Something is happening. This isn’t real. None of this has ever happened. But dear God, will it?
“Let’s get out of here.” My voice shakes as I say it. I pull Logan by the hand until we emerge in the hall. I examine the disappointment in his eyes like he were just given a grim diagnosis. “It’s just some head-game Demetri’s playing. He can do anything. He’s a Fem, remember?”
“And what if it’s not a game?” Logan could cut steel with the anger in his eyes. “What if I’ve already given Gage all the foothold he needs? What if it were nothing more than a glimpse into the future.”
Chapter 68
The Cape
In the evening, Logan and I arrive at the distal end of the island, to a lush Eden known as the Cape. Its overgrown vegetation lends a tropical feel to the landscape, laden with three-story palms and birds of paradise that stretch well past my head. Bushels of knotgrass dot the path down to the white sandy shore where they greet the glittering expanse of the ocean.
Tons of people from both East and West have arrived and are already setting up camp like they’re settling in for weeks.
The moon pours its beams over us and dusts the water with a reflective luminescent bloom.
“Girls’ tents.” Logan points to the left. “Boys’ tents.” He crimps a smile. “That lasts for about an hour.”
Drake mills around behind Logan while yapping it up with Emily. I suspect Brielle is here somewhere having her heart broken all over again. I might have to pull my goofy step monkey to the side and have a serious talk with him about how to treat the mother of his child.
Still no sign of Mirror-bound Miller. If she doesn’t show by morning, I’m going to have to do something idiotic like dive in and get her myself.
“So where’s the bathroom?” I give a quick looksee past Logan’s shoulder. I totally have to go. I’ve been holding it since we rushed out of Marshall’s with my stuff in tow and now I’m going to have to go in a tent or one of those hot smelly Porta Potties you see at construction sites and concerts.
“What bathroom?” Logan raises his brows amused. He’s got a wicked look on his face, and I’m not liking this one freaking bit.
I shuffle my legs in tandem. “Seriously, I’m going have an accident.” I stop short of informing him that the sound of crashing waves is not doing anything to help the situation.
Drake pops up. “Doing the potty dance, sis?” He gives an evil grimace. I really don’t get what either Emily or Brielle see in him. “That,” he says, pointing to the Pacific, “is for number one. And this”—he holds up a hand shovel clotted with dirt—“is for number two.”
I shriek and jump backward, knocking straight into a body.
“Whoa.” It’s Ellis. “The shit shovel got you running for cover?” He holds out a hand as he heads off toward the girls’ tent.
I glare over at Logan. “Shut up.” If he told me there were no accommodations, I might have thought long and hard before deploying myself to an area of the island devoid of indoor plumbing.
Drake barks out a laugh at my dismay so I give him the stink-eye until he slinks back to Emily, shit shovel in hand. I suppose it makes it easier to unload all the crap that comes out of him—from both ends.
Logan gives a little laugh and reels me in. Stubble peppers his face and glows a warm gold as the silent orb of the moon dances overhead. He’s so handsome tonight, so desperately sad and on, this, his birthday.
“I swear there’s an outhouse about a quarter mile up the beach.” Logan settles his hands high up over my waist and sways his hips into mine. His affect brightens as he touches me. It enlivens him from the inside. The soft scent of his cologne rides the breeze and eclipses my senses. It brushes over my skin with its musk, washes through my hair to savor for later. “Just say the word and I’ll make the trek with you.”
“Now there’s a romantic proclamation,” I tease. “Thank you.”
The subtle illumination from above makes Logan shine like a supernatural being. It’s so easy like this with him. I wonder how far we would’ve gotten by now if the Counts hadn’t taken our love and hacked it down at the base—dug up the roots and made us eat them for breakfast. I wonder if he would have already had me, loved me until I was delirious like he promised.
Logan gives the slight impression of a smile and runs his bare arm over mine letting me know he hears.
We can still find out, Skyla. The war ends. I already know this.
Tell me everything. I twirl my fingers against the back of his neck—feel his soft fine hair spin over my flesh like silk.
“Here’s the birthday boy.” Gage crops up next to Logan with a marked look of irritation—no smile, not the slightest hint of jovial inflection in his voice.
I take it the PDA Logan and I are setting off isn’t sitting well with him.
“Found me.” Logan drops his hands from my waist. “I think I left something in the truck.” His eyes lock with mine for a moment—they say, Gage can take you to the end of the faction war and no farther. “See you around,” he says it sad, beaten down before disappearing into the shrubbery.
Ellis cruises by with some chick from East, wearing frosted lipstick that glows off her tawny skin. Her hair is disheveled as if they’ve already indulged in a wild romp.
“Say, Ellis?” I don’t mean to pin Gage like this, but right now I can’t think of any other way. “Did you win the last region for the Counts?”
“What?” His head ticks back a notch. “My dad would have bought me a new effing truck if I did that.” His eyes widen as the lightbulb of all bad ideas goes off in his head.
“No, Ellis,” I reprimand him like I’m talking to my sister’s dog, Sprinkles, back at the house. “I won’t pretend to be your girlfriend if you even entertain such a horrible thing. They’re committing serious atrocities against Celestra and I can only put up with so much crap from you and your daddy.”
He gives a sly smile. “That’s why I like you, Messenger. You kick ass and take names.” He gives a thumbs-up before heading off. “Let me know if you need me for leak patrol. I’ll go for a long walk with you anytime,” he says it suggestively as he follows the girl with the day glow lipstick into the bushes for round two.
“What was that about?” Gage digs his dimples in and slays me without trying.
“You tell me.” I try not to get caught up in the fact he just wrapped his arms around me, that he’s dotting my neck with a series of molten-hot kisses. Gage Oliver doesn’t fight fair, that’s for damn sure.
“Tell you what?” He moans as he buries his face in my hair.
Who am I kidding? Gage as the enemy is not going to play out well. I’ll just have to use his affections until I can, God forbid, get him to fess up to being one of Chloe’s droids. Unless, of course, he’s not, and if that film back at Demetri’s was any indication of the future, then this could very well be Logan’s worst nightmare.
Gage walks me backward into a thicket of overgrown trees with dew-covered leaves, so wide and flat, you could cover half your body with them. He moves his meandering kisses up to my lips and delivers me momentarily from the evils of thinking he were capable of anything but loving me.
“Let me take you somewhere.” He blows it in my ear with a heated rush.
I know he means teleport, and I’m pretty sure a hotel room on the thirteenth floor is involved. He could still very well be a culprit in my life, an accomplice of Chloe’s. I should take caution when saying hello, let alone diving into the backwoods of reality with him. But his kisses are so damn persuasive, I’m finding it difficult to say no.
“I’ll go, but you have one minute.” Honestly, if I hadn’t capped it off at such a ridiculously short amount of time, who knows how fast my clothes would have flown off—plus, a quick dip in the Pacific is becoming increasingly necessary for the safety of my bladder.
“Just one minute.” He seals his lips over mine and I drink him down, so thirsty for Gage as we melt into a different climate.
I can feel the sand shift beneath my feet as the perfumed air gives way to the dizzying scent of crushed ferns, intermingled with the ripe scent of the jungle. The sun tries to penetrate my lids with its lingering rays, but Gage is full tilt, loving me as he whisks us from one sandy beach to the next.
Gage rattles off country after country, refusing to let his lips leave mine. I can feel the scenery changing, unfolding around us in all of the magnificence the earth has to offer but our lips stay true to their mission. We experience the world through one long passion-derived kiss as the salty air prickles against our skin.
We let out kisses linger in the Caribbean. Our feet soak in the warm sand of Martinique—Whitehaven Australia holds us with its warm embrace.
“Fifty two beaches.” He pants into his boast.
“You’re a real inter-planet ace,” I say, breathless from his display of teleportation prowess as the brooding scenery of the Cape fills in around us. “And all that in under a minute.”
“I can’t wait to show you what I can do in one night,” he says it serious—shakes his head just barely, as if pleading for the opportunity. If Gage did land us somewhere private, I could very well fall victim to those hypnotic sapphire eyes, that dubious smile that wants me to believe in its innocence.
“Yeah, well,” I say, taking in a lungful of sea air, “Logan has segregated the masses.”
He rounds his hands over my hips and finds a resting spot for them low on my thighs. This is a different Gage—a bolder version, one that knows what he wants and how he’d like to get it. The heat rises between us to unsafe levels, as he growls beneath his smile. In one svelte move, he unbuttons my shorts and sears over my bottom with his fingers.
“Nobody ever listens to Logan,” he says.
I pluck his roving appendages out from the inside my shorts and examine him in this new predatory light.
“Maybe it’s time someone starts.”
Chapter 69
The Art of War
Gage and I stand just shy of a beach that could very well be situated in the Paradise of my father with all of its heavenly beauty. The moon blazes a trail of fairy dust over the jagged waves of the ocean. There’s a tempest waiting to erupt in our midst, an entire boil of aggression strangulating in the murky waters.
Gage sets off a contrast against the onyx sand, the pitch of night that congests the surroundings. His pale marble skin glows in this environment. A light radiates from his being and christens the darkness with his otherworldly brilliance. Gage is gorgeous, kind, an immaculate soul in every way and yet a part of me isn’t willing to provide him the faith that a messiah like him deserves. He killed something meaningful in our relationship by conveniently neglecting to tell me that he teamed up with Chloe before we ever met, and now it feels impossible to believe anything he says on the first try. He was Judas complete with a kiss, the betrayal set in motion for far less than thirty pieces of silver.
“I’d better get to the girls’ tent and settle in.” I say it so soft the words get lost in the breeze.
“OK.” He brushes his fingers high on the ridge of my cheek. “I’ll catch you in a little bit.”
The disc Demetri returned slips from my pocket and Gage eyes it like a scorpion peeking out of my shorts.
“What’s that?” His voice is stern. Gage can be far too pragmatic at times like these.
“Cheap replica,” I say, tucking it back inside. “It’s sort of a good luck charm.” I don’t intend on spilling the fact I took something from my father’s demented killer. It’s not really a lie since it’s probably useless and quasi-dangerous much like Demetri himself.
“All right.” He slips a quick kiss just above my ear. “I’ll go build a fire.” He trails his finger down my spine nice and slow. “Won’t be as hot you,” he whispers, searing my skin with his lust for me. He walks into the mist until he evaporates like a dream.
I give a short-lived smile and let the fog push me into a thicket that trails to the shore. One more second with Gage and my hormones would have detonated. I could strangle Chloe for complicating my life yet again.
The ocean spreads wide in the distance through the leaves of a Black Alder. The water ripples and glistens, as the waves crash in a neat silver line.
The U-shape of the cape provides a grotto effect. The water is filled with people—girls and boys glossed with the ocean, the tremble of moonlight dancing off their shoulders.
Most of the girls from East are topless. Not surprising since they’re always trying to out skank the girls from West. They’ve already debuted their bits and pieces at Ellis’s Valentine’s party way back when, so it’s not all that noteworthy.
I make my way to the edge and let the sea foam lap over my feet. Its icy bites remind me why swimming anywhere near Paragon, summer or not, is a great way to end up dead from hypothermia. Although, I wouldn’t be lucky enough to die according to Gage—that is, if I believe him.
“Get in, Messenger,” Ellis shouts, not too far from shore. He shakes out his hair and makes the girls in his circle of topless splendor wipe the spray out of their eyes.
“Hey, are you sure you didn’t win that last region?” I try to talk in code but the truth is I could have used the words faction war, Counts, Celestra, Ezrina is going to steal my body, and not one of them would have a clue as to what we’re talking about.
“Nope. Wasn’t even there—opted out. I’ll catch you in the next one. Promise.” He dips under and springs up with his hair perfectly slicked back. “You have five seconds before I come over and drag you in.” His warning echoes off the cliffs adjacent to the cove.
Ellis opted out?
My blood runs cold at the thought of Gage outright lying to me. He was emphatic it was Ellis—and yet I believe the stoner in question over the boy I would have laid my life down for—still most likely would.
I use Ellis’s not-so-veiled threat as a means to convince myself to get in, pulling off my shorts and T-shirt. A seam of moonlight falls over the disc and it glows as if to say don’t leave without me. I’ll be damned if I’m caught without it. I wouldn’t put it past my mother to sink me into the next region just as I dive to the bottom of the ocean. I thread my necklace through the delicate filigree that loops around the edges and put it on like a pendant, heavy and cold against my skin.
An oversized wave growls in my direction and I dive under—the cold water razes over me like peeling off a layer of skin. A scream stifles in my throat as I surface and swim toward the quiet end, near the chocolate boulders that protrude out of the water in a jumble.
“Skyla.” My name echoes in the distance. It sounds as if it’s coming from the horizon rather than the shore, probably just a hallucination inspired by Ellis and his raucous brood of hussies.
Ellis. I’m shocked to hear he wasn’t even in the region Gage claims he won. The prospect of what it might mean sends a rush of adrenaline through me.
Gage seemed convinced that Ellis was present and accounted for. He pointed the accusatory finger right at him for the loss on more than one occasion. How can I believe Gage when deep down inside nothing in me doubts Ellis?
An image of that chess set Marshall gifted me with as a spiritual air freshener blinks through my mind. God—both Ellis and Gage were on Chloe’s side of the board. I’m starting to think that wasn’t some cute little mind fuck Marshall thought he’d throw my way. Maybe it’s real. Maybe I can’t trust either Ellis or Gage.
“Skyla.” My name gurgles from the water in a series of bubbles. I half expect Brielle, or even Chloe to pop up laughing, but nothing happens.
My heart picks up pace as I tread water and inspect the area. The inky dark sea gyrates back and forth, reflecting the luster of the moon, but neither the water nor the moon is willing to divulge its secrets.
A face appears next to me just below the surface—a girl. Her long hair sprays out over her blue features—pale face, grey lips.
I scrambled onto a nearby boulder and let out a short-lived scr
eam.
Her eyes spring wide as she leaps out of the water in an impressive aerial feat, revealing a macabre version of Michelle Miller. She lands her body over mine, the stench of death clings to her like a strong perfume.
“Shit!” I land a hard kick in her gut as she wraps her limbs around me, lithe as tentacles. She pulls us deep into the water and the icy blades of the sea slice against my flesh. A scream gurgles out of me as I struggle to break free.
Her fingers coil around my hair as I fight my way to the surface. Her rotting features melt from her skull like candle wax.
“Skyla.” My name groans from her like a demonic whisper, and I drill out a scream that could be heard for miles.
I give a hard push and swim the hell away from the corpse of a very rotten Michelle Miller.
***
The moon glosses over my arms as I propel myself out to the middle of nowhere. I’m panting, weak, and so ready to give into the evil that waits to swallow me whole at every turn.
A pair of legs dangle from a surfboard as I pop to the surface, gasping for air.
“Help,” I pant.
“Skyla?” Logan looks down with an amused sense of curiosity. His beautiful face shines with a smile, and all of the fear and terror that had enveloped me melts like snow. He pulls me up onto the overgrown boogie board with one quick tug. I wrap my arms around his back and seize until I’m able to catch my breath. “What’s going on?” He pulls away, examining me for injuries.
I tell him about the bizarre monster that leapt from the sea—how it freakishly looked like Michelle.
“You think it was a Fem?” I ask. I’m almost rooting for it to have been a Fem. The last thing I need is a psychotic half-dead Miller after my ass.
Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 7.5) Page 9