“You bet your ass you will,” he seethes. “Don’t ask for any more favors. You’re not getting them. Enjoy the wedding night. I couldn’t think of two people who deserved each other more.”
I pull him in and offer up an embrace that perhaps he never wanted. “I owe you.”
“Yes, you do.” He pulls back, still glaring. “But you can never repay me for the things I’ve done for you.”
Wes and I head back to the groom’s room and do a quick change both with our clothes and the color of our eyes. We head back out and Wes makes a beeline for Laken and snatches her from Coop’s claws as if he were plucking her from a fire and he just might be.
Cooper Flanders is the only soul outside of Wes who knows the truth, and that’s exactly what scored him an invite. Cooper is making inroads, and if my brother isn’t careful, he’ll be more like me than he cares to. Watching the love of my life linger in Logan Oliver’s arms, her head on his shoulder as he whispers words of comfort into her ear is an agony I wouldn’t wish on anyone. But he could never truly comfort her. It’s me she craves.
Logan comes at me with Nathan in his arms trying to kick his way down. The boys are almost too long, too heavy to hold like that anymore, and it grieves me.
“I don’t know what to say.” Logan’s brows bounce as Nathan kicks me hard in the chest as he struggles to get to the floor. Both Logan and I share a warm laugh as he puts him down and he darts back into the crowd. I have no doubt he’s safe here, so I don’t bother chasing after him.
“I think congratulations is the word you’re looking for,” I say as I inspect the jovial crowd. The music has picked up and there are waiters and waitresses hobbling around with champagne.
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s far from that word. More like I’m sorry.” His serious eyes meet with mine. “As in I’m sorry you felt the need to do this. I’m sorry you can’t understand how deeply you’re wounding Skyla. I’m so very sorry that somewhere between here and eternity, you have lost your damn mind. I’m sorry I let you get away with it because I am certain the old you, the one that I believe is the true blue version, would say that I let you down. I should have tied you up, found the spirit sword that has the power to disable you, even if it is temporary, and hacked you to pieces with it.” He starts to tear up and takes a deep breath. “Mostly, I’m sorry that I can’t be there for you. I can’t stand beside you like a brother and help you navigate this new life of yours because I don’t understand it. And Chloe.” He shakes his head as he says her name below a whisper as if he were afraid to summon the demon. “In a few short months you’ve damned us all to hell. And for what? Demetri? The fact you feel a bleeding homage to a form of wickedness that you would have died to protect us from just a few months back? I’ve never seen such loyalty turn on a dime. I’ve never seen or imagined anything like this. A fire has consumed you. A passion to watch the world and the woman you love burn to the ground has gripped you. All I can think is that whatever evil was lying in wait in your DNA has finally unleashed, and here we are eating shit from the fallout.” He blows out a deep breath.
“Feel better?” It comes out genuine, heartfelt. I want him to get it all out because in all of this madness I need to have Logan to turn to even if it is superficially. Having Skyla detest the sight of me is the plan—but Logan, I still very much need him. He is my only connection to that genuine part of me.
He grimaces. “You don’t get it, do you? No, I don’t feel better. Do you know why? Because tonight, just like that first ridiculous wedding night of yours, will kill Skyla. Do you know how much torture it is to realize that the one you love is pouring out all of their physical affection on someone else? Her imagination will skewer her. The fact it’s a reality will bring the flames.”
Shit. “Be with her tonight. Don’t leave her alone.” There’s a pleading in my voice for him to do it. And here come the words I dread. The next big sacrifice on my list that I am not looking forward to. “Do whatever you need to do to bring her comfort.” The words come out soft and low as if my vocal cords wished they had remained unspoken. As much as I understand all of my actions are nothing more than a road map to bring Skyla together with Logan, it hurts like hell to think about it. “With you, I know she’s safe. With you, I know she can be happy once again. She’s still in love with you. She has never stopped. I have never doubted that.” And yet, I have never doubted her love for me either. Skyla has my entire heart, and once upon a time I had hers, too.
He offers a half-smile my way, his hands gliding into his pockets as if he were amused. “She’s sleeping with Dudley.”
“What?” It thunders out of me without my permission.
Logan moans, “Knew it. You still love her. You still care about her.” He shakes his head while examining me. “It’s true, though. He has been impaling your beautiful wife with his oversized dick and she has not protested the endeavor. In fact, she’s initiating it.”
My vision is red with rage, my veins pulsating with their own heartbeat, and I’m moved to rip this entire building apart with my bare hands. In some sick way I liked the thought of controlling where Skyla’s body went next. And the thought of her going to Dudley, the thought of him touching her that way, the unimaginable thought of her wanting him to do it, makes me furious—even a little furious at her. How dare she do that to me. How dare she—
Chloe comes to mind, and for a brief moment I taste a touch of what Skyla must feel and I hate myself even more than I already do.
I glare at Logan, because truthfully, he’s closest and I wouldn’t mind crashing my fist through his jaw for letting this circus ride.
“Fix this shit,” I say as I start to take off and he yanks me back by the sleeve.
“I am fixing this shit.” Logan pulls me in close. The rife look of anger on his face pleases me just enough. “It’s your shit I’m trying to clean up in the event you didn’t notice.” He gives me a hard shove before taking off in the crowd.
I watch as he heads to Skyla—Skyla whose eyes look laced with crimson and the sight lacerates me from the inside out. They scoop up the boys and head for the exit just as Chloe comes over, dressed in blood red, her hair wild, framing her face with snakelike tendrils.
“My husband.” Her lips curl with the promise of another blowjob. Newsflash, it ain’t happening, sweetie. She turns and does a double take before dragging me by the hand to the foyer where we cut off Logan, Skyla, and the boys at the pass. “Leaving so soon?” There’s an uptick of glee in her voice. A not-so-subtle fuck you to Skyla. I think we can all hear it. “We haven’t even cut the cake. Boys? Would you like some cake?”
Both Nathan and Barron chirp for cake and look to Skyla, pleading.
Skyla shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Mommy’s tired and so are you. We’ll stop and get something to eat on the way home.”
Logan gives Barron’s hair a quick tussle. “Burger Hut is giving out prizes with every kid’s meal.”
The boys dance and shout with unmitigated joy at the thought of finding a prize with their burger, and I would give anything to be heading out with them.
Chloe scoffs. “I’ll save cake for you. But just a piece.” She leans in toward Skyla. “I’m all about watching their sugar intake. Emily is helping me work out a meal plan so that when they’re with me their diets will be similar to that which they’re accustomed to. And, of course, it’s all up to your approval, Skyla. I’m not about usurping you in the mothering department. I know my place when it comes to the boys.” She sheds a toothy smile as her arm slinks around my waist and she pulls me in.
Skyla’s eyes follow that move, so I conform to Chloe, making it look as if her lunacy is reciprocated.
Skyla looks to me, her sweet eyes settled over mine, but there’s a deadness inside of her. “Make no mistake about it. Chloe is in this room because I allow her to be.”
“We’ve covered this,” Chloe snips as she turns my way. “Skyla is doing that whole if-you-love-someone-set-them-free crap.” She giv
es my cheek a quick peck and it felt like a slash of jagged glass against my skin. “Isn’t she above us all? I for one am thankful. But I guess you could say all those years I witnessed the two of you together I was doing the same.” She winks over at Skyla. “So congrats to you for taking a page from my playbook. And now that you and Logan are a couple, we need to get together more often. Family dinners, double date nights. Skyla, I think you and I can work on forming a genuine friendship now that we’ve sorted out who we really belong to. I’ll admit, it stung a bit to know you liked my brother more than you liked me.”
Skyla offers a bleak smile that dissipates as fast as it came. “I still like your brother more than I like you. You’re a beast, Chloe. I hate that my boys have to spend a microsecond with you, eating your cake. I hate that you feel like you won on some sick level. A small part of me feels sorry for you, but that part is shrinking every day.”
Chloe clutches her stomach. “You’re upsetting the baby, Skyla. Positive thoughts only, please.”
“Chloe.” Skyla shakes her head just barely. “I meant what I said. I’m going to have to kill you. And I’m still ambivalent if it will be while you host life in your belly. You have skipped so far outside of our covenant that it’s unreasonable for you to think otherwise. I own you far more than your new husband does. And if my mother decides that death is not for you, well, then I will sure have a hell of a time trying. I think I’ll try to strangle you with your own intestines. A slippery endeavor, but, my, the fun I will have trying to make it work.”
Chloe recoils in my arms. I can feel her holding her breath and every muscle in her body freezes. “Gage would never let that happen to me.”
Skyla leans in with a dark laugh percolating in her chest. “Gage doesn’t have a say in it. And not a force in the universe can stop me.”
Chloe’s dark eyes glitter with fear as she shoots a brief glance my way. “Skyla”—she calls out as Logan scoops up the boys—“I’m still for our people.”
Skyla pauses as a breath escapes her. “You’re for nobody but yourself, Chloe. Go home and get yourself off with your new husband. But don’t think this travesty won’t come with a price.” She looks to me, her icy eyes painfully piercing mine. “You will both pay for sinking me in this misery.”
They take off and I watch the exit long after they’re gone. Paragon is weeping, crying rivers, letting out every emotion that I cannot, and I’m cheering it on.
Late in the evening, after successfully evading all of Chloe’s aggressive advances, I head to the butterfly room, the one I built in the Walsh house for Skyla while my new wife, Chloe, cries herself to sleep, unwanted and unloved on this, her second wedding night. Sorry, Chloe. Wes isn’t here to impale you with all of his affection, and I am not feeling up to the deed. Not now, not ever. Chloe’s ego is too big to admit that we have a chaste marriage, and I haven’t figured out how to get Wes to do the deed again. Hell, I know he won’t. So Chloe’s frothing vagina will have to find another way to satiate itself.
I sit in the dimly lit dungeon I’ve created. It was built to bring Skyla joy, and now it only brings her pain, much like everything else I touch. I am Midas in reverse. Everything I look at turns to stone. Useless and lifeless.
A butterfly begins to flutter as its cobalt wings illuminate the dark, and the sight of it mildly alarms me.
A spark of light ignites, a slow ember building until a form takes shape, familiar golden hair, eyes that shine like stars, that face—that body I know it well, but I don’t know her.
“It’s you again,” I grunt, morbidly disappointed to see my wife’s sister stealing her every nuance. “I have no doubt Candace sent you here to torment me.” A smile tugs on my lips without my permission as Rory stalks forward, and it’s not until she steps out of the shadows do I see she’s naked.
“Now, now, my mother has nothing to say about how I choose to spend my time.” Her cool fingers run through my hair, over my scalp, and fall against my forehead as if checking for a fever. “What’s a handsome groom like you sitting in a dark room like this?”
An explosion of electric blue butterflies burst to life as they begin fluttering around the room like spastic bats—as if they were afraid—worried for me.
“What do you want?” I say it lower than a whisper.
Her hips sway just shy of my face, rounding out, grinding like a stripper who knows her way around a pole, her smooth ass landing inches from my mouth.
“I want to make you feel better. Let me heal you, Gage. Let me do the things to you that my sister isn’t allowed to do anymore. Think of how much better you’ll feel. You’re depriving her of your love, starving her out of your affection. Your heart has proven to be hard as stone, your false anger toward her palpable. But when I see you like this, sullen and morose, your new bride cuddled with a pillow soaked with grief, I know you still feel for Skyla.”
“You want to know my motives.” A dull laugh thumps through my chest. A spy, a very nude, very convincing spy. A part of me wonders if Skyla herself sent her.
“I couldn’t care less about your motives.” Her shoulders pump and her tits bounce, mouthwateringly large and so very much like Skyla’s.
Skyla, who I will never again touch—that body I will never again get to worship in the way that I want. Rory is testing me, wearing me down.
“Now what would you do if Skyla was here? What part of her body would you kiss first?” She tilts her head to mine, her knee settling in my lap. “Would you have the nerve to kiss her on the mouth?”
I stare up at this clone of my wife, this beast who is in theory everything I want and need. An opportunity has arrived. Here it is, a meager attempt to have my cake and eat it, too. Just an hour or so of fun. An hour or so of believing that I am with the real deal. An hour or so of aggression, of affection to pour out on this innocent, scratch that, most likely not-so innocent girl.
“No.” My voice gravels out like a threat in the darkness as the butterflies dance, casting their spell, convincing me that I’m in another butterfly room entirely, with another girl, the only girl for me. “I would kiss her here.” I spin her around and land my lips where they should only ever be, on my wife’s ripe bare bottom, and then I take a bite.
So it begins. I’m with Skyla again and all is right with the world, for just an hour or so.
11
Logan
There was a time not so long ago where the sight of Gage Oliver’s head bobbing in blue keeping solution jarred me. Each and every time I came down to Ezrina’s lair, the Wonderground as Lexy dubbed it, which extends miles beneath Paragon proper, it would startle me. But now that time has passed, now that I see what an asshole the new Gage can be, this old piece of him, that looks so painfully like the new version, it brings me comfort.
“Oliver,” Ezrina calls from the counter where a plethora of microscopes sit in a line. “Come.”
I head over and peer into the one she’s pointing at and moan, pretending to understand the red fidgeting cells that appear to be dividing.
“It’s time.” She looks up at me with those bloodshot eyes, her hair dyed a horrid shade of red and wild as a tumbleweed.
“I’ll do it,” Ellis barks it out with a sense of pride as he, Coop and Brody Bishop emerge from the room next door—an entire cavernous space filled with large glass tubes, glass caskets essentially, each one filled with blue keeping solution. There is nothing but stark white walls down here—the floors, the counters, tables, it’s a virtual white-out with the exception of that blue keeping solution. I let Ezrina have a say in designing her new lab and she kept the monochromatic color scheme she had in the Transfer. It’s a beautiful sight really. The pleasant ethereal glow adds an aura of romance. But the romance will end shortly because today is the day the four of us are heading to hell, quite literally, to haul up as many Spectators as we can to fill those tubes.
“Ellis”— I squeeze my eyes shut a moment—“Ezrina is talking about the virus. She wants a human test subj
ect. That’s what we’re getting the Spectators for, remember?”
“No.” Coop shakes his head. “We’re getting the Spectators so that Ezrina can revitalize them, God willing. They never asked to be a party to this.”
Brody grunts, “When they sided with the Barricade, they not only surrendered their good senses, they surrendered their life. They’re prisoners of war, Flanders. We can do whatever we want with them.”
Coop’s eyes go vacant a moment, and I know what he’s thinking. Laken is a prisoner of war, and Wes is doing whatever he wants with her. It’s true in effect. And nobody, not even Coop himself, has the power to do anything about it. Although, he seems to have lost his angst as of late. I would even venture to say he’s got a pep in his step. His eyes are lit up from the inside and his face glows like a man who has hope. And it makes me wonder what he’s cooking up behind the scenes.
I know for a fact Coop is privy to something. He was vague with all that decoding bullshit a few months back. He’s holding back just enough truths for himself, and I have no doubt he is using them to his advantage. And I’m starting to think that advantage has everything to do with Laken.
Laken is as much a part of his DNA as Skyla is mine.
“Brody is right,” I offer. “We can do whatever the hell we want.” I look to Ezrina. “But I don’t want to kill or torture. That’s not us. That’s not what this is about. So if the procedures are painful, anesthetize them. Go to the brink of death if you have to, but not further.”
Ezrina tips her head back. “Understood.” Her crimson-stained eyes travel to Ellis. “But I need a fresh body. The Spectators will get the rough-cut version. I’ll need to refine my technique on someone whole, healthy. You will do nicely.”
Ellis pumps his fist. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Shit,” I seethe at the thought of Ellis getting himself killed. “Skyla can’t know about it.”
All Hail the King (Celestra Forever After Book 6) Page 20