage can take the entire upstairs. It’ll be like their very own place. There’s plenty of room for a nursery and even rooms for Misty and Beau. And then when you’re a hundred percent better, Skyla and Gage will have a place to call their own—until, of course, their new home is ready.”

  So that’s where this was headed. My lips twist as I contemplate Logan Oliver’s brazen sneakiness.

  “No thank you,” I say it as sweetly as possible. “Gage and I don’t mind staying where we are until the house is ready. But I promise, if we do get cabin fever and our house isn’t ready, we’ll take you up on it.”

  Logan locks eyes with mine. His sincerity bleeds through to the bone. “Thank you for at least considering it.”

  A loud pop and a crash emit from somewhere inside, and Mom spasms.

  “I’d better go see what that’s all about.” She gives Tad a firm tug. “Why don’t you come in the event I need backup?”

  That’s one way to keep a muzzle on him.

  “Logan”—Emma leans in, perturbed—“I will never understand why you bankrupt yourself building a house that you never intend to live in. And now, trying to pawn it off on the Landons?” She gags as if offering it to my family was the ultimate cry of desperation, and in a way, it was. “Is there something wrong with it?”

  “No—nothing at all. I just—I’m a little lonely there. I hope you don’t mind me at the house now and again.”

  “You’re always welcome,” Barron says it in the event Emma won’t. She can be iffy. “I enjoy our late-night talks and poker. You still owe me thirty-seven dollars.” He winks at his brother.

  “There’s one sure-fire way to cure your loneliness,” Emma says with a strange determined look in her eyes. “We’ll just have to find you a good woman.”

  Kill me.

  “No thank you,” Logan says it with a fevered undertone as if he didn’t want to induce some jealous rage in me. If I can withstand Lexy Bakova throwing herself at him, and Grayson’s boob attack, I think I’m good.

  “Kresley Fisher was destined to be my daughter-in-law.”

  “Kresley?” I will cut a bitch.

  “Emma!” Barron throws his arms in the air, because for one, he understands what an insult she just gave me.

  “Please, I practically raised this boy.” She dusts Logan’s shoulder as if readying him for his moment in the sun. “Kresley is a beautiful girl both inside and out. As soon as she and Gage arrive, I’ll arrange for you to have some private time.”

  Gee, throw in a condom, why don’t you?

  “Wait, did you say ‘she and Gage arrive’?” I lean in a bit. “As in arrive together?”

  “Yes.” She blinks as if it were common knowledge. “Gage and Kresley always commute together from their night class.”

  “Their night class?” I’m suddenly simultaneously amused and pissed. When was Gage going to fill me in on this little witch tidbit?

  Giselle hops over, looking every bit the cute playboy bunny she’s inadvertently dressed as. “Don’t you love it?” She wiggles her fluffy little cottontail at her not-so proud parents. “Ellis helped pick it out! He says bunny love is his favorite.”

  Gross. If Harrison doesn’t die by Gage’s hand, he just might meet his maker by way of Barron. I’ve never seen his face this shade of purple.

  “And hello to my little dolphin niece or nephew.” Giselle rubs her pink satin bottom over my belly, and Emma actually groans.

  “Please, Giselle. Do not refer to the baby as a dolphin.” She glares at me as if it were all my fault. It is, but that’s beside the point. “Skyla, explain to my daughter that, though you will give birth to a mammal, it will not be of the aquatic variety.”

  Typical Emma ruining everything for me. “There’s an off chance I might have a dolphin.” I bite down on my lip. There’s something in me that demands to make Emma insane. Besides, if there’s anyone to blame for Giselle’s massive misgivings regarding human reproduction, I’m betting it’s Ellis—who, by the way, is responsible for just about every other misgiving Giselle has about the human rac
e.

  A tall, rather well-built wolf-looking creature catches my eye from the edge of the woods. He gives a slight nod toward the evergreens before ditching into the darkness and away from the party. It looks as if I’m about to claim my prize for the night, and I’m going to enjoy every last Kegel-loving minute of it.

  “Well, I gotta run.” I take a step away, and Logan slides over, blocking my path.

  “Where to?”

  “I just saw Gage by the woods,” I whisper. “I think he wants me to ditch the ’rents, if you know what I mean.”

  “Got it.” He dons that sad smile once again as if he knows I’m simply making up an excuse to get busy with my husband in the woods. “Coop and Laken are inside. I think I’ll track them down.” He starts to take off, and I catch him by the wrist.

  I’m not sure what to pinpoint for the deep ache that’s settled into my heart at the moment—the wicked night, the sudden rush of serendipity for who we were, who we could be, the fact that a part of me wishes I could turn back time, and even then I wouldn’t know what to do with it. Tears come as I wrap my arms around him.

  Someway, somehow we will survive this. I say, not entirely sure of what exactly I mean, but with everything in me, I know those were the right words.

  I know. He presses a kiss to my cheek just shy of my lips and speeds out of sight.

  My feet lead me toward the woods where I spotted Gage a moment ago, but my cheek still burns like a live coal where Logan planted that softer than air kiss. Then it hits me. This will never get easier. Not now, not in a million years. That’s just something I need to accept—that we both will. Maybe it’s time Logan and I have a hard-hitting conversation. Perhaps we’re long overdue on that.

  The evergreens engulf me in their black shadowed wings as I follow a thin seam of moonlight down to the stream that runs through Marshall’s property. The dark figure of a man leans against the railing, his knee casually up on the lower rung, his hands spread wide as he relaxes his sexy self with that inviting come-hither look in his Big Bad Wolf eye.