Elysian

by Addison Moore

  I take a breath and glance at the two gorgeous bookends beside me.

  Maybe it won’t be so tragically insane if I end up with both Logan and Gage.

  An image of Marshall’s naked body raking over mine startles me to attention, and I glance over in his direction.

  Marshall raises his glass as if toasting the visual.

  A little preview of the rest of our evening. Enticing don’t you think?

  A dry laugh rattles through me.

  Right. Like I’m really going to roll around the sheets with Marshall tonight.

  I’m not, am I?

  11

  The Book of Love

  Paragon glitters under a purple haze. The pressing fog clings to the ground, the trees, our skin as if it had made an allegiance to the island never to leave it.

  After Mom and Tad’s latest not-so-greatest fiasco, the party disbands and everyone congregates in the driveway trying to get the hell away from the bodily fluids running amuck inside.

  I watch as Barron and Emma pile into their sedan, the clown head hanging from his rear view mirror bobbles its own goodbye.

  “Why does he have that thing?” I whisper into Gage.

  “I don’t know. He’s had it for as long as I can remember. Do you know?” He looks to Logan.

  “Nope.” Logan slinks an arm around my waist and shoots a look to Marshall as he speeds off into the night. I refused his offer to drive with him. The last thing I need is Chloe or Em starting rumors even if they are dead-on accurate. “Need a ride?”

  “Sure.”

  We pile into Logan’s truck with me in the middle and Gage by my side.

  “Don’t let Dudley touch you.” Logan grips the wheel as if it were Marshall’s neck.

  “Let me stay, and I’ll hang out while you’re gone,” Gage offers. “That way I can teleport you home.”

  All those lewd promises I made play out in my mind on a loop.

  “That’s not necessary. I can totally handle Marshall.” Although, a small part of me is not convinced that I can totally handle Marshall but that’s beside the point. “So what are you guys up to tonight?” Changing the subject is always a brilliant plan B.

  “I’ve got a meeting.” Logan doesn’t break his gaze from the black road expanding in front of us.

  “Oh?” I latch my gaze onto Logan. Maybe this is the big reveal, and he’s ready to let Gage and me in on why he’s been acting so strange.

  “With Chloe.” His jaw pops, enunciating how ungodly gorgeous he is even when totally wild shit flies from his mouth.

  “Chloe?” Gage says it for me.

  A rock has lodged in my throat at the thought of Logan magnetizing to the queen of mean for any reason.

  “I’m trying to get on her good side. I want her to open up about why she’s holding onto that protective hedge if she’s already a Count. There’s not a Fem in the world that would hurt her.”

  “You think she has a reason other than to spite us?” Me to be exact. Chloe lives to wreak havoc in my life, any way she can.

  Logan shakes his head. “I know she wants Gage. I know she has it out for you because she thinks you stole her destiny in more ways than one. I’m just curious if there’s something else.”

  “Well, I didn’t. If I stole her destiny that would mean I was some kind of replacement, that she had been…” A word filters through my mind. It rolls over my tongue waiting to vomit from me, so I give it. “Discarded.” Shit. That’s exactly what the haunted crate of Bishop crap back at Demetri’s had splashed across the side, discard. Chalk this up as another thing I’ll have to see my mother about. “At least some good is going to come from this evening. I get to see my mother.”

  Logan and Gage both groan.

  We all know what a bold faced lie that really is.

  No good ever comes from a visit with Candace Messenger.

  ***

  Logan is slow to drive away, even once I’m safely tucked in Marshall’s spacious abode, his truck lingers in front of the house.

  “Shall we give our audience something to stew about?” Marshall lifts his chin as he glares out the window.

  “No. I’ve already pushed us all to the brink. No point in ripping their beating hearts out.”

  “Very well.” Marshall flicks his finger in their direction, and the truck spins in a dizzying display of headlights and taillights, nothing but a red and white blur until the truck skids out of the driveway.

  “You could have of hurt them,” I say just this side of a reprimand. “I killed an owl like that when I was seven.”

  Marshall picks up both of my hands. “A true crime against nature, do tell.” He backs me against the piano and crushes his body to my chest. Marshall’s hips thrust into mine, and I rip with heat from head to toe.

  “It flew into my neighbor’s house and she brought it over in a cage, thinking my mother would want it for Mia and me. And, while she chatted with Mom, I took the cage and spun in a circle until I landed on the floor. I’ll never forget the slow manner in which that little white bird tipped to the side, never to get up again.”

  “Sharpening your executioner skills at an early age, I see.” He locks onto me with a heated gaze, his deep sanguine-colored eyes immovable from mine.

  “It was devastating,” I pant.

  He snaps his fingers, and a spray of white plumes appears behind him near the ceiling. In a show of brilliance a bird, an owl expands its paper-white wings. Its yellow beak is curved under like a half-moon, its talons tucked neatly under its tail.

  “Marshall Dudley!” I wrap my arms around his waist, never taking my eyes off the glorious sight. “By the way, it’s times like this I would totally like to know your middle name. You are simply amazing.” I gape up at the tiny winged creature. “Is it the same owl?”

  “The one and only.”

  “Hi Snowball!” I give a little wave. “So, you just snatched its soul from eternity and made it anew?”

  “Animals don’t have souls, Skyla.”

  “Yes, they do.” I don’t take my eyes off the cute little beast as he bats around in a semi-state of panic.

  “No—I’m afraid souls are strictly relegated to humans, Sectors, and the like.”

  “Everyone knows all dogs go to heaven. It’s in the Bible.”

  “All Dogs Go to Heaven was a cartoon, Skyla. Do crack open the good book once in a while to apprise yourself of its offerings.” He circles his arms around me and dots a kiss over the top of my head. “Now, before you get testy—yes, all dogs, cats, rats, and whatever you hold near and dear, may join you beyond the pearly gates, but only if the owner goes first and requests that Fido makes a postmortem reprisal. It’s strictly on a per request basis. Regardless, the Kingdom is not short on furry or fuzzy creatures to occupy your time.”

  A white dropping splats over the ebony glossed piano.

  Marshall gives a low growl. “And believe you me, they are far better mannered.”

  He snaps his fingers, and Snowball appears in a gorgeous antique cage with off white scrollwork and a pointed top, right next to Demetri’s mirror of horrors.

  “Can I have him?”

  “She’s yours, Skyla.” He pushes a quick kiss over my lips, and a current races through me alive and explosive like a match to kerosene. “Consider her a gift.”

  I blink back at the bird, and she’s gone.

  “Where’d she go?”

  “She’s in your room, love. I was never a fan of loose feathers. Enjoy.”

  “I will.” Demetri’s demented speculum catches my eye as it blinks to life. “Now what?”

  “He’s peacocking for your attention.” Marshall twists his lips. “He mentioned you’ve yet to thank him for his generosity during the war.”

  “He’s kidding, right?”

  “Wrong.”

  “What a joke.”

  “I’ve said the same thing for centuries.”

  “Does this mean he can see everything? God, I should have figured it was n
othing more than one big spy cam.”

  “Not quite, but he knows you’re here. You’re never truly alone, Skyla. An entire spiritual plane exists right here on earth.”

  “Well, I demand to be alone in the bathroom—the bedroom, and with my boyfriend.” That last part streams out of me unexpected as Marshall comes in close and my lips part involuntarily. “Marshall, wait.”

  “You’re going to have our child, Skyla.” He rakes his lips over my cheek, hot as coals. “Everything we share has been ordained long ago. Our names, my love, have been indelibly written in the Book of Love.”

  “The Book of Love,” I repeat just under my breath. Even speaking those words intoxicates me. I’m falling under Marshall’s spell, and I want this. I want to drown in the euphoria he sinks me in and never come up for air.

  “I have a vision Delphinius imparted—it’s his wedding gift to us.”

  “More gifts from the perverted prognosticator?” As if he hadn’t already detailed our most intimate moments and had them translated into art.

  “Refrain from slandering celestial beings, Skyla.” His lids lower with a sexual leer. “Me, however, you can slander all you like, above or beneath the sheets. In fact, I might prefer it that way.”

  “And what if I whispered sweet nothings?” I tease. “What if I told you how amazing you are? How I waited all day for you to hold that rock hard body against me.”

  “I would tell you today is your lucky day.” Marshall pulls me in so tight I can feel every nuance of his body. Marshall is built like an athlete. He’s a perfect specimen through and through.

  A ragged breath gets caught in my throat.

  “Well, if it’s a gift,” I whisper as our lips inch toward one another. “I guess it would be rude of me not to see it.”

  I crash my lips over Marshall’s. I take full responsibility for this kiss. Every cell in my body confesses to wanting it, knowing it could very well be the last.

  Not by a long shot. Marshall groans as he explores my mouth so achingly soft and demanding in a careful way reserved for lovers. I cup my hands over his face and pull him in—moan for him as his tongue ignites over mine in a supernatural display of affection. These weren’t stolen kisses, or unwanted advantages, these were long since desired. This is our moment to fulfill every single craving, enjoy every delicious taste as we drink each other down.

  A vision begins to materialize. I see it, our entire future laid out in one seamless erotic stream. Marshall and I lie in a tangle of flesh. I can see the sharp angle of his hip as he lies over me, the severe arch in his back as he rises to watch me writhe beneath him. Marshall is the purveyor, the observer of my lust for him. I pull him down and cover him with fevered kisses. Marshall is responsive, attentive to my every need as his body glides over mine in smooth fluid motions. The scenes change, one after another, every locale, every room in this oversized haunted house is decimated by our love, we make them our own, toppling furniture, breaking glassware—dinnerware in the process. I watch as he hoists me over his hips and pins me to the dining room wall. Marshall lifts my dress, and my neck falls back as I welcome his touch. In another vignette we lie over the stairs as he lashes me in white hot lines with his tongue, down my chest, over my bare hip so lily white against his perfectly tanned body.

  “Good God,” I pant, pushing him back before the imagery takes on far too much anatomy for me to handle. “This had better be some warped fantasy or I’m going to—”

  “Or you’re going to what?” He firms his grip over my waist, and I choke out a breath, completely intoxicated by the viral sensation he’s railing through me.

  “Viral sensation,” he huffs. “You know very well you’re trembling from the sheer pleasure of the escapades you’re privy to. In fact, why waste another moment leering when we can indulge our flesh in real time. I’ll take you to the future at once.”

  The room claps to darkness, and we disappear.

  A dim room with dark paneled walls materializes around us. Long, red velvet curtains sit against the wall tied back with rope. Two bodies writhe over navy sheets, with the woman scratching and clawing over a man’s broad back.

  The room warbles in and out for a moment before it hits me that this is real.

  “Those people on the bed…” I lean in and examine that familiar mane of hair, those svelte legs—I know them. “Wait one freaking minute.” I spit it out like tainted water. “That’s me in that bed!” I spin and glare into the sneaky Sector. “And you.” It was one thing to think about it, but it’s all together a different animal to witness firsthand. “Marshall,” I hiss, suddenly alarmed by our new surroundings.

  “No need to whisper. They can’t hear you.” A devilish smile glides up the side of his face. “Or should I say, we can’t hear you.”

  “Oh my, God.” I march right up to the edge of the bed.

  “Like a closer view would you?”

  “No.” I shake my head, but I can’t take my eyes off the two of us. His body gliding over me in a steady rhythm just like in those visions, the soft moans choking from my throat. I watch as Marshall lifts my hand high over my head and presses in as I let out a strangled cry of pleasure.

  He slips his arm around my waist and pulls me in. My entire body sighs into his.

  “Why don’t we delve a little deeper just this once,” he whispers.

  “Just this once,” it quivers from me.

  In a moment, I’m whisked away. It’s dark, my eyes are closed, and I can’t seem to pry them open. A body lies over me as hips grind into mine while my face is peppered with heated kisses.

  “Oh, Marshall!” I hear myself say.

  Marshall? I panic for a moment as my eyes open and confirm my theory. There he is, lost in all-consuming lust as he pants over my mouth, his eyes heavily glazed over as he gazes into mine. What the hell just happened?

  What better way to experience the ecstasy than inside your own mind as it takes place?

  His body flexes with mine. His heated skin melts over my stomach, and both the present and future me groan in unison.

  He starts in on an open-mouthed kiss that plunges us into another fit of pleasure so rife with passion that it’s nearly impossible to want to evict myself from the here and now.

  A hard protrusion scrapes against my thigh, and my legs part far too eager to accept whatever burst of passion he’s willing to give.

  Game over, Dudley. The picture is perfectly clear. We get it on in the future.

  And? he asks as if I had left out one crucial detail.

  And I enjoy the hell out of it. Damn it. True story.

  Marshall pauses from his tongue-lashing while looking down at me lovingly. “Skyla,” he whispers, intensifying his gaze.

  You know I’m here.

  Of course, I know you’re here. He smiles from above. You know you’re here as well.

  Really? I suddenly want to ask myself a million questions, like who will I choose—but given the present situation, I think it’s pretty damn obvious.

  “Love me, Marshall.” It pumps from me like a dying plea.

  Marshall dives down with his entire body pressing into mine as a searing heat ignites inside of me in the most intimate of places. I press him in by the lower back and feel the sting as a burst of rapture spasms inside me. My legs tremble as he burrows in deep.

  The room warbles, the molecules rearrange themselves until we appear in another room, Marshall and me at the foot of another strange bed. He wraps his arms around me from behind, and we watch the growing mound of sheets rise and fall until I peer over the bare shoulder of the man on the bed and realize Marshall and I are at it yet again in the future.

  Marshall whisks me from scene to scene—me in a corset, the two of us in the barn, the beach, the woods behind his estate, on horseback, a car, the base of Devil’s Peak, deep in the ocean, an unfamiliar high rise, whips and chains, leather and lace, an entire litany of long drawn out bedroom scenes, bathroom, kitchen, dining room table, the entry, the hall,
rooms in Marshall’s palatial estate I have never even seen before and then, as if starting from the beginning—an entire montage of hot scenes that encompass time travel as a factor, ages and stages of human history proliferated with our love, so graphic, so amazingly beautiful I can’t look away.

  “Marshall,” I say it breathless, my body still quaking from his touch. “That was so incredible.”

  A gavel sounds, and I look in the direction of the clatter to find my mother seated with the Justice Alliance. The erotic rooms filled with our love are all but gone, replaced with the Elysian Fields. My mother and her panel are seated high over a lake that reflects the lavender sky.

  “What was so incredible, Skyla?” My mother rises to greet me.

  “Yes, Skyla.” Logan pops up beside me and reels me in. “What was so incredible?”

  ***

  A nest of lightning goes off like a crown of thorns above the altar my mother and her three counterparts sit at. The two men that look startlingly like Marshall act as her signature bookends, then there’s Rothello, the love of Logan’s grandmother’s life, with his long dark hair, a patch over one eye. Weird.

  “Can they hear me?” I whisper to Marshall. It’s happened before when my thoughts ran rampant through the ethereal plane without my permission.

  “Consciously block them out. Listening in is strictly for visitors that have no place here. You have destiny, you’re the victor in the war of their making—you belong here as much as they do.”

  “Be seated.” My mother sounds the jade gavel in her hand as those next to her lower into their vaporous thrones. Her gavel glows a gentle shade of sea foam as she strikes it liberally against some invisible surface. I take in her sparkling hair, those clever haze-filled eyes. Her sharp beauty is a contrast to this paradise of sorts. Had I ever looked so alarmingly gorgeous to others? Did I ever fill the space around me with an otherworldly beauty that both startles and stuns? Am I even remotely capable?

  Logan pulls me down to the grassy knoll and settles me in his lap. He nestles his face in my hair, brushes his lips up and down my neck, and I’m a bit surprised by the brazen moves he’s choosing to pull, right here in front of my mother.