“Just your loved ones.” Demetri squints out a grin. “Isis, my niece, is in town. She’s eager to make new friends. She just finished up her doctorate, so if you could humor me be calling her Dr. Edinger, it would please me ‘til kingdom come.”
“The Kingdom will come.” Marshall sharpens his tone. “And all of the travesties of justice will revert themselves. Oh, how I’d loathe to be in the judgment seat.”
“I’d love to meet your niece.” Mom dips her knees at the thought while ruining the perfect cadence of hatred between Demetri and Marshall.
“She’s wonderful.” His eyes sparkle with laughter. “Just ask Skyla. They’ve already met.”
Isis?
In the tunnels—that’s what he called the worm in the globe.
I pull bleak smile.
The only Isis I know has turned into a big, giant snake—much like Gage.
Chapter 13
Love Me
After saying good night to both Logan and Marshall, I head up to my bedroom to decompress for the evening.
The sound of running water in my bathroom catches me off guard—probably just Chloe scouring the toilet with my toothbrush.
A shadowed figure emerges with a far bigger frame than the janitorial jackass I thought it was. It’s not Chloe at all. It’s her not-so-better half—Gage. His hair is freshly slicked with beads from the shower still clinging to the tips. He’s wearing a T-shirt and old sweats I had borrowed from him a while back.
“Lucky for me, half my closet migrated over.” His dimples push in without the benefit of a smile.
“Sounds unlucky for me,” I say, shutting the door and locking it in the event I feel like committing a felony.
“Hope you don’t mind—I cleaned up.” He says it low, pulling up his T-shirt as if threatening to pluck it off.
“I mind everything about you these days,” I say, taking off my sweater revealing my tank top underneath. I step out of my boots and unbutton my jeans slow and methodical, peeling them off until I step right out. “OK, you got the show. Now get the hell out.” I head into the bathroom and rake a brush through my hair.
The very distinct sound of the dresser gliding across the floor echoes off the walls, and I rush back into the bedroom.
“Excuse me?” I say, posturing in my boy-shorts in the event his gaze should wander south of my chin. I hope Gage Oliver dies a slow and painful death while thinking about what he lost. I hope he dreams of touching me every single night only to wake up and discover it’s nothing more than wishful thinking. The idea that Chloe is the nightmare that waits for him should make him want to hang himself off the nearest bough.
“Skyla.” He depresses out my name like a song full of sorrow.
“No words.” I cut the air with the underlying threat.
He gives a nod and lifts a finger toward the ceiling and the lights go out.
How’d he do that?
An anemic stream of moonlight filters in from an abnormally clear night on Paragon. Gage comes over and brushes my lips with his. My entire body sizzles with heat at his command. And here I wanted him to die a slow death by way of never touching me again. Sadly, I can’t seem to invoke that punishment on him just yet.
My heart picks up pace, my breathing grows erratic. I want to tell him to leave, to go to hell—to Chloe’s, but I invoke my own stupid maxim and ban my vocal cords from leaking a sound.
Gage dips in again with a gentle kiss that lingers.
My entire person goes rigid, stiff as a statue. I know what’s coming, and I can’t control it. No matter how hard my head shouts no, my heart and hormones out roar its efforts.
He runs his hands over my hips, rabid and hot like an out-of-control brushfire, and I pull my neck back from the pleasure of it all.
A burst of rapid kisses assault my neck before adhering to my lips like a cold drink of water in the vast thirsty desert of my newfound anger. I plunge my tongue into his mouth like diving into the ocean and reintroduce myself to his lingual landscape fast and furious as if we’ve only minutes to live.
God, I miss Gage. I miss the old Gage who I thought really loved me, who I believed cared and whose heart I shred to pieces with my own deception.
I pull off his shirt, run my open palms against his chest and feel the hard ridges of perfection that striate across his flesh. My thumbs circle the inside of his sweats. I open the elastic wide and send them sailing to the floor with minimal effort.
Gage pulls off my tank top, unhitches my bra in an Olympic-worthy maneuver and lands me on the bed in one heated kiss.
It is all out passion—kisses that sear through time and an entire hotbed of lies—right past the hornet nest Chloe pushed us into a very long time ago before either of us understood who we were.
An inferno ignites over the sheets. His bare stomach touches mine, and I press him in, digging my fingers into his back. I want Gage covering me, loving me—inside of me.
I ride my hands up his thighs, bristle the hair on his legs as I round out to the front of his boxers, and feel him grow.
He lets out a jagged hot breath in my ear and sighs over me.
“Not like this, Skyla.” He dots the tip of my nose with a kiss. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” He nuzzles his face into my neck, then disappears.
***
The morning of Demetri’s kickoff to summer party is suspiciously bright and sunny. I’m still reeling from those hotter-than-hell kisses, that entire heated exchange that took place in my room last night with my mortal enemy, Gage.
I open my window to cool myself off and call for Nevermore, my favorite human trapped in a Raven. Well, he’s the only human trapped in a Raven’s body that I know of, but still.
Nev swoops down from the top bough of a pine. He darkens the sky with the batting of his wings, spastic and furtive as he lands, then hops inside my window rather unceremoniously.
I touch my palm to his back, take in the cool of his feathers and pet him gently. Nev is enormous for a bird—the size of a small toddler.
“Guess who’s a big fat traitor?” I assault him with my pent up rage before uttering a simple hello.
Ezrina?
“Nope, my mother agreed to give you guys a new trial after the faction war. Isn’t that great?” So much has happened since prom, I hadn’t had a chance to tell Nev about his upcoming reprieve.
Great, but I doubt the Justice Alliance will magically yield different results. He shivers, stretching out his wings before retracting them. You do realize they would have to admit they were wrong the first time they handed down the sentence. This can only result in a harsher punishment. You know not what you’ve brought upon us.
“And what if it works and you’re both free?”
We won’t be free. These are lasting covenants—binding agreements were made. This is far more than eternal—well, on her part at least. One faulty arrow and I cease to exist forever.
“So what are you saying? My mother is going to host a fake trial to get me off her back, and the two of you will be worse for it?” Knowing my mother, the most diabolical plan possible is the most believable and true.
Precisely that. Now back to the subject at hand, who is the ‘big fat traitor’ in question?
“Gage.” I sit down on the bed next to him and sulk openly at the thought.
Master Oliver?
“More like Disaster Oliver.” I fill him in on the heartache Gage inflicted upon me. “Can you believe he snowed me over like that?”
No, Skyla, I can’t. Nev jerks his head back and opens his beak. I smell a rat. That boy loves you. I’ve never seen a love so pure since…
“Since that of your own?” Boy, Gage had him snowed, too. “I bet just before he decided to gift me his bird, he subjected you to a ton of ‘spontaneous’ verbal proclamations of his false affection for me. He’s nothing but a first class bullshitter.”
There’s bull being tossed about, all right, and it’s not coming from Master Oliver.
; “Nev! You’re supposed to side with me.” OK, so he’s not obligated but geez, it would be nice.
A harsh knock explodes over the door as Mia yells for me to get downstairs. Something about opening a café.
“One more thing before I go,” I say. “Just thought you might like to know, as of last week, I’ve officially been captured by the Counts.”
Nev lets out an ear-piercing cry, so loud, so viral, it can be heard for miles.
Chapter 14
The Menu
As I make my way downstairs on this, the cursed morning of Demetri’s summer soirée, I’m pleasantly surprised to find my olfactory senses filled with the familiar scent of deep fried pig flesh, which I mostly associate with Brielle’s house next door. It’s a nice change of pace since Tad tends to stray from cannibalistic tendencies and thus has declared all pork products off limits to the entire Landon clan and me.
I trot into the kitchen to find Mia and Melissa at the helm, working shoulder to shoulder to rescue this family from its artery blocking deficiencies.
A piece of paper has been hastily adhered to the fridge, it reads Mia’s café all food $1.50.
A bevy of mouthwatering dishes are listed that I’d gladly surrender my entire paycheck for, including grilled cheese sandwiches with three slices of premium cheddar, peanut butter and jelly with no crusts, turkey and Swiss with pesto.
“If you want to see a real menu, look on the counter.” Melissa snipes from over her shoulder.
A neatly laminated piece of blue parchment is printed up in a fancy script. Landon Bistro. Figures. The only thing my sisters have in common these days is the fact they’re competitive.
“So who gets to cook for you, Skyla?” Mia glares at me accusingly.
“Well, it looks like you’re almost done.” I shrug.
“Knew it.” Melissa seethes as she turns to Ethan. “It’s us against them. Eat my food or die.”
“If I eat your food, I will die.” He belches before reaching in the fridge for a soda. “Yeah, whatever. Gimme something to commit a slow suicide with.”
I speed over to him and resist the urge to wrap my hands around his neck for housing the enemy.
“Where’s the demon you slither around the sheets with?”
“Getting a Brazilian.” His lids close halfway as though he were witnessing the epilation of her pubic region firsthand.
“Why are you still with her?” Obviously he’s mental. “Never mind.” I acquiesce to the hopelessness of trying to drill logic into a Landon’s brain.
“Morning!” Mom waltzes in, chirping like a bird. The smile melts off her face as soon as she spies the debauchery taking place in the kitchen. “Girls, I don’t want you to make a habit out of this.”
Tad comes up behind her and sniffs like a basset hound.
“You’re ordering from me, Daddy.” Melissa evokes her I’m-a-two-year-old-princess voice that sounds decidedly like Carly Foster.
Mom looks past my shoulder, and her face brightens. “Look who’s here!” She belts it out so jubilantly, I half expect to see Demetri materialize in the room, but it’s not the malignancy I thought it was. It’s a rather benign apparition of Drake and Brielle.
“I spent the night.” Brielle plops down at the table and accepts the orange juice my mother offers. I suspect Mom is going to turn up the volume on the brown-nosing routine now that things with baby Beau have entered hostage negotiation status.
“Is the baby here?” Mom grapples for hints of all things infant, even goes as far as peering down Bree’s top and for good reason—she’s hidden him there before, case in point—the hospital.
“Are you kidding?” Brielle bleats. “I need some freaking sleep. That kid thinks the entire world revolves around his stomach.”
“Well, he is a boy.” Mom tries to make light of the fact.
“And he is Drake’s spawn,” I chime in.
Mom shoots me a dirty look. “I wouldn’t mind taking the nightshift.” She manufactures an apprehensive smile. “I could even go over to your house if you like.”
“No thanks.” Brielle eyes her suspiciously as if my mother were fully capable of conducting a baby heist. “My mom and I have it all under control.”
Mia hands me a plate of food that looks and smells like heaven.
Mom twitches her lips, like maybe a baby heist really is in her future. “So, have you brushed up on what parenting techniques you’re going to implement?” Mom is insistent on grinding down Brielle’s last nerve with her special brand of crazy.
“Parenting?” Brielle looks genuinely confused at the concept in general.
“You know,” Drake interjects, “bedtimes and shit. The kid’s up all night because you don’t put it to sleep at a decent hour.”
“No.” My mother closes her eyes. “Beau Geste is an infant. He needs a schedule, not a bedtime. Infants eat all through the night, Brielle.” She nods into her assuredly. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Thank you.” Bree glowers at Drake.
It’s sort of a miracle they can stand to be in the same room, let alone spend the night together and both wake up alive.
“If you haven’t found a decent diaper service yet, I happened to stumble upon one the other day.” Mom plucks a coupon from the counter. “First month is half off.” She marvels as she hands the paper to Brielle.
“Cool.” Brielle straightens. “So they’ll come out and change him whenever? They should erect a statue to whoever thought of this.”
I lean in and inspect the tiny square. “No, it’s for cloth diapers,” I say. “But I bet you’d make a gazillion dollars if you started a baby changing service.” Just saying.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” She drops the coupon as if it were on fire. “That kid needs to wear two diapers at once just to keep the bodily fluids in.”
“I could change him.” Mom masks her desperation by feigning a look of indifference.
Dear God almighty. I’m about to suggest Tad haul her to the bedroom and knock her up just to get her the heck off Brielle’s back. But somehow my vocal cords can’t produce those impossible words—nor can the cursed visual leave my mind.
“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask.” Mom wrinkles her nose, forewarning us of the absurdity to come. “Did you happen to save the placenta?”
“The pla-what?” Brielle cocks her head at my mother as if she’s speaking another language.
“You know, the afterbirth,” Mom whispers the last word and for good reason. “It looks like a giant liver.”
I suck in a breath at my mother’s viral insanity.
Figures. The one single meal I’ve looked forward to wolfing down in this house in a good long while sits patiently before me, and yet, I suddenly want no part of it.
“Gross!” Brielle manages to look more than mildly offended.
“It’s not gross.” Mia is quick to defend her mother’s psychosis. “My friend’s mom just had a baby, and they planted it in the ground along with a tree.”
“The baby?” Brielle bounces back in her seat at the thought of a live infant burial.
“No, stupid,” Mia barks. “The gross liver thingy.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t waste it like that.” Mom is quick to rebuke the idea of reducing it to compost. “I’d turn it into a smoothie or jerky.”
“Holy Joseph and Mary!” Tad sends pieces of his breakfast shooting across the table like a missile. “You don’t eat human baby parts. You just don’t.” His face explodes with color. “Your obsession with infants and digesting their body parts has come to an end.”
Mom doesn’t look amused by his non-supportive outburst and fries him with lasers of hatred. “The human placenta is filled with nutritious benefits, one of which is creating a fertile environment. At my age, I’m going to need all the help I can to have a baby, and if having a placenta smoothie or two helps—I won’t count it out.”
“That’s like some pretty satanic shit.” Ethan is quick to observe. “Like voodoo or somethi
ng.”
“Anyway, I’ll ask my mom.” Brielle shrugs. “But I’m pretty sure all I had was the baby. Maybe it’s just older people like you who have their livers come out after?”
Mom crimps a smile. “On the bright side”—she doesn’t let us out of her batshit belfry just yet—“we’re all going to be at Demetri’s estate today.” She’s quick to segue into yet another dimension of her delirium—her crush on the violent Fem himself. “I can watch the baby while the two of you enjoy some fun in the sun.” Her head drops a notch at her latest attempt to infiltrate Brielle and Darla’s well-secured diaper garrison.
“Are you kidding? He’s coming with.” Brielle insists. “He’s whiter than Drake’s bare ass. That boy needs some s-u-n.”
“Oh, hon, he’s going to burn.” Mom tries to hide her newfound horror. “Well, anyway, I’ll be looking forward to seeing him.”
I’m pretty sure he’s not the only male she’s looking forward to seeing.
“Speaking of this afternoon,” Tad says, stabbing his fork in the air, “there is going to be a lot of F-R-E-E food floating around that place, and I expect all of you to do your part. Load up like there’s no tomorrow—I’m especially counting on you boys to really pack it in. This will be great training for the hot dog competition on the Fourth. That leaves us with two weeks left to get our digestive tracks in optimal condition. It’s going to be the highlight of our summer.”
“Does Paragon really host something so stupid?” Mia balks.
“Rockaway Point.” Tad nods.
Rockaway? That’s my special place with Gage—was anyway. Now it’ll “forever” be marred with gluttony and vomit—sounds about right.
“For sure that’s not the highlight of our summer.” Mom waves Tad off dismissively. “The highlight of our summer is spending time with that new grandbaby of ours. Speaking of which, are you girls taking your multiples every day?” She spears Mia, Melissa, and me with her baby-making venom.
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