All Hail the King (Celestra Forever After Book 6)

by Addison Moore

  “Thank you.” She shrugs almost indifferently at him before hugging my neck. “Logan Oliver, take me away.”

  And I do.

  The butterfly room at Whitehorse is a castle compared to the thimble of the original. Skyla takes off her shoes as if we were standing on holy ground before tipping her head back and groaning.

  “Oh, the peace, the tranquility, the lack of Legos and diapers. The boys can never know about this room.”

  A dull laugh rattles in my chest as I pull her as close as her belly will allow.

  “We won’t be here for long.” I land a simple kiss to her lips, and the room, all of time, wobbles in and out of focus until we’re standing in another butterfly room, the original, staring down at the teen versions of the two of us. Skyla sits next to me with the look of absolute adoration written on her face. If I didn’t see it then, I see it now clear as day.

  “Do you forgive me?” the younger version of Skyla asks my younger self.

  “That day.” She sighs, wrapping her arms around me tightly. “Logan, we look like kids, and it was just a few years ago we were having this conversation.”

  “I know,” I whisper as if they could hear us.

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” the younger version of me is quick to declare. “Skyla, I want to tell you everything.”

  Skyla—this one, the one in my arms, chuckles. “It would be a very long time until you told me everything.”

  “Do you forgive me?” I don’t mind parroting the younger version of her.

  “You bet.” She gives my chin a quick scratch as we watch this play out.

  The younger version of me nods. “Chloe was a Celestra, too.”

  “Really?” Young Skyla looks smitten with this idea.

  “Really”—I pause—“I had to break it off with her, but she didn’t want to.”

  “What do you mean had to?” She bats those doe eyes up at him and I wonder how I ever held it together around her.

  “Two Celestra make a very big bull’s-eye.”

  “Oh.” She looks crestfallen by the news.

  “Two Celestra dating are too stupid to live,” this younger version of me says it as if it were gospel, but it isn’t.

  “Excuse me?” She bucks back, affronted.

  “You and I, we can’t see each other anymore”—he takes in a breath—“not publicly.”

  “So, we’ll date in private.” There’s a slight air of panic in her voice.

  “It’s not that simple. We need to take it a step further.”

  The younger Skyla shakes her head as if trying to process it.

  “You need to have a boyfriend,” I insist like an idiot. “A real person who everyone thinks—believes you’re with.”

  I give Skyla a squeeze and she tips her ear my way. “This is the part where I’d like to slap my head right off.”

  Skyla gives a quiet giggle. “You mean before Chloe slices it off in the Faction war?”

  The younger Skyla scoffs. “Who in their right mind is going to agree to that?”

  “Gage.” I watch as I close my eyes when I say his name.

  “Gage,” she repeats. “His prediction—it’s probably a fake marriage.”

  “Let’s hope.” I watch as the old me twists his lips, hoping that just this once Gage Oliver’s prognosticator is broken.

  “So, when does this start?” She blinks up at him as if he truly had all the answers.

  “I think it should take effect now. And trust me. Gage made it clear that he would make this very believable.”

  I give Skyla’s ribs a quick tweak as we watch the doe-eyed pair beneath us.

  “He made it pretty darn believable,” I whisper.

  Her chest bucks. “He should be up for an Oscar.”

  The younger version of Skyla seems to be reminiscing on something, and I remember exactly on what—that kiss she shared with Gage.

  “I know.” It croaks from the old me mournfully.

  “I’m so sorry,” she pleads, but she never had to.

  “Don’t be. I was stupid to let Michelle hang all over me.”

  I nod to the angel in my arms. “I was.”

  Skyla lifts her finger to her lips. “We’re getting to the good part, Oliver.”

  The younger Skyla’s chest trembles, and I wonder if I noticed that the first time.

  “What about you? Are you going to get a girlfriend?” she asks apprehensively.

  “Nope. I’m going to be the scary loner.” The old me tries to laugh off the idea, but it’s lost in translation. It was never funny to begin with.

  Young Skyla writhes as if this were the last thing she wanted to hear. “What would we have to do to be together permanently?”

  “Take down the Countenance.” I watch as I shake my head as though this were impossible.

  Skyla crawls over and sits between my knees. The old me drapes my arms around her, and she leans up and kisses me gently on the lips.

  She blinks up at me. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  Skyla, the one witnessing the spectacle with me, offers a meager applause.

  “And so it begins.” Her voice is surprisingly light.

  “I’m glad you didn’t say it ends.”

  And with that, I whisk us back to Whitehorse, back to the butterfly room that still holds the scent of Skyla’s floral perfume.

  “What was that, Logan?” A laugh gets caught in her throat as she pulls me in by the fingers.

  “That was me penning you a love story, written across the jagged borders of time all those years ago. I was a pretty good scary loner, wasn’t I?”

  “The best,” she says, tugging my shirt off, and I’m quick to help move things along. “Logan”—she pauses as her hands lie flat over my chest, her affect suddenly sober—“we didn’t make a mistake. We did what we had to do at the time to survive.”

  “I agree.” It comes out lower than a whisper, unconvincingly. “But this time”—my voice hikes up a few notches, sure as hell as to what I’m about to say—“I’m not giving you up. You are mine, Skyla Laurel Messenger Oliver.”

  She bites down a smile as I lift the sweatshirt right off her and I bow down and offer her lips a kiss.

  She shakes her head up at me, those long lashes taking me before any other part of her ever has a chance. “It’s not just the Counts anymore, is it?”

  “I don’t care who it is. If they’re not on our side, they’re wrong. They’re all going down, Skyla. And this time we do it together, at one another’s side.”

  She nods, a silent tear rolling down her cheek. “And this time we are going to nail them to the wall once and for all.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  We share a little laugh before we share each other.

  The Barricade, the Counts, the Fems, to hell with them all.

  And to hell they will go.

  24

  Wesley

  August.

  A month rich with birthdays. Eli and Charlie turned one today, and oddly enough, Emma, Kresley, and Laken teamed up to create a backyard bonanza that would appeal to anyone’s inner child.

  Emma initially offered to host the event, but since she has a giant hole in her backyard filled with enough water to drown all of Paragon, both Kresley and Laken quickly shot down the idea. Instead, the party is raging right here at the house Laken and I purchased, in the yard large enough to double as a national park, with enough swing sets, jungle equipment, bounce houses, games, and even a petting zoo to please every living soul under five.

  The child population is relatively small—the entire Landon mini brood, their parents, Laken’s family, her brother Fletcher who has been pissed at me for a good long while, her sisters, her mother, her fiancé, Dr. Booth, his son Rev, his new girlfriend, Skyla’s sister Mia, the other sister, the brothers and their wives—hell, I don’t know if they’re married. Skyla’s entire family is front and center, including the goofy stepdad and the bumbling mother.

  Kr
esley, on the other hand, has just a few friends, Grayson and some mothers from a mommy group Kres is a part of.

  I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad Kres is still a part of my life. We were hot and heavy at Ephemeral, the boarding school the Counts shoved me into. And then when I woke up from a long stupor and realized that Laken was the love of my life, I brutally broke Kresley’s heart. I admittedly put her through hell when I shoved her on Raven’s Eye in Laken’s place a little more than a year ago. Of course, I had her surgically alter her face to look like Laken’s just to pull it off. But Ezrina has since altered it back—in a sense. Kresley was beautiful before, but Ezrina made her stunning. But alas, not even her newfound beauty could sway me from the most stunning woman of them all, Laken Stewart—Laken Edinger. My Laken. My forever. My everything. And now she is about to become the mother of my child.

  I stop my thoughts from moving one inch farther.

  Shit. Did I just say that?

  Charlie is mine. Ezrina confirmed it.

  My gut cinches. Okay, so Ezrina knew what side her bread was buttered on. And as a reward for confirming that Charlie is indeed mine, and she is, I won’t believe otherwise—Ezrina gets an all-access pass to Tobie, the daughter born from her own body—even if she’s not in that body anymore.

  And, of course, Ezrina is equally smitten by Mal, Mally as it were. Right now, she’s all but nursing the poor kid. Little Alice looks miffed. And if I were Mally, if I were any of the next gen monsters to roam this haunted island, I wouldn’t want to get on Alice’s bad side. Something tells me she’ll be ten times the firecracker her demented mother is.

  And believe me when I say Ezrina is grooming her. Oh, yes, she is. She’s teaching her all the tricks and potions and spells that witch is capable of, and I’m betting Alice will be capable of just that and more.

  Maybe Eli will fall in love with her? That might keep him out of her warpath when she’s ready to unleash on the world. A slightly older woman. That might work out just fine.

  But Charlie, Tobie, those sweet girls are getting locked in a tower on their thirteenth birthdays. I’m keeping all the drooling mutts out of their range. They won’t need an army of brothers to protect them from the world. I’m perfectly capable of shielding my girls myself.

  Gage comes up and offers me a water bottle as if it were a peace offering.

  “You look lost in thought,” he grunts as he inspects the crowd along with me. “Don’t do that. Your mind is a dangerous place to roam unsupervised.”

  “I’d say the same about yours. You do realize that twisted mind of yours has dismembered alliances, ate your wife’s people for breakfast, and started another war entirely.”

  “Ex-wife,” he corrects as he shoots a remorseful look her way.

  “I meant Chloe, the current missus. But I can appreciate the way you always revert to Skyla. She’s your Laken.”

  “No, she’s Logan’s Laken. She’s my nightmare.”

  “Nightmare?” I can’t help but chuckle. “I guess that makes sense coming from you. Everything you do is upside down, counterintuitive to what you truly believe. You might be fooling the world, maybe even yourself, but you’re not fooling me.”

  “Well, I’m fooling me, and that’s all that matters these days.”

  “You’re all about you. That sums it up well, brother.”

  “I’m all about the throne and keeping that heavy crown where it belongs, on my head.”

  “You keep doing you. I’ll be the last to stand in your way.” I spot Coop coming up with Laken, holding Laken in his arms as if she belonged there. “What in the hell will finally get this guy off my back? Let’s ship him to the other side of the world. Don’t you have minions in Russia? I think a hard labor camp would suffice.”

  Gage bucks with a dull laugh. “Face it, Wes. He’s never going away. He’s the millstone tied around your neck.”

  “Are you implying he’s going to take me down?”

  “I didn’t have to. You said that yourself.”

  A flare of anger bursts through me. “I’m going to choose to ignore the snide remark. Obviously, you’re pissed because Chloe is the one twisting your dick nightly. And I’m genuinely sorry about that. I know what a demon she can be like in bed.”

  His brows bounce as he gives a hard look across the way, and I follow his gaze to Skyla and Laken.

  “You’ve slept with Chloe by now, right?” A mild thread of alarm strikes me, and I’m not sure why. “Dude”—I knock the back of his knee in until he’s right back to glaring at me—“you’ve given in. Tell me she’s not stewing in her toxic juices because she’s not getting any from the Prince of Darkness. The girl has been drooling after you since before puberty hit. I’ve heard every story of her obsession, twice. Believe me when I say you were the star of our short-lived union. And try as she might want to believe I was you, I wasn’t even a close second in her book. Can you imagine? I’m essentially your twin, and yet she needed the real deal.” I slap an arm on his back. “It must be pretty intense between the two of you.” Gage stiffens as his gaze flits to the woods in the distance. “Ah, shit.” I pinch my eyes closed a minute. “You do realize you need to defuse this bomb. You’re not going to fool Chloe forever.”

  “She just had a baby.”

  “Weeks ago. That Madonna syndrome may have bought you time, buddy, but I have a feeling your time is about to run out. And if you don’t give in, things are going to get ugly. If I see the house on fire, I’ll know why. And don’t be surprised if she’s tied you to the bed. If you don’t feed the kitty, you’re going down in flames. Suck it up. Take it like a man. Think of handbags, sweetie.”

  Gage scowls. “Rory’s exact words.”

  “Yeah, well, if that doesn’t work, close your eyes and think of England. Lie back and dream of the empire. Lie still and think of a new way to trim a hat. Think of Skyla. Hell, you won’t be the first man to bring another woman into the marriage bed.” I shoot a look to Skyla as she shares a laugh with Laken. “On second thought, that might border on heresy considering her history with your betrothed. You’re in a real pickle. And you’ve got to give up the pickle. Not to pull from an athletic company, but for God’s sake, just do it. The first time is the toughest. I should know. I have a history of tough times with both Chloe and Kres. But I powered through it and so can you. If you need a little medicinal help getting it up, talk to Ezrina. She’s on payroll.” I nod over to where she’s holding Tobie’s hand.

  He grunts, “With my luck, she’ll actually find a way to poison me. On second thought, it might be just what the doctor ordered.”

  Laken doubles over and Skyla is quick to navigate her this way. And, of course, Coop gloms onto her side, offering his undying assistance.

  “What’s wrong?” I dash over, breathless, my eyes wide with concern. “Is it the baby?”

  “I think so.” She grabs onto me, her full weight resting against my chest. “I don’t know. I’ve had intense back pains all morning long, and now it seems to have shifted to the underside of my belly.”

  Skyla groans, “Laken, that’s called back labor. We’d better get you to the hospital.”

  “No,” Laken is quick to protest. “Skyla, get Ezrina and meet me upstairs. Coop, you’re coming with me.” She clutches onto his hand as the two of us help her inside.

  Usually I’d be livid that Coop gets to play such a prime role, that she didn’t ask Coop to get Ezrina and hauled Skyla up with her like I think she should have. But a part of me realizes that as each day passes, he’s something akin to a safety net for her at this point.

  I’ll deal with Coop after the baby is born. Gage isn’t going to help. I’ll have to make this look like an accident. I’m not putting up with his shit forever. His days are numbered. I’m sorry, Laken, but it’s for the best.

  We get Laken situated in bed, and she’s already writhing in pain by the time Ezrina runs up with Skyla.

  Ezrina is quick to glove up before she shoves her hand b
eneath Laken’s dress as she pokes and prods around.

  “This one will come quickly.” She nods to Skyla. “Have Heathcliff bring the supplies and the bucket.”

  “Coop, why don’t you go?” I say it stern and Laken shoots me the death stare.

  “Skyla goes.” She picks up Cooper’s hand, then mine. “My two best friends stay with me. Wesley, you’re my husband and my best friend,” she says the emphasis on the fact, and it makes me feel like an insecure jackass. Laken loves me or she wouldn’t be with me. It’s as simple as that. If anyone should be feeling insecure, it’s Coop.

  I kiss the back of her hand and don’t leave her side for a minute as the melee around her increases.

  Her panting becomes prominent to the point I’d swear she’s about to pass out.

  “Wes”—she can hardly get my name out—“I need the drugs now.”

  “Ezrina,” I bark at the witch as she congregates in the corner with her husband and Skyla. “Give Laken something to take the edge off.”

  Ezrina scuttles over and shoves her hand under the blanket covering Laken.

  “Can’t. She’s too far.”

  “Oh God,” Skyla groans. “That happened to me.” She floats over and sits her enormous frame on the side of the bed and the entire mattress nearly tips over.

  “Coop”—I bark—“get Skyla a chair.”

  “Screw the chair!” Laken howls. “Coop, find Ellis and steal whatever the hell he has in his pockets. Now!” she shrieks and Coop is gone in a flash.

  “Laken”—Skyla pleads—“Wes is going to get you through this. Just breathe.”

  “Oh, shut the hell up. Wes isn’t going to get me through this. He’s the one that got me into this mess to begin with.” She glances up at me with a fire in her eyes. “You keep your penis the hell away from me, you hear?” A horrible wailing cry escapes her.

  Ezrina gloves up once again, and soon there’s an array of stainless steel tools by her side, a bevy of clean towels, a basin, and a bucket next to her on the floor.

  “Breathe with me, Laken.” Skyla starts in slow, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and Laken follows suit. Her death grip on my hand could break a mortal’s bones.