“I haven’t set out to do anything, yet.” That last word rings out in my mind like a gunshot.
“You will.” A glacial breeze stems from her direction and ices me to the bone until my teeth chatter. “And please think twice before entering my home without knocking. I have no patience for intruders.”
The last thing I see is the palm of her hand. Candace knocks into my forehead, and I fly backward, flipping through space and time, hurtling past stars, past the deepest sense of isolation I have ever known until the molecules around me scramble apart then rewire themselves to another place, to another plane, and I hit my forehead on the ground of an unbreakably hard surface. I glance up, blinking away the horrific pain, and moan.
“Gage!” The sound of Skyla’s sweet voice fills my ears, and I do my best to roll over. Up above me dozens of brilliant blue butterflies flutter, illuminating the darkness with their beauty.
“The butterfly room,” I mumble, struggling to sit up. “Skyla,” I moan as her lips mold to mine, and just like that, all is right with the world again. My thoughts are caged against her powers and on permanent lockdown as far as I’m concerned. There’s no way I want to burden her with the truth of what the upcoming war will mean, and there will be a war. I can’t go an eternity without Skyla and our children. If it comes down to me and Dudley—I’m sorry, but Dudley is going to lose every single time. What frightens me most is the fact there were things Candace wasn’t willing to share with me. Details left out. Equations left unanswered. It feels as if I’ve already been discarded by the Master with no hope in a situation where hope has already sailed on without me.
But as it stands, Skyla melts her body over mine. Her kisses match mine in both hunger and ferocity. Skyla gives me exactly what I’m looking for, a glimmer of hope.
Hope is something you cling to with all of your might once you realize the end game is something you absolutely cannot accept. And to think I once dreaded dying—mere death, something the Bible itself tells us leads to life, if you know the way. And yet here I am, dead and resurrected, and yet still staring at an uncertain future before me. Something far worse than death—eternal separation—apart from my family, apart from the Master Himself.
A steady rage builds within me. Whoever thinks I should succumb to a fate worse than death had better think again.
Skyla does her best to rip my clothes off, and I return the favor. Her mouth fuses to my chest, and I dig my fingers into those golden curls, the warmth of her body gliding over mine. The flames of our love burning stronger, hotter than any fire in hell could ever hope to achieve.
I pull back a moment, struggling to catch my breath, my chest pumping so fast and hard it’s taking her petite frame along for the ride. “You sicced Noster on my people.” The words come out with a growl, and I watch as that curious look on her face quickly morphs into something just this side of a grin. Skyla bubbles with a laugh, sending the butterflies streaming around the room in a frenetic manner.
“I guess there’s no use in hiding anything from you, is there?” she purrs as she runs her finger from my lips to my chest, igniting an icy burn all the way down. “Are you hiding something from me, Gage?” Her head tips slightly, and I marvel at how beautiful she is with this strange blue cast glowing over her skin. The irony being that the Counts glow this very shade when exposed spiritually. Skyla is the furthest from a Count as one could get, and yet she owns this hue.
I brush the hair from her face. “You would make a beautiful Count. You know that?”
I can’t help but wish she was one, and that I was one, too. How much easier it would have been to watch anyone else in our position. Do the others know how lucky they are? What a celestial noose they’ve escaped? I doubt it. Until your soul is on the chopping block, you have no idea what a thing of horror destiny has thrust upon you. As much as Skyla and I would like to cry foul, I suppose there’s not a soul on the planet who hasn’t had their race marked out by destiny—for the most part. But we have been given this chalice, our fate is sealed. It’s up to us to battle it out and rearrange the celestial pieces in the sky. Skyla to save her people and me to save mine, to save myself—piece my family back together in the process, and I do believe I will do just that.
Skyla exhales over my chest and sets off my urgency to have her that much more. Even her breath is far too enchanting for me to ignore, far too intoxicating for me to resist.
“We aren’t Counts, are we?” Her lids lower a notch, and, as much as she’s doing her best to seduce me, I can tell she shared the same strange yearning for a moment. “We are enemies.” She shakes her head just enough for me to know she refutes the idea.
“Enemies?” I try my best to pull her up to me, but she sinks lower over my body, and every last part of me is looking forward to whatever she has planned. “You own me. I could never be your enemy.” And just as swiftly as the words fly from my mouth, it occurs to me that I will very much be her enemy, take down the Sectors, and her people—just to spend eternity by her side. “You won’t forget that, will you?”
“That I own you?” Her left eye comes shy of winking. “I’ll burn that over my soul so I never forget it.” She sinks further down until that happiest to see her part of me pops up between us. “I like to take care of the things that belong to me. The people. The kings.” Her eyes widen just a notch with amusement. “I do long to worship at your altar all the livelong day.”
“That might need to remain a secret between us.”
“Maybe so”—she lands a kiss to my inner thigh—“but I plan on showing you that I will be the most faithful, loving, devoted servant of them all. You see—it’s really you who owns me.” And just like that, her lips collapse around me, and my head tips back in a fit of ecstasy.
Nobody said being king would be easy. Nobody said it would be hard either. And for some reason, this moment right here feels as if it’s nestled somewhere in between. Skyla can never know the reality of what I’m fighting for, what it might cost those that she loves. I would never want Skyla to choose between her people or me, Dudley or me. No. That is one truth I intend to keep buried deep in the darkest chamber of my heart. I want Skyla to fight tooth and nail against me. She owes her people that much. She owes herself as well.
Skyla is the queen, and I am the king.
It just so happens we’re presiding over two entirely different kingdoms.
Just my luck. But I don’t care what luck, fate, or destiny has to say about my eternal standing. Nobody is pushing me off into some abyss that leads to everlasting darkness. Nope. I am fighting for Skyla, and not an entity in the universe, not even Skyla herself will be able to stop me.
Logan
Winter gives way to spring, but the fogbank that is forever permeating this island holds fast to the forests, to the oil rich eucalyptus, protecting them from the danger of a much-needed burn. Paragon has become a thicket, a sea of trees whose end and beginning are indiscernible. Much like that of my feelings for Skyla. Yes, I’m officially seeing Lexy. Yes, it is officially destroying any relationship I might hope to have with Skyla—platonic or otherwise, and I suppose the otherwise is not all that important. She and Gage seem to have moved into their new life nicely—still residing at the Landon’s to keep an eye on Demetri as his construction project seems to have hit a predictable speed bump. But the amount they copulate, the amount they force me to hunt them down and lock lips like I’m some nouveau riche wannabe adopting European greeting customs, makes me want to vomit. And I’ll admit, I have on occasion. It’s dizzying the acrobatics I’ve been subjected to. Watching them chisel out their affection for one another in such visceral ways. I once thought Gage might bore Skyla to tears in the bedroom. It was what I wanted to believe. I was the exciting one, after all. Yet, he’s proven me wrong, or at least Skyla seems pretty psyched over what he has to offer. And damn it all to hell if I have to witness him offering it one more time. I suppose that’s what the meeting with Candace will be about later this afternoon. She�
��s made it known to me in a dream that we’re to meet at the Falls of Virtue. Heading to the Falls without Skyla feels criminal. It’s where we shared so many great memories, where I married her. But Candace gets what Candace wants, with the exception of her way with the course of my life. Nope. I’m not breaking up Skyla’s relationship with Gage. They’ve decided to have a vow renewal, but instead of having it on what would have been their third wedding anniversary in September, they’ve opted for the split between their birthdays—near midnight on Gage’s birthday, his death date. They want to wipe away the grime of murder with new memories, better ones, and I can’t say I blame them. Demetri is set to officiate it, and from what I hear, Lizbeth is already barreling ahead with the party planning. Speaking of party planning, she offered to throw in a freebie for me since the initial grand reopening of the bowling alley ended up with an alley oops through the ceiling, but I kindly declined. Instead, I opted for a quiet reopening once construction was through, and to my surprise the word of mouth was enough to draw in more than enough customers to quickly bring us out of the red. As much as I hate to say it, Ellis was right. This place needed something. Out with the old and in with the new.
I take a moment to steal a glance at Lexy and try my hardest not to scowl. Developing a new relationship with someone isn’t exactly as easy as I thought it would be. In fact, you might say the more time I spend with Lex—and, my God, she makes sure we spend copious amounts of it with one another—the more I can’t seem to stand her. We haven’t kissed since New Year’s, not with my permission at least. She’s planted a few ones on me, mostly whenever Skyla is near. It’s her way of making sure Skyla gets the message. I am taken. I am very much off the market, and Skyla Messenger, Oliver twice over, will never again touch the likes of me.
Anyhow, I’ve convinced Lex that I need time. I need to grieve what was and ease into who we might become. For the most part, she’s buying it, but her patience with me is wearing thin. It’s becoming painfully clear that I need to shit or get off the Lexy pot. I’m wavering in which direction to move. I mean, is there really anyone out there I’m going to fall in love with outside of Skyla? I don’t think so. Nothing seems plausible anymore. Once upon a time, I thought I had control over my life. And boy was I ever wrong. I lost the reins as soon as Skyla and I went over that first Countenance-inspired bump, and it’s been a shit ride ever since. I was damned if I kept her, damned if I lost her. At least this way she’s safe with Gage, and their beautiful family circle remains unbroken. Not everyone gets a happy ending. That’s just the way life goes. And as my shitty luck would have it—there will be no happy ending in sight when it comes to me.
It’s a cool Sunday in May, the skies over Paragon are weeping, and it seemed like the perfect time for Coop to join me in the war room, better known as Ezrina and Nev’s home. The lab under Whitehorse, the Wonderground, is perfectly light and bright with its every last detail white as fallen snow, but as of late, Ezrina and Nev had converted a part of it into an oversized nursery for Alice so she can be near them while they go about their work. Her enclosure consists of a series of colorful gates all conjoined to create one oversized pen. And, of course, there is the pièce de résistance, baby Alice herself. If a child has ever made me miss Angel—the child fate cruelly teased Skyla and me with last year, it would be this one. Alice has so many qualities that Angel possessed. If it weren’t for her red hair and forest green eyes, I would have thought it were Angel herself. Alice is every bit as congenial, loving, magnetic as Angel was. And that infectious laugh is more than my heart can bear. I love Alice as if she were my own. And unless I hop to it with Lex or someone unknown to me yet, Alice and the boys will be as close as I get to having my own child, and I’m more than content with that.
Cooper and Laken sit across from Lex and me at the glass table that happens to hold the glass box that happens to house Gage Oliver’s head in it. The glass cube is filled to the brim with bright blue keeping solution that causes Gage to bob and nod as if agreeing with me on every point. Ezrina sits to my left while Nevermore tries his best to bounce an unhappy Alice back to contentment at the distal end of the room.
Several painstaking months have slogged by with us reading and taking detailed notes on the books Laken allowed Coop and Skyla to take a look at. So far The Hallowed Tomes amount to giant wartime manuals that also have insightful passages on how to live life as a Nephilim and preach on the dangers of procreating with pure humans in fear of deluding the Factions further. Liam comes to mind. He and Michelle are slated to marry in exactly a month on the salty shores just outside of my compound. Suffice it to say, Lex is clawing with anticipation, warning me that she will in fact catch the bouquet. And that’s entirely what I’m afraid of.
Ezrina takes a breath as she pushes her paperwork forward. “Sector Marshall made it known to me this morning that the enemy is looking to devour the stronghold.” Her dark red lips pull into a line as she looks from Coop to me. “I must tend to Alice.” She takes off for the screaming tot, and Laken clicks her tongue.
“I’m sorry. I have to—”
Lex cuts her off. “Go to the bathroom?” she says it with a curt rudeness that causes me to glare at her momentarily. “Well, I’m sorry.” She scoots her seat back as if she too were about to vacate the premises. “But it’s all she’s said for the last two hours.”
Laken sighs as she rises from her seat, her swollen belly already a prominent feature on her body. My heart breaks for Coop because it’s a steady reminder of the fact she firmly belongs to Wes in every way, or at least her heart does. It’s got to hurt. But on the upside, it was Coop who brought her here today. Laken has been instrumental in helping us amass the amount of script we’ve been able to sift through. Ezrina and Nev are currently trying to crack the code on the sacred text written in a language not of this world. At the moment, the project seems futile, but Ezrina insists she’s making progress. We all know Dudley holds the key, but Coop seems to think we should leave him out of it for now. He has a strong feeling there is a very real reason this hasn’t been transcribed. I’m betting he’s right.
Laken grunts as she starts to head off. “I was going to say, I have to hold that baby, but now that you’ve reminded me about more pressing needs, I think I’ll head to the restroom first.” She cuts Lex a look sharp enough to slit her throat. No matter how kind Laken is at heart, Lex has made it impossible for the two of them to get along.
Lex looks my way, scouring my expression. She must sense my dissatisfaction with her because she forces a sugary smile to her face. “Why don’t I go get Laken another glass of water? I’d hate to see the mother-to-be dehydrated while she’s a guest in our home.” The two of them take off in opposite directions, and I knock my knuckles over the table until Coop glances my way.
“The two of you are spending an awful lot of time together.” I tick my head to the side with the innuendo. It feels odd even insinuating he and Laken might be hitting it off. They hit it off a long time ago, only Laken doesn’t remember.
Coop winces as he glances in the direction Laken took off in. “She’s been opening up to me. I think it’s a good sign.” His shoulders sag, his features fall somber as if maybe it wasn’t. “She mentioned something about trying to get Wes to purchase a house on Paragon. She wants Tobie and the new baby to have a normal life. She said she liked my neighborhood. They’re looking into it.”
“Crap,” I mutter under my breath. As if Coop wasn’t forced to eat a shit sandwich already, the thought of having Laken and Wes as neighbors must be killing him.
“On the bright side, it will save on all the trips I’ve made to the Transfer. I’d much rather walk next door.” He leans in, his eyes narrow in on mine as if he were about to call me on something. “What’s with you and Lex?” The inflection in his voice lets me know he’s not buying this farce. “Dude, you look like the unhappiest soul on the planet whenever she’s around. You sure you’re into this?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” I’ve
reassured Coop just as much as I’ve reassured myself lately. “We’re just hitting some turbulence. I need to do something to try to get us back on course.”
He pumps out a dull laugh. “Was there ever a course?” He shakes his head. “Speaking of courses, you know what I remembered last night?”
Coop doesn’t sleep, or at least not well. It’s something even Ezrina can’t seem to help him with. Lord knows she’s doped him up with enough tranquilizers to shut down an entire arena of racehorses.
“I’m not sure I like the fact you’re thinking about me at night, sweetheart.”
Coop scowls. “I’m always thinking about you, honey. How you and I not only seem to share a face, but the women we love have left us for dudes who also happen to share a face.”
“So you’re saying we’re wearing the wrong face.”
“You said it, not me.”
I grunt as I roll my pen his way, “What’s on your mind?”
“Raven’s Eye. I think that’s the answer.”
“To the fact the Fems and the Barricade are tired of this arm-wrestling match?” I have no clue what he’s getting at.
“To my love life troubles.” He glances to Laken as she laughs while holding Alice in the distance. “I snatch her lookalike Kres back, and once Laken sees how far Wesley’s obsession has gone, it’ll open her eyes.”
A horrible sinking feeling coats me on the inside. Skyla and I, the Retribution League, Dudley, Ezrina, we’ve all tried to come up with a way to get Kresley Fisher off that government rat trap but to no avail. The fact Coop sees this as a desperate attempt to get Laken back is more than frightening.
“Find another way. The last thing I want is to have to rescue your ass as the government is about to feed you to a pit full of starving Spectators. The feds aren’t keeping you around for kicks. You’re not nearly as pretty as Kres.” I give a little wink.
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