Where am I going to get money? Steal from Logan? I shake the thought away.
“I don’t have cash,” I take a breath, “but I do have tons of that crap you’re filling your lungs with. An endless supply, actually.” Then again, she probably does, too.
“OK.” She shrugs.
“Skyla.” My name echoes from the field to my left. I get up in an effort to motion Holden over. Who knew I could find his sister before he did?
But I don’t see Holden.
I see Logan—and everything in me freezes.
Chapter Forty-Two
Count the Ways You Love Me
Pale whispers of straw struggle to survive through the gravel of the overflow parking lot. Just beyond the lot, a vigorous forest stands tall and proud, not burned to ash like the one at West, although technically it’s still thriving there, too.
Logan reaches down and tries picking up my hand, but I pull away.
“Voices,” I say, laying my palm flat against my chest. “So which Logan are you? Past, present—future? The Count that’s going to kill me?”
“I saw you bolt into the restroom with Kragger then waited two seconds for you to come out.”
“Oh, that one,” I say, lackluster. “So, did your supervising spirit, tell you where to go? How’d you find me?”
His head ticks to the side.
“You don’t know why you’re here, do you?” Logan looks genuinely surprised at my ignorance.
“Holden was feeling all sentimental and wanted to see his sister.” I point back at the bushes that house Emerson. Wait a minute…if everyone on campus knows where to find her, why did he bolt in the opposite direction? Holy crap, I really don’t know why I’m here.
“He’s taking advantage of you.” Logan grinds his teeth. “Why are you being so nice to him? Why would you go anywhere with that monster?”
“I feel stupid, OK? Let’s just find him and get back. I have a very important date with Gage that I don’t plan on breaking.” My head starts in on another pre-explosion tantrum causing me to suck in a breath and close my eyes.
“You’re not OK, are you?” He wraps an arm around me. I press my face into his chest, feel his warmth, take in his familiar scent and feel safe again.
“You’re safe.” He presses a kiss down over my head. “I promise.”
“Tell me what Holden is up to,” it comes out weak, laced with doubt that Logan will tell me anything, factual at least.
“He went to Chloe for an infusion—old Chloe. She’s not putting out anymore, platelet-wise. She let both the Kraggers know she’d turn them in for Emerson’s murder.”
“Emerson? But they didn’t kill their own sister,” I shake my head at the thought.
“They sort of did,” he sweeps over me with his gaze, sad and tired. The deep lines around his eyes accentuate as he squints into me. I reach up and thread my fingers through his ashen hair.
“I don’t love young Logan anymore, but I love this one,” I breathe the words.
His chest rises with a short-lived laugh. “You’re mad at young Logan, but I promise, he more than loves you. Everything I’ve ever done was to save you, protect you.”
“Gage loves me.” I take in a deep cleansing breath to rid myself of the emotional felony I’ve just committed. “Gage would do anything for me.” I want to add, too, but I leave that part out. “Why did they kill Emerson?”
The bell rings. Emerson rises out of the bushes and walks towards the gym, clad in all her Goth glory.
“They were doing a blood transfusion in the basement of a coffee shop and her body rejected it. She thought she was going to be just like Chloe—she had a heart attack instead.”
“Who told you this?”
“Chloe.”
“When?”
His lips pull into a line. He cuts a look into the forest before blowing out a breath.
“A while back.” Logan pulls me close and drops a kiss on top of my head.
“There’s more, but you won’t tell me. Am I right?”
He lets his silence speak for him.
“Well, then. At least you’re working honesty from some angle. Why would Chloe siphon her blood then try to infuse Emerson? She’s hardly the giving type. From what I understand, the Kraggers were already sucking her dry.”
“Emerson had something on Chloe. Something she swore she’d never tell if Chloe gave her the ultimate infusion.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“Not sure.”
“Do you think Pierce or Holden know?”
“It’s doubtful. From what I understood, they were against the transfusion from the beginning.”
“Because they thought it might kill her?”
“Because it diminished their supply significantly. After Emerson died, Chloe bartered with them on a regular basis using her blood as currency until she disappeared.”
“Before I killed her,” I state the correction just below a whisper.
A fragile wind picks up and blows my hair away from my face. A dark set of clouds roll in and cover the sun as though abolishing the world from a sin. This is the Paragon I know, rife with melancholy, secrets so thick you could build a bridge and walk across them, but they’d never take you to the truth. They’re simply capable of breeding more questions—a trap door within a trap door.
“You did what you felt you had to,” he picks up my hands and gives a light swing. “Forgive yourself, Skyla.”
I’ve been dragging around the guilt of slaughtering other human beings, but I would never admit to myself one of the people I felt guilty about killing was Chloe. It haunts me to think I’m capable of the very things I’ve accused people of.
I look down at Logan’s fingers interlaced with mine. I can’t help but feel an all-encompassing security just having him here. It’s strange how we’re bonding over, of all things, Chloe’s death.
“Um,” I swallow hard. “Tell me what you’re doing with a supervising spirit.” For once I feel as though he might answer and not leave me with more questions than I had to begin with.
“I’m loving you. That’s what I do in the past, present, and future, Skyla. That’s all I’ll ever do.”
Chapter Forty-Three
A Moment Like This
It took forever to wrangle Holden back. My cell actually worked! Which sort of scared the shit out of me, but nevertheless, I’ll be curious about the extra charges I might have accidentally incurred.
I head straight to Gage’s room at the lodge, and give a series of anxious knocks. I’m not entirely opposed to breaking another lock tonight, although that would mean we couldn’t shut the door, and the last thing I want is a potential audience.
Gage answers, wrapped in a towel. The sharp scent of soap emits from his skin, his hair is slicked back and dewy, just the way I love it.
I step inside and bolt the door.
The reality hits me as soon as he melts me into a kiss and my hands touch his bare back that he might actually be naked under that towel. I mean, of course, he is. Everybody is naked under a wrapped damp towel, and suddenly everything is feeling far too real for me. I can’t imagine seeing Gage naked. It’s going to be strange and wildly exciting, but nevertheless, strange.
He flicks off the lights, leading me towards the back. The curtain is wide open, and the light from the parking lot casts a dull orange glow in the room.
“This one,” he says, guiding me over to his bed, the covers already pulled back. He keeps his lips secured over mine and reduces me to cinders with hot ripe kisses before pealing off my jacket, my sweater.
“Oh, so this is it?” Of course, this is it. I’m so stupid. What did I think was going to happen? We were going to sit down and have a discussion? Strategize?
My heart thumps so loud it’s like I’ve got an entire percussion section tuning up in my chest. The room kind of smells, but I try to ignore that.
He grunts a little laugh. His eyes are glazed over and his hands won’t stop roving up and
down my back. It’s like he’s gone animal on me, which I sort of don’t mind.
Gage delivers mind-numbing kissing. His warm hands pull up and down my torso, creating smooth warm rivers of pleasure.
I love Gage.
It seems like a strange moment to begin professing my love for him, but really, I just want to show him, express physically what I can never seem to do justice verbally.
I indulge in a stream of wild kisses down the hard ridge of his neck, the supple skin on his chest, pausing to take in his scent, not the manufactured one he covers himself with from a bottle but the one unique to him. My hands run down the incline of his back, land up over his bare bottom—my eyes fly open with surprise.
OK—first of all, I had no idea his towel had managed to drift off his person, and second of all, holy freaking shit—he’s naked!
My entire body seizes. I try to focus in on the fact he’s kissing me, but in truth, he’s a little too close to the spot on my neck where Michelle chewed off a hunk of flesh. The bandage I slapped on only covers about half the damage.
I try and relax, let my hands drift back down to the base of his back. This is new territory. Honestly, we should take things way slower because I’m sort of just getting to know his backside. I can’t even think about introducing myself to the front.
Thank God this isn’t Logan. Thank God Gage can’t read minds because he would have totally rolled me off the bed by now.
“Hey,” he pulls up on his elbow as a smile digs into the side of his cheek. “I don’t need to be telepathic to know you’re uncomfortable.” He strokes the hair away from my eyes.
“No,” I protest a little too loud. “Not at all. I was just sort of caught off guard, you know, with the whole towel thing.”
I try to ignore the fact that he’s sprawled out next to me in all his birthday suit glory right now which totally confuses the hell out of me. What am I suppose to be doing? Should I grab onto it with both hands like a fire hose? Maybe I really should have had that talk with Brielle. I’m so lame. My eyes can’t even move south of his face. I’m sure Gage is totally rethinking this whole boyfriend, girlfriend arrangement.
His dimples dodge in and out as though they were trying to communicate with me, tell me it’s OK.
The peach light pouring in from the parking structure torches him with color—exposes all of his splendor in far too much detail. If he told me he were immortal, something supernaturally formed by God and delivered as a gift to all mankind, I would believe him. His extraterrestrial beauty leaves me stupefied. I glance over him in this strange dreamlike state and take in his form, artfully avoiding the region below his waist as though it were a revelation with too rich a knowledge for me. Gage is a beautiful creature. He holds himself out like an offering, and all I can do is I pull in and relax into his arms.
We start with smooth slow kisses, textured with our love. He holds me respectfully, groans into me as though this were enough, as though this were all he ever wanted. Then, with perfect pitch I’m right there with him. I kick off my shoes. Our kisses intensify as the room combusts with our lust—kisses like embers.
The sharp scent of vinegar and chips swells up around us. It takes over my senses. Soon, it’s all I can think about it.
“What did you guys eat in here?” I whisper. Not exactly words anyone wants to hear in the throes of passion, but I swear it’s reactivating the time bomb in my head.
“Nothing. We eat in the cafeteria,” he runs his tongue up my neck in one continuous motion.
I give a sharp sniff just to be sure my nose isn’t playing tricks on me and sure enough the stench of vinegar is lodged in my nostrils. I pull up on my elbows and look around. My eyes adjust as the landscape of the room comes to life around me. Unmade beds, towels tossed around at random, jeans, t-shirts, sweaters lining the floor like carpet. I lean further back on my elbows and something cold and wet rubs against me.
“Yuck.”
“What?” Gage comes up from air, leaving my entire midsection wet from his kisses. An icy shiver runs through me as I pick up a…sock?
“Gross,” he snatches it from me, and launches it across the room.
I pull back the pillow, revealing a pile of highly defiled, heavily soiled footwear.
“Shit,” Gage swats them off the bed and sits up next to me covering himself with the blanket. “I bet they were saving those up for us all week.”
I’m sure Logan enjoyed planting those bacterial breeding grounds as a token of his affection.
Gage gives an easy grin while pulling me over to him. I start in on a slow giggle that builds to an all out laugh.
“I guess this isn’t the right hotel room after all,” his brows arch as if to affirm this.
“Are you sure?” I hold the offer out there.
“The last thing I want is dirty socks to embed themselves in your memory.” He traces out repetitive soft circles across on my thigh. “You deserve rose petals on the sheets.”
I give a little laugh.
“You’re all I need in my bed, Gage.”
I pull him back down to the pillow and give him a kiss he’ll remember—make sure he’ll never look at a dirty sock the same way ever again, although he might now want to keep one around as a memento.
The room combusts again as we practice all the necessary maneuvers for that holy grail of a first time that seems to keep eluding us.
Chapter Forty-Four
The Talk
Saturday, our last day, Ms. Richards insists we do what we came for, the ski competition.
A dense white fog that can only be described as a cloud settles over the mountain. It looks like the sky has fallen, literally, and we’re in it. We are the gods and this is Mount Olympus.
Marshall and I resume our positions at the base of the mountain. We watch the competition as East shoves its ski boot right up West’s ass. Logan, Gage, and Chloe have each been walloped by their East competitors in two different competitions.
Marshall is ornery. His skin is pallid, his eyes bloodshot. He looks downright haggard, as if he hasn’t slept in months.
“Have the Fems been after you?” I whisper as we watch the last members of the West ski team drift down the slope in defeat.
“They have rather enjoyed tormenting me in my dreams. But something far more sinister is out to get me,” he gravels out the words, “gravity and the ebbing of time, the atmosphere in general has been after me. I can’t grasp how you manage to look so put together wallowing in this misery day after day.”
Michelle scissors next to Emily and Lexy as they make their way in the line for the ski lift. They’re about to do a bitch squad trio up an advanced run and this almost amuses me.
I relay the series of events that occurred with Michelle last night.
“And you expect sympathy?”
“Marshall,” I balk, disbelieving. “Yes, for both of us.” I pull down my scarf, revealing an amazing scab the size of a fist.
“That’s fast becoming infected. I’d seek medical attention if I were you.” He gives a brief look of disgust. “I’ll see to removing the artifact from Shelly’s finger.”
“And the necklace?”
“Not the necklace.”
“Why not?”
“What’s this sudden interest in the accessories of you adversaries?” He twists, plagued with morbid curiosity.
“I thought it might be a good idea to, you know, befriend her.”
“Well, you know, befriending her may not pan out to be the stroke of genius you think it is.”
“Why? We can double up on Chloe.”
“You forget. It’s Chloe who’s constantly on the attack with Michelle, not the reverse. Shelly, still reveres her as her stealth leader. She’s a good little sheep.”
“Who’s a sheep?” Brielle slides into the table next to us and spikes her pole into the back of her skis in an effort to free herself from their bondage.
“I gotta go,” I whisper, turning in Brielle’s direction.<
br />
Marshall pulls me back by the shoulder.
“My former glory should reconstitute within hours,” he whispers. “I have retribution to tend to regarding paraphernalia that was stolen from me as well as a certain matter to do with the three inch gash in my side. That’s right, Skyla. I haven’t forgotten,” he gives me a gentle shove in Brielle’s direction.
Perfect. Can’t wait to see what body part he’ll snap off in payment for the spirit sword incident. Suddenly, I’m not so hot on protecting Logan of all people, but really, I thought I was protecting Gage.
I let out a heavy sigh as I scoot in next to Bree.
“Wow, you and Dudley look pretty serious.” She bites down on the salacious grin ready to explode all over her face. “I’m totally OK with it, though. I don’t want you to think there’s weirdness between us just because we slept with the same guy.”
I just sit there with my jaw on the floor. She knows darn well I’m into Gage—that I’m supposedly with Gage. Why the sudden memory default? Unless, of course, she thinks I’m with both Gage and Marshall, which in her world would totally make sense.
“Yeah, well, I haven’t done it yet.” I lean in secretively. “With either of them.”
“Oh,” she draws the word out as though it were a huge oversight on her part. “Dudley’s perfect. He’d be a great teacher,” she squints into an unexpected laugh. “Get it? Teacher?”
“Yeah, real funny.” I look over at him and he arches a brow as though he’s heard the whole thing.
“I don’t know about Gage though,” she takes off her knit cap and shags out her hair. It’s wet in the back from perspiration, curling up in neat copper coils. “Chloe seems to like him. Says he really knows what he’s doing—shows up Logan by a landslide. Says he’s the size of a baseball bat.”
“What?” I squawk. “She has not been with Gage.” And if he is the size of a baseball bat maybe I should have peeked last night while I had the chance? What am I saying? Chloe wears lies like a crown.
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