Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 7.5)

by Addison Moore

  “No, we don’t.” No matter how much I try to readjust, Ellis’s hand continues to flop around my chest like a dying fish. Never mind. Ellis Harrison coping a feel is the least of my worries, and knowing Ellis, he only has the “breast” intentions at heart.

  “It’s not working,” Morley growls while the remote misfires into the television, probably a preview of how his penis will be malfunctioning later.

  Bootsie bounces in her seat. “We should go to the pet shop and hold kittens.”

  “We should totally do that.” I’m quick to glom onto the idea. I’d rather snuggle with an entire zoo full of rabid oversized felines than cozy up with Harrison senior.

  “No pet shop.” Morley flips it to the science channel. “Space voyages,” he muses at the asinine concept. “This should be interesting. I’m thinking of booking the first flight once it becomes available to the average citizen.”

  He is so not the average citizen, but I don’t dare point this out. And I’d gladly ship him off the planet myself if I could.

  “I don’t think this is real.” I contest. “I totally don’t believe a word they say on this channel after that whole mermaid ‘documentary’ thing.” Mia and Melissa were freaked out for days.

  “Dude, that was so cool.” Ellis enlivens at the thought of bare breasted women colonizing the ocean. “You see the queen? She was freaking hot.”

  “It was fake, Ellis. Just like the idea of hauling perfectly good people into outer space is a fraudulent endeavor. There’s no air up there—”

  Bootsie cuts me off. “And no shopping,” she’s quick to interject.

  Morley shoots me a look of discontent for kick-starting Bootsie’s brain cells thereby deflating his credit limit by proxy. “This is not fake.” He cuts the air with his razored words.

  “Geez,” I whisper to Ellis.

  “What did you go and tick him off for?” he whispers back. Ellis straightens and clears his throat. “Go make me a samich.” He barks it out a little too loud.

  I give an involuntary choo-choo train laugh and ditch a quick look to Morley.

  I think it’s freaking hysterical Ellis talks to his father this way and only because it’s Morley-I-hate-Celestra-Harrison. Truth is, I’m a bit aghast that Ellis is barking out orders to his father, but I totally love the idea that Morley is Ellis’s bitch on the home front.

  Speaking of bitches, Morley’s pocket ingénue is gawking at me in disbelief, and come to think of it, all eyes seem intently focused on yours truly.

  “Oh.” I sit up with surprise. “Are you talking to me?” Good God, Ellis Harrison has gigantic balls to be ordering me around like that.

  “You’re my girlfriend. Who else would I talk to like that?” Ellis huffs as if said “samich” detail were expected from the unfortunate soul deemed his better half.

  No wonder Ellis doesn’t have a girlfriend. It’s because he so doesn’t deserve one.

  “Extra avocado,” he adds for good measure.

  I spear him with a look. “Extra avocado?”

  “That’s right. Face five.” Ellis smacks his lips into mine without warning.

  Face five? My jaw goes slack at the concept.

  “You, too.” Morley pushes Bootsie until she’s on her feet. “Hit the kitchen, girls. Toast my bread, would you?”

  I get up on my own, lest Ellis should be motivated to shove me out of my seat and lose a hand in the process. Bootsie leads the way to the kitchen while Morley and Ellis discuss their first space voyage.

  I’d like to send him to space—both of them for putting me on “samich” duty. I’ll have to figure out a way to pay Ellis back for this spectacular brand of avocado based torment.

  I peer into the family room and Ellis gives me a secret thumbs-up. I suppose the treble is worth the hassle of making him a late afternoon snack.

  Rain beads down over the kitchen window with its aggressive patter as I begin plucking enough ingredients from the fridge to outfit a deli with. Secretly, I’m appraising Bootsie from afar. Something tells me we’ll be spending a whole lot of unwanted time together. I bet we could become good friends. She looks nice enough, and if she’s enrolled in college, she’s got to have half a brain, right?

  The rain intensifies its fury.

  “You know”—she leans into the window with her glassy hazel eyes, her long chestnut hair perfectly curled and petrified into pigtails—“that’s exactly what it sounds like when I pee.”

  Like I said, I’m sure we’ll be spending a lot of unwanted time together.

  And I cry a little.

  ***

  In typical Paragon fashion, the sun refuses to show. In typical Paragon fashion as soon as the tempered glow of light evaporates into evening, the clouds lower themselves to earth, thick as ghosts.

  Ethan and Chloe have double-teamed the Landon house and are throwing a party that will most likely end in disaster. Chloe is here, so already we’re beginning with one.

  Bodies arrive in droves for Chloe’s little celebration of all things coital. Ethan’s entrepreneurial spirit is in full swing as he sells condoms that glow in the dark for two dollars a pop at the door—and he’s freaking selling out.

  “Dude!” Ellis makes his way over to me in the living room. “This is hardcore. Face five.” He surprises me on the lips with a quick smack from his own. “Your brother is giving me a serious run for my money. I’m going to have to step up my game.”

  “No, Ellis—if anything, you should step things down.” Ellis’s parties are a wild orgy of illegal activity all on their own.

  “By the way,” he says, leaning in, “the Count council is going down right now.”

  “Why aren’t you there? You’re my eyes and ears!”

  “Relax, soon as Oliver showed, I ditched. I wanted to check out the competition.” He waves a foil wrapped condom at me. “You wanna test drive this baby?”

  “No.” I bat down his hand. “I can’t believe this. My fate lies in the hands of those lunatics, and it’s being decided right freaking now.”

  Ellis shakes his head dismissively. “You’re like at the bottom of the agenda. It’s going to take hours to get to you.” He knocks his shoulder into mine. “Enjoy yourself tonight. You never know when it’s going to be your last.”

  “Ellis!” I’m horrified by this.

  “I meant in the general sense, like on earth.”

  “You really know how to make a girl feel like crap,” I whisper as he ditches me for a skirt strutting by. I head over to Brielle, who’s busying herself with a tall, dark and handsome guy from East. I push him away in the direction of a bunch of skanks from his institute of questionable learning and he doesn’t fight it.

  “Can you believe he asked if I wanted to take his condom for a test drive?” Brielle mock gags.

  “Ellis used the same line.” I’m less impressed with Harrison with each passing hour. “Ethan’s probably selling one-liners for an extra dollar. Guess what?” I say annoyed. “The Counts might revoke my treble tonight.”

  “Get out!” She shouts over the music that Chloe just turned up all the way. “What the hell is a treble?”

  “Never mind,” I say, looking past her for signs of Gage. He texted about twenty minutes ago and said he was on his way.

  “I have my own news. Operation Take Down is in full effect.” Brielle gives a devious glance in Chloe’s direction. She pulls a couple of small orange-colored packets from her jeans and wands them in front of me.

  “What’s that?” Looks like Kool-Aid. Maybe she’s going to die Chloe’s skin until she looks like an Oompa Loompa. I’d so be down for that.

  “Ipecac.” She gives a sly smile. “Makes you puke on command. It’s for the baby.”

  The baby? Good God. Now I’m all kinds of relieved that poor kid is safely tucked away on Mom and Tad’s romantic rendezvous.

  “Oh, look!” Brielle’s eyes widen with a childish innocence. “Chloe’s drinking the same soda I am.” She tears one of the packets open and
dumps the thin syrup into the can. “Oops!”

  Gage waves from the entry.

  “I’m getting away from you now,” I say, just as Drake and Emily break out into what looks like an exaggerated resuscitation effort. If Brielle is lucky, Chloe will conduct her puke-fest in their direction.

  I meet Gage in the dark hall cluttered with bodies. His cologne gets to me before he does as we lunge into a hug.

  “Do you love me again?” he whispers playfully into my ear.

  “Always,” I say, offering a wet kiss to his cheek.

  “Look what I got.” He holds up two condoms and huffs a laugh.

  “Two?” One would have been pushing reality.

  “He said it was a family special.” Gage tweaks his brows as he tosses the tiny foil squares onto the stairs.

  I cover them with my hand and pull them back.

  “Maybe we should hang onto these.” I look up at him from under my lashes. “You know, just in case.”

  Gage and I lock eyes. The music fades, and the room spins. It swirls with an endless list of wanton possibilities.

  A pair of arms circle around my waist, a kiss is dropped on my cheek from behind. It can’t be Marshall because I don’t feel like I’ve been assaulted by a human vibrator. It feels genuine, born of love and wanting, a hint of the future locked in its warmth.

  Logan appears in front of me and waves a pair of condoms in the air.

  “Ambitious,” I say.

  “House special.” A not-so-guilty smile blooms on his face.

  Gage flicks the prophylactics away before holding up a pair of his own with a lust-born grin.

  “So what are you guys going to do with them?” I ask, slightly perturbed that both Olivers dare approach me with glorified water balloons, and on this the very same eve.

  A loud series of screams erupt from the family room and I catch a glimpse of Drake barfing up a lung. Nice work Brielle. Sometimes you have to choose your battles. Besides, I don’t need her taking care of Chloe for me. I plan on doing just that sooner than later. Speaking of the witch.

  “Looks like you’re about to have a real party,” she taunts, eyeing the condoms.

  “I gotta go,” Logan says it low, almost as an apology. “I need to get back to the meeting.” He leans in and caresses my cheek with his hand. Stay safe. I’ll call you when it’s through.

  OK. I turn my face into his fingers and press in a quick kiss. Let me know as soon as you can, whatever they decide.

  I will. He eyes the condoms still secure in Gage’s hand. Skyla… He shakes his head with a silent plea.

  I close my eyes and pull Logan into a hug. This is all such a disaster. Maybe the best solution is for me to be taken by the Counts forever.

  Logan pulls back and frowns into me. I’d be the best man at your wedding before I ever let that happen.

  I watch Logan as he heads out the door.

  I wonder if he’ll be the best man or the groom.

  Chapter 78

  Gage on Top

  So who knew puking could inspire more puking? And that the smell of said puke could proliferate throughout the entire house both upstairs and down?

  The party quickly moves out back because as soon as people get slightly buzzed off the hard lemonade Ethan decided to poison the population with, they feel the need to thank him by way of regurgitating at his feet.

  “It must taste just as good coming up as it does going down because they’re still lapping it up,” I observe.

  I’m amazed at the level of debauchery Ethan and Chloe have impinged upon the Landon household in just a few short hours.

  “So I was thinking…” Gage starts slow as he leans against the trunk of an evergreen. His face is washed in blue shadows from the Cheshire Cat’s moon grinning up above. Gage is amazing, monolithic in his dark carnal beauty. I’m a fool for not taking him into the woods and having my way with him—a wild romp, something quick and dirty that I could really sink my teeth into. Logan bounds to the forefront of my mind like a spring and I shake him loose with a dull smile. “I’d like dibs on prom,” Gage says it shy, so achingly sweet it breaks my heart.

  “You want dibs?” I tilt into him amused. “Is that where we’ve drifted? This is our time—remember? You and me. Nothing Logan can do or say can stop that.”

  “And after the war?” His brows narrow, stiff as spears. They offer a menacing look I’m not used to seeing on his angelic face.

  “I guess Logan wants to know if there’s still a chance.” I lose my gaze in the thicket behind him.

  He takes up my hands and kisses them. “Is there?” A hint of desperation clots up the air. It catches me off guard.

  “You tell me.” I get up on the balls of my feet and press in a tear-filled kiss. “Tell me, Gage. Lay out my future so I don’t have to think. I can’t stand this.” I tremble into him as a mean quiver races up my spine. I want the “me” from the future to get this present version off the hook. I’ll blame every asinine decision on her and live with whatever fate she decides upon. It’s the ultimate copout.

  Gage nods, never wavering his stare, and leans in with a kiss.

  A breeze picks up, inspiring him to pull me in tight. He slips his hands inside my sweater and warms the flesh over my back with his palms.

  An image appears. I take a breath in anticipation of what I might see. Shapes and shadows emerge in the dark world behind his lenses and my discomfort increases. It could be anything, anyone.

  A tangle of legs writhe over one another.

  I smell Marshall at the end of this necrotic rainbow. If it is him—swear to God I’ll join the barf brigade. Or worse, what if Gage is unwittingly about to expose me getting down and dirty with Logan in the future. This is so very wrong. I should pull back, push him off me with all my Celestra strength, but I can’t look away. This is the train wreck of my own doing.

  I watch the calves as they smooth over one another. The sepia-toned shadows lend a bronzed look to our flesh, makes us appear altogether inhuman. The image pans out and there I am—my overexposure cleverly hidden by the body of a man. He’s lean and mean, perfect in every way. I see the outline of his bare frame, his broad shoulders, a dark thicket of hair.

  Oh my God, I moan into the kiss not sure if it’s relief or heartbreak.

  It’s impossible to believe those hands clawing at his back, that the hair glinting in the light belongs to me. He turns his face and I see his smile, the dark impression of a dimple approving the situation—Gage. I can feel the lust, the rapture. You could fuel a nuclear generator with the passion pouring from the two of us. We light the sheets on fire with the slow dance of our affection. I can watch for hours, addicted to the surge inside me, the sudden need for Gage to fulfill all this wishful thinking.

  A girl’s voice cries from the woods.

  I pull back and pant into Gage—bite down a smile as I gaze into his glowing eyes. It takes everything in me to turn my attention to the dark hole of the woods from where the scream initiated.

  Michelle appears, haggard and disheveled. She crashes into the two of us and plucks us apart. “I saw it.” She pants into the woods as a growl—an aggressive bark grows in ferocity. “It’s coming.” She seizes Gage by the shirt and shakes him.

  Out of the shadows pounces a large beast with three extravagantly pissed off heads—Cerberus.

  “Shit,” I say, cowering behind Michelle, who happens to be cowering behind Gage.

  He reaches down and picks up a stick with the speed of a ninja. “Where the hell did this thing come from?”

  “She must have pulled it out of the mirror,” I say, keeping an eye on all three snapping jaws.

  Michelle buries her dark curls into Gage’s back before peering over his shoulder. “I’ve been terrified of that thing since I was old enough to see the stupid painting on the side of the gym. I hate that monster. I thought it was fucking fake!”

  “It is fake,” I say, “sort of.” That mirror must work like the rest of Demetri’s ha
unted crap. Whatever you’re afraid of has the power to manifest itself just by touching one of his effed up artifacts. I suppose it’s too late to suggest she develop an aversion to magnificent sunsets, or warm glazed donuts and chocolate milk.

  It snaps at Gage, nips him in the wrist before circling around the three of us and hightailing it into the thick of the party.

  The crowd erupts in screams as an infinite amount of expletives float up into the stratosphere.

  I yank out my cell while Michelle and Gage head over.

  Shit has hit the fan ~S

  Really, there were probably a million other things I could have said to Marshall that were more to the point and less cliché in nature.

  You’ve created eunuchs of both Oliver boys with a dull blade from the kitchen?

  I don’t even know what the hell he’s talking about, but then again, the feeling is mutual I suppose.

  We have an uninvited party guest—Cerberus!!! Help now! ~S

  You’re having a party without me?

  I can practically hear the indignation in his voice.

  I take a few steps closer toward the chaos and see Gage trying to ward it off to the side yard, but it’s just sitting there, growling all of its ugly heads at him.

  A large gathering of people have amassed in a circle and apparently find it perfectly sane to gawk at the alien being.

  Ellis blinks into it several times. “Dude, I am so tripping!”

  Marshall appears by my side and sighs heavily at the scene. “Is that all she brought?” He seems rather unimpressed.

  “God, I hope so,” I say, trying to push Marshall over to the demonic canine but he resists.

  “I’m not going out there. I doubt it would refrain from trying to attack. I’m in no mood for confrontation.”

  “What do you mean you’re in no mood for confrontation?” I push him in the chest. “You have to help. We are having a supernatural episode that’s about to turn this entire island into a freak show once the rest of the planet figures out what kind of shit goes down here. Now go!” I point hard at the tempered crowd.

  “I’m amused by your show of prowess—and by the way, do feel free to bring such heated aggression into the bedroom. In fact, I say we initiate the first rule of our union—spirited disagreements are only to be conducted sans clothing underneath the sheets.” He picks up my hand gives a kiss as if to sound the gavel on his pornographic solution to marital discord.