Elysian

by Addison Moore

  “Because I haven’t been taken in months. Something’s wrong. I made him promise to use me and me alone.” I can’t believe I’m whining about not doing time in the Celestra tunnels, but it’s my Elysian I long to see, and we both know it.

  “Your mother has placed a sanction until the verdict of the faction war is revealed.” His lips twitch just enough to curve. “Rothello informed me just this morning that the jury has deliberated. They’ve counted the cards, Skyla, sifted through the battles and found themselves in favor of…well, someone.” He pulls a bleak smile as if he, himself, didn’t know who they had chosen. I damn well know it’s me. Correction. It damn well better be me.

  Another wild cry rips through the evening haze.

  “I must go to her,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

  “Can you take away her pain?” I’m so frightened for my mother, I’m about to drag Marshall out here and make him sit on her.

  “I can and I will.” He looks resolved to do this with or without my permission.

  Mom howls like a wolf in heat. Her voice carries like a sickle that threatens to scalp anyone with a penis in a twenty-five mile radius.

  “Please do,” I say. He turns, and I pull him back by the elbow. “Demetri? Did my mother, Candace, trick you into believing that Chloe was the chosen one? Where did you get those twisted visions that made you believe in Chloe? Was it Delphinius?” I have to know if he’s a fraud. That would answer everything about those visions I’ve shared with Marshall.

  He exhales with defeat. “It was your father, Skyla.”

  “Liar.” I should have known better than to expect anything but a lie to stream from his lips.

  “Nathan told me he had news. He said that the girl who would lead Celestra to victory would come from Paragon. Chloe was the only one on Paragon at the time who was a prime Celestra—her blood as close to pure as possible.”

  My eyes widen. “You thought he meant Chloe.”

  “I gifted myself to her immediately.” His left brow extends in the air as if he were relieving the grievous error. “She became a killer. I knew then I had made a terrible mistake.”

  “But you’re a Fem, why the hell would you align yourself with Celestra to begin with?”

  “It wasn’t for me. It was for my son.”

  Mom’s voice bleats through the opened window like a sheep to the slaughter.

  Demetri stalks off in that direction without another word.

  “Wait!” I call after him, but he’s already at the Landon door letting himself in as if he lives there.

  Demetri doesn’t have a son. Does he?

  A long, black limo pulls up at the base of the driveway, and Gage gets out from the back. He takes my breath away with his slick black suit, his killer grin, those dimples all decked out to see me. My heart melts at the sight of him.

  “Limo!” Brielle and Darla scream simultaneously.

  Brielle gets on the phone.

  “Get your ass over here!” she screams into her cell. “We’re going to prom in style!”

  Gage treks his way up, and his woodsy cologne pulls me in before he does.

  “You look amazing.” He picks my hand up, twirling me in a circle.

  “And you look hotter than hell,” I whisper it low into his ear before biting gently over his lobe.

  “Skyla.” An apprehensive grin swims on his face. He pulls back, his face alive with a pinch of color. I think I’ve sent the message loud and clear that tonight is the night we start our relationship anew.

  Drake comes jogging up the driveway with a T-shirt on that has a tuxedo screen printed over the front and a pair of black jeans.

  “Tell me you’re not wearing that goofy shirt.” I lay off the threat that wanted to sail out in the event this last minute fashion blunder is some kind of stunt.

  “Who you calling goofy?” He jets his head out and proceeds to gyrate like a chicken.

  “Come on y’all, pictures.” Darla pulls us into a lineup. “Plus, I promised your mama I’d snap a couple pics next door while she squeezes that puppy out.”

  Eww.

  “One, two, three!” She clicks away like the paparazzi on steroids. “You did it! Senior year. Best damn time of your life kids, and don’t you forget it. Now get out of here, and enjoy the hell out of prom! Life’s too short not to enjoy it.” She trails down the driveway and heads next door.

  Gage threads his arm through mine and ticks his head toward the limo.

  “You ready to enjoy the hell out of prom?” His dimples dig in, and my stomach explodes in a fit of passion I haven’t known in a while.

  “I think I’m ready to enjoy the hell out of life again.” I press a quick kiss over his lips and pull back, examining him as something more than the friend he’s been these last few months.

  Gage hikes his cheek up in approval.

  “Thank you.” He touches his forehead to mine.

  “For what?”

  “You just made my night.”

  The hint of a devious laugh trembles from my chest.

  “I plan on making all of your nights.” I crash my lips over his and groan into him as we indulge in a kiss far more heated than any we’ve ever experienced before.

  Darla was right—life’s too short not to enjoy it.

  ***

  We file into the limo with me practically on Gage’s lap and, well, Brielle completely on Drake’s lap until we pick up Emily. Drake is the only boy I know strange enough to take two girls to prom. Em hops in with her round belly, hard as a stone. Swear to God it looks like she squeezed a desert turtle under her dress.

  I’ve already texted Tad six times since we left, and he’s texted back with a, Will you stop bugging me! So, I guess that means no baby yet.

  “Graduation is in two weeks.” Gage hums it in my ear like a lullaby. “Can you believe it?”

  It hurts when he says it. It was bad enough average days were drifting by without Logan, and now a milestone will come and go, underscoring the fact everyone on the planet gets to move on but him.

  “That is hard to believe. I guess that’s exciting.” The words sting as they leave my lips.

  “It is exciting, Skyla.” Gage picks up my hand and rubs his hand over the inside of my palm. “He’d want us to think so.”

  I lean into sweet, perfect Gage. There’s still so much healing we need to go through. I don’t know if it will ever end. A part of me just wants to dive into him, surrender every last part of me like I was so ready to do last summer, but another part of me feels like I’ll be cheating on Logan. We shared everything those last few days. I can still feel his dizzying kisses, warm like a haze-filled summer day. The heat of his body raking over mine, creating a spark between us that lit the sheets on fire. His deep-throated kisses, his scorching tongue as it traces out my hips. A scene plays out in my mind, Logan slowly morphs into a dark-haired boy with hypnotic blue eyes that drill into me with all of their lust, and my insides pinch with desire.

  Gage and I are going to share that one day—as soon as I can figure out how to scrub my heart off the wall, now that my mother has shot a Logan-sized hole through it.

  The limo pulls in front of the Paragon Palms Luxury Resort, and we file out, dazzled by its opulent appeal. It’s so gorgeous here with its glittering framed doors, its bushy palm trees in the marbled entry. In the foyer, a giant brass sign reads East Meets West Senior Prom with an arrow pointing to the left. Just below that it says, A Night to Remember.

  Brielle and Em take off for the ladies room. They’ve bonded over the past few months, and unnaturally so if you ask me—sort of leaving Drake in the dust with their constant sleepovers, their overtly elevated BFF status. But it’s been clear as the crystal ball Em’s family consults on a regular basis that Drake and Brielle are weathering hurricane Emily. Not that Em has been a Cat 5 or anything. She’s more like a dark cloud that came and spread her legs over their love nest.

  I pull Gage to the side before we head into the Madison Lights Ballro
om and take him in once again. Gage has the power to detonate the entire building with his cutting looks alone.

  “You feeling OK?” He wraps his arms around my waist and holds me. Gage has been far more than attentive to the way I feel over these past several months.

  “I feel great because you’re here, and I want to thank you for being my rock.” I quiver a moment at what’s about to come next. “Gage, I’m sorry if I ever made you feel second best.” My gaze sweeps the floor.

  “Stop.” He picks up my chin and holds my gaze, strong as steel. He pulls me in and kisses me tenderly at first then roughly with a burst of passion as bright as the sun. He pulls back as his chest pumps from the exchange. “That’s how I want to do it.” Gage flirts with his dimples, with his bedroom eyes, and I take in a breath at his boldness. I am so fucking loving his boldness.

  “That’s how you want to do what?” This is getting interesting, fast. And technically we are in a hotel.

  “Maybe you should finish what you were saying first.” His dark brows point down at me as if it’s officially my turn.

  “I was going to say, I’m ready, Gage.” I take a deep breath. “I’m ready to pick up where we left off and focus intensely on just you and me.” A tongue of heat lashes between my thighs, and I can feel my body aching to sneeze with Gage at the helm. An involuntary laugh bubbles from me at the deliciously naughty thought.

  He huffs a quiet laugh right along with me. “I’m not ready for that.”

  “What?” I straighten in my five-inch heels.

  “Nope.” He twists his lips while caressing the side of my face. “I want to start everything new. I want to build something better, something that’s not tethered to who we were.”

  Gage wants a fresh start. And deep down inside, I think that’s exactly what we need.

  “Skyla Messenger.” I hold out my hand. “Do you go to West?”

  “Gage Oliver.” His dimples invert into black buttons as he gives my hand a squeeze. “I used to play for the football team.”

  “Really? I was in cheer. I wasn’t any good, though.” I laugh into him as we walk into the ballroom brimming with twinkle lights and bodies polished to perfection. “I have to warn you,” I say above the blaring music. “I’m feeling easy tonight.” I bite down on a wicked grin.

  His face bleaches out as he looks across the room.

  “I’m sorry,” he glances back down at me, stunned. “What did you say?”

  “I said I’m feeling easy,” I shout over the music.

  He makes a face while eyeing the bar behind me. “Why don’t I get you some Ginger Ale? But first I need to talk to someone real quick.” He nods to our left. “There’s Ellis and Giselle.” He spins me in their direction before taking off.

  “Not queasy,” I say to myself. “Easy.”

  I head toward Ellis and Giselle just as a foot hooks around my ankle, landing me flat on my face. I glance up to find myself staring at three barely-there hemlines, a sea of legs that look all too familiar—the bitch squad. Chloe offers me a hand, and I avert my eyes at the gesture. Instead, I pull myself back on the stilts I’ve chosen to torment myself with for the better half of the evening and dust myself off.

  Michelle and Lex surround Chloe like bookends. I’m shocked as hell Nat isn’t getting in on the action, but, then again, she and Pierce, a.k.a Holden are probably off fornicating in a supply closet somewhere. Come to think of it, I’d rather be fornicating with Pierce in a supply closet rather than staring at Chloe’s ugly mug.

  “So, who you here with? Logan or Gage?” Chloe cuts a look past my shoulder. “Oh, that’s right. Logan couldn’t stand the sight of you, so he swam off the island.”

  The three of them break out in chortles.

  I slice my palm across her face and produce a satisfying clap from the connection.

  “You bitch,” she hisses.

  “No, Chloe.” I pull her in by the wrist. “You’re the bitch. You’re the reason Logan isn’t here. And remember all that bullshit I fed you during the senior rally? I’ll save your life. I’ll spare you from prison?” I glare into the dark pit of her eyes. “I lied. And it was the most delicious lie of my life. I’ve eaten that lie for breakfast every day of the week ever since, and it’s nourished me because I know our destinies collide one more time. This fairytale you’ve been living is going to come to a spectacular end. And it’s going to end the way I say it ends. When I decide it’s time. The protective hedge”—I clasp onto it—“Gage—the sword of the Master, they’re all mine. I win Chloe. All of your evil, all of your wickedness was for not.”

  “Sheesh, Messenger—” Michelle makes a face at my impromptu monologue. “We were just going to tell you that Dudley was looking for you.”

  “Stop being so uptight.” Lex slices the air with her words. “You’re not the only one who misses Logan. It’s not like Chloe killed him.”

  I push past them in a fury.

  Chloe did kill Logan. And maybe only a handful of people know about it, but one of them sure as hell didn’t forget it—and that one, is me.

  I spot Marshall against the side entrance where the patio extends to the beach, but it’s locked off tonight, which is lucky for Chloe because I’m not opposed to making her inhale large vats of water.

  “You called?” I curtsey in his presence. Marshall should be outlawed when he’s decked out like this. It seems impossible that he can be even more lethal with that face, but on a night like tonight I’m reminded all too well.

  “Bowing before me? The next thing I know, you’ll be calling me master.” His lips curl on the edges.

  “You so wish.”

  “You’ll use it as a pet name many times during our boudoir exchanges in the future. And what heated exchanges they’ll be,” he purrs it out low and guttural like a lion.

  I make a face. “I’m a little disappointed in you.”

  “Fine. We can have a boudoir exchange in the present—a seaside tryst if you prefer.” He motions for the door. “After you.”

  “No, not that. The dress.” I pluck at the lace by my thighs. “I miss your magical dresses. Even that dress Marlena lent me was a total let down. Aside from being way vintage, it was just a dress.” My cheeks twitch with disappointment as I pan the crowd for Gage. We’re doing a lousy job of enjoying the hell out of prom on, this, the first night of our new and improved relationship.

  “I will gift you another dress.” Marshall steps into me blocking my view of the dance floor. “It will be for our wedding, Skyla. I’ve already commissioned the most skilled seamstress to create the lace, strand by strand, she weaves it even now.”

  “She’s weaving the lace? No offense, but that sounds like it’s going to take a century. That’s an awful long time,” I tease. “I’ll be in diapers by then.”

  Those hotter-than-hell lips of his scowl in my direction, and he wands his fingers over my abdomen. Honest to God, something just heated up inside me—if he impregnated me “angel style” I’m going to freaking flip.

  “What was that?” I squawk.

  “I bequeath you the everlasting gift of continence.”

  “Wow.” I touch my hand to my abdomen and smile at the thought of being diaper free well into my senior years. “Aren’t you just the Sector who keeps on giving?”

  “Another phrase you’ll use generously in the future.” He glances over the crowd. “Now back to your disappointment. I’ll have you know, Marlena’s dress was anything but a ‘total let down.’”

  “Why are you always defending her? It’s like you favor her.” A rise of bile eclipses the back of my throat just thinking about that overhyped flapper from yesteryear.

  “Jealousy becomes you, Ms. Messenger.” Marshall pulls me in by the hook of his come hither gaze. “And I wasn’t defending her. I was simply about to inform you that the dress she gifted you had properties.”

  “Properties? What kind of properties? They couldn’t have been that great. I mean she lost the love of her life, got the p
lague, and jumped off a cliff.” A thought comes to mind, and fear a mile wide grips me. “Oh God.” I latch onto his shoulder. “That dress was cursed wasn’t it?” I give him a wild shake.

  “God!” Michelle pops up in our midst uninvited. “Now she’s accosting Dudley!”

  “Be gone!” I slice the air with my finger, and Miller slinks back over to Lex. Chloe catches my eye on the dance floor. Who the hell would dance with Chloe? A familiar looking boy and a beautiful girl with long caramel hair hustle up next to her. Coop and Laken! Gah! Chloe is going to contaminate them with wickedness. “Look, I’ve got to go.” I jump on the balls of my feet. “Tell me what the dress did, I beg of you.”

  His eyes narrow into mine. “Begging will be your forte—”

  “I know, in the bedroom, one day in the future.”

  “I was going to say later this evening when your mother calls you to court, but if you insist.” A lewd grin slides up his face.

  I suck in a breath.

  “That means I’m going to see Logan tonight!” My insides dissolve in a puddle at the thought.

  “No, love.” Marshall says it sweetly with a tenderness I’m not used to from him. “You get to see him now.” He nods behind me and I turn, slow, as if all of gravity had been weighted down with my grief these past few months.

  Standing in front of the entrance to the Madison Lights Ballroom, in a killer suit, and his larger-than-life good looks, is a very healthy, very much alive, Logan Oliver.

  41

  Heart’s Desire

  It stands to reason we can’t beat death—not on this earth, not until that final trumpet blast where old flesh is traded in for new. Here we were doomed to the plague of bereavement, the casualty of a permanent separation from those we love. But in this waking hour, on the solid soil of Paragon, Logan had come back to me.

  I jostle and push my way through the crowd. I swim through the molasses of taffeta, of swirling lace and satin. The toxic marriage of perfume and cologne barrels over me while every moment brings Logan and me closer together. There’s nothing more my heart desires than to see Logan again, even if it is just for a moment.