Throne of Fire (Celestra Forever After Book 5)

by Addison Moore

  Skyla steps in looking every bit the enchantress, her hair spiking wildly over her shoulders, her lips parted, crystal eyes set on mine. “You are a work of art, twice over.”

  “Your turn, sweetheart. Off with the clothes,” I grunt it out like a command.

  Skyla hitches her thumbs into those black velvet pants that made me insane all night and slowly pulls them down, creating a hard curve with her spine, her head tipped up as she looks to me. Skyla is the perfect tease. Always has been. It’s good to know some things never change. Just like our love. Some things really are forever.

  “I can take it from here.” I run my hand up her back and take off her bra with a flick of my fingers. Yes, it’s an adolescent move, but one that I’m damn proud I mastered. The girls spring free, and my mouth waters just watching them bounce in turn.

  “You’re a naughty boy, Oliver.” She presses those warm globes over my bare chest, and an agonizing groan works its way up my throat, so painfully loud you’d think she had just electrocuted me.

  “I’m about to get a whole lot naughtier.” I slip her panties off, and my hand glides to that heated place it’s been craving to be for a month solid. It’s true. I craved Skyla and her delicious body even in the presence of the king. I couldn’t help myself. Skyla is a meal you don’t forget, you don’t ever want to end, and you could never get enough of.

  We pull one another down to our knees, landing on the thick comforter that shelters us from the floor. Skyla offers a slow smile up at me as she takes me in as if she’s never seen me before.

  “I can’t believe you’re back. I’m going to thank you, Gage. And I’m going to thank you for choosing our family, too.”

  Skyla lands her lips over my neck, soft at first, then with a determination that assures me she’s about to take a bite, and she does.

  “Shit,” I seethe as I take in the burn and drink it down. Skyla is a powerful elixir. I’m fully convinced that she could have brought me back from the dead all on her own. Her lips rake down my body at an accelerated pace as she nips and bites, kissing her way to the part of me that’s most enthused to see her. I pull her up over me as we lie down and feast off one another long into the night. Skyla’s entire body bursts like an earthquake over me as she trembles out all of her affection. I twist and pull until she’s beneath me, her wrists pinned high over her head, her mouth just a breath away from my own.

  “Gage”—she whimpers—“I don’t think we have a condom up here.”

  “We won’t need one.” Instantly, I know this. “I have the power to give life and the power to deny it.” I brush a quiet kiss along her cheek. “I think we’re all caught up on kids at the moment.”

  Her chest bucks with a laugh. “Oh, honey, you don’t know the half of it.” Her lips press tight a moment as her eyes glitter with tears. “Welcome home, Gage. I missed the hell out of you.”

  “I’m here to stay.” I leash my tongue to hers in one long, hot kiss until I’m ready to burst, and then I’m in her, moving slowly at first as if it were our very first time. It’s been so long since we’ve done this without a condom it feels like pure bliss, an explosion of passion, a detonation of love. “Shit,” I moan as my head arches back.

  Skyla is bliss, passion, and love. There is nothing better than this. It’s as if I can see inside of her with simply the touch of my skin, take in the scent of her hair, her aura like the sweet perfume it is. Making love to Skyla in my mortal frame was never this intense, this gratifying by a long shot. I move in easy, thrust in hard, and everything in between. I make it last twice as long, and judging by those sweet whimpers, Skyla approves of my moves. Skyla and I have never been shy in the bedroom. The two of us test out a whole new series of moves, loving, laughing, wrestling it out with our angelic powers for the first time in the sack. It’s a match of the ages. Skyla wins hands down. I let her win, though. Just like I’m going to let her win with the Factions.

  I hope.

  Logan

  Gage Oliver was indeed a gift to us all on Christmas. It was a fitting and beautiful day for his return, a glorious end to an arduous nightmare. As soon as I took off from Barron’s last night, I watched the blotchy dark clouds eating up the sky like a malignancy. In the distance, in the direction of Raven’s Eye, a splatter of crimson speckled the horizon as if someone shot up the atmosphere and the sky was bleeding.

  I hit the sheets and fell asleep, face down like a dead man. The plan was to sleep in late, well past noon, really get my new body some much-needed rest, recharge my cellular structure, and heal from a long day of welcoming back my favorite brother, Gage. But all of my good plans quickly fell to shit once my subconscious began to churn. At first, I thought I was dreaming, Gage and Skyla in the butterfly room, stripping one another of their clothes, her mouth on the base of his neck like a threat. Then one kiss led to a display of aggressive sex and I was jolted awake, my body forced in a sitting position from out of a dead sleep. But the nightmare continued. Gage on Skyla. Skyla on Gage. I could touch, feel, hear, and smell every damn moment of their marathon love-fest, and I had Candace Messenger to thank for that. It didn’t take long for me to figure that one out. Hell, I was only three minutes in when the thought hit me. It was the curse she laid on my back. Candace Messenger has made sure that I have a front and center seat to anything Skyla and Gage decide to do behind closed doors. And the madness, the fun didn’t stop after the sun tried its best to pierce the membrane of fog lying over this island. No. It’s damn near nine in the morning, and scenes from last night keep playing over and over again because it’s obvious Candace is making sure I hit the replay button every damn second.

  A horrid groan works its way from my throat as I toss my legs off the side of the bed and bury my head between my knees. The urge to vomit is strong. I can’t fight it. Don’t want to. I’d give anything to take my mind off their incessant fucking for one measly second. But the nausea subsides and the spotlight shines brighter on both of their heat slicked bodies. The writhing of limbs, the clawing of nails, the bite marks they’ve inflicted upon one another last night only seem to grow far more vivid.

  “Shit.” I stagger my way into the bathroom. There is only one thing that can be done, and damn it all to hell if I’m not going to do it. The only way to shut off the show is to kiss Skyla, and that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

  I throw myself in the shower, toss on the same jeans and flannel I wore last night, shove my feet into my boots, and barrel downstairs, the porn reel in my mind still stuck on a pubic-riddled loop—Gage’s. Skyla, come to find out, is virtually hair-free.

  The TV in the living room is on, and I find Lexy, Michelle, and Liam all laughing it up while watching Elf. That too has been playing on a loop since November, and I for one would give anything to trade my mental motion picture for that one.

  “Morning, sunshine!” Lex is on her feet and on me before I can snatch my keys off the counter. “I made you breakfast.” Her finger curls under my chin, and all I can manage is a grunt as I stalk my way through the living room.

  “Hey, dude.” Liam nods my way. “Hope you don’t mind, but—”

  Michelle cuts him off while landing a bronzed leg over his body as her robe opens up in the front. “Liam is staying with me in the Wonderground.”

  He nods. “Dudley says he’s tired of our shit. And there’s no way I’m banging headboards with Barron and Emma thumping right back.”

  “Eww,” Lexy says it for me.

  “Sounds good,” I manage as I head out the front door. It’s as if the present world is dissolving and all I see in my visual field is Gage’s bare white ass, Skyla’s bouncing tits—beautiful as they are, I can’t seem to get my bearings.

  “Hey, Logan!” Lexy steps onto the porch just as I hit the truck. “That mother of Skyla’s—she’s a real trip.”

  I pause with my fingers hooked into the door of the truck and freeze as I look right at her, beckoning her for more without the ability to utter a single word. My mouth
is filled with sexual cotton, with Skyla’s flesh, her wetness, her love, and none of it was ever meant for me.

  Lex clicks her tongue. “She is freaking insane if she thinks I can be bought to do her bidding.”

  “Good for you, Lex,” I manage, my curiosity rooting my feet to the ground. “What kind of things?”

  “Things I wouldn’t dare speak of. Don’t worry. I have nothing to do with her wicked plan.” A shock of lightning fills the sky, bright as a nuclear detonation, followed by a demonic grumble, but Lex doesn’t bat a lash. Most likely she hasn’t added up the celestial wrath-based pieces. “I’m fully devoted to you, Logan. There’s no way, no how I’m letting you go! I’m fighting for us, Logan. We’re worth the fight!” she shouts as I offer an amicable smile and wave while speeding the hell out of the driveway.

  Lex is going to fight for us. Candace is fighting for a different us. Skyla and me. I give a hard blink into the road, trying my best to follow the median right down the main strip, making all the necessary turns to get me to the Landon house.

  I’m coming for you, Skyla. Not in the way your mother would like, but hell if she isn’t getting her way just a little bit.

  Sweat bites through me as Skyla’s moans pick up. Three times Gage brought her to a climax last night, and each time that I relived it my body broke out in a steam bath.

  “I cannot take this shit, Candace,” I growl as I rush up the Landon driveway, blocking in three cars in the process. I duck out just as the rain picks up and run like mad up the stairs that lead to the front door. I don’t bother knocking. Instead, I take a chance and, sure enough, let myself in. I walk straight into the family room and find Skyla and Gage chatting it up with Bree and Emily. Drake and Ethan are parked in front of the television while some hunter in Alaska field dresses an elk. Her mother and stepfather are hassling about something in the dining room, and her sisters are playing with the boys on the floor. There are more kids under five in that house than I can count.

  Skyla looks up at me, startled to see me. Her face morphs from surprised to worried. I don’t see Gage anymore. The rest of the room disappears. It’s just Skyla and me as the flames of this sexual fire sear me from the inside.

  “Logan?” Her voice stretches out, impossibly thin, and unbeknownst to her, the taste of her body is still fresh in my mouth as if it were me she had rolled around with for hours last night.

  I pull her in by the cheeks, my fingers pressing in a little too firmly, and I can feel her struggling to push away, to recoil from my monstrous touch. But she’s not going anywhere. I land my lips over hers, and it’s as if a light switch flicks off and my entire body relaxes for the first time in twelve stressful hours. I pull back and blink a smile at her before yanking Gage in and repeating the effort—pulling him in by the face and smacking him a quick one right over the lips as well, and I cringe because I happen to have firsthand knowledge of where those lips have been, and they have been everywhere, even places I would have thought Skyla would have disallowed them.

  “Just so happy you’re home.” I push out a smile because as much as it’s true, I have never been more full of bullshit. My hands fall to my sides in the event Gage has the power to hear me, and I have no doubt he does. Gage is the last person I will share knowledge of my new gift with. The last thing I want is for him to tiptoe around Skyla sexually. Nope. I’m sure that’s exactly what Candace wants, but she’s not getting it. Not from me anyhow.

  “I’m happy to be home.” Gage socks me on the arm just enough to let me know he means it. “What are you up to today?”

  “I know what he’s up to.” Bree steps in with her newly dyed red hair a shade too dark, her face a little harder, worn from her newfound financial worries. “Everybody on the island is talking about that party you’re throwing New Year’s Eve. I bet you’re on your way to stock up that brand new kitchen.”

  “Kitchen.” Crap. Ellis and I seem to have forgotten one colossal detail about the party we’re pushing on everyone come New Year’s. Food. “I was actually thinking about having it catered.”

  “Pardon me!” Lizbeth and Tad trot over. Lizbeth looks every bit intrigued, but Tad looks pissed per usual. Why the hell is he here, anyway? Isn’t it time for him to head over to Raven’s Eye and get eaten by a Spectator? I might be rooting for the Spectator in this one. Suffice it to say, after witnessing the all-nighter Gage and Skyla pulled, my fuse is a bit short. “You wouldn’t by chance need a party planner, would you?” Lizbeth curtsies while asking. “One would think that after that marvelous Christmas party I threw, people would forget about that one headless body at the masquerade, but I’ve yet to yield a single request.”

  Tad gags as if he were choking on a chicken bone. “Marvelous Christmas party?” he balks so loud all the tiny eyes moving along the floor look up at him in fear. This is definitely not the right environment to raise the boys. I, for one, am glad Gage is back so that he and Skyla can both move to the Estates where they belong, as far away from Tad Landon as possible. “Might I remind you, wifey, that I nearly had my own head decapitated that night. And the thirteen hundred dollar bill from the contractor to repair the damage to the drywall is a stark reminder that you, my dear, should not be hosting events around town willy-nilly. Your shindigs are a health hazard, Lizbeth. Face it!” he barks so loud and yet not a single person protests his words. Tad Landon is preaching a gospel so true it might as well be red-lettered, and we all know it. “Shut down the show, Lizbeth. Take all your good plans, your best tips and tricks, put ’em in a chest, and we’ll take the ferry out and throw them overboard in deep waters. You are done. Dunzo!” He fans his arms out dramatically as if he were a referee, and I’m quite impressed with his range of motion, considering he spent a year with a contracture. “Finished I tell you. Finito! The last nail has been hammered into your party planning coffin. Heck, they’re drilling you in with screws. There is not one person living or dead on this island who is ever going to hire you again. You’re not going to be so much invited to a party, let alone trusted with the invitations. I mean, for God’s sake, what’s next on your killer agenda? A mass assassination? Spiking the Kool-Aid with strychnine? A chainsaw massacre?” His voice echoes around the room like a curse. “Leave it alone if you know what’s good for you. Not one person will ever come to you again, pleading for you to play hostess with the mostest body count. I mean who? Who in their right mind would do it?”

  Tad’s voice shuts off like a faucet, and yet the ringing in my ears carries his annoying tune.

  Bree, Emily, Gage, Skyla, and most heartbreaking of all, Lizbeth herself looks to me expectantly as they await my answer.

  Crap. I pump a dry smile.

  “Why, that would be me,” I say quietly as the room breaks out into a congratulatory cheer with Lizbeth’s being the loudest.

  “You won’t regret this.” She pats her chest as her eyes swell with tears of joy. “I promise you, Logan Oliver. I’m going to throw you a party that you will never forget!” She storms out of the room citing a million things to do, and Tad limps right along with her, thundering something about ordering body bags.

  “Wow, thank you.” Skyla blinks back tears of her own as she reaches over and takes up my hand. “You didn’t have to do that. I mean—I hate when Tad is so negative, but in all honesty, he had this one pretty much pegged.”

  I give a quick nod as if to say no problem before looking to Gage. “How many body bags do you think we’ll need?”

  He tips his head back and barks out a laugh. “Some things in life should be a surprise. Don’t you think?”

  I look over at Skyla with her beautiful smile, those sparkling blue eyes, and a sadness takes over because I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have wanted me to be privy to the gymnastic event that went on between Gage and her last night.

  “Everything about life these days feels like a surprise.”

  Emily gives a quiet laugh. “Dude, I’ve got about a dozen visions for each of you, but I’m on baby-making
time, so I think I’ll let the future surprise you all.” Her eyes darken as they narrow in on mine. “You’re about to have a major revelation.” Her lips curl up on the sides as she sports a wicked grin. “Surprise.”

  “About to have a major revelation,” I mutter as I drive out, off the main road and into the countryside of the Black Forest. The clouds sit fat and heavy, squatting over Paragon like a nuisance, dark and brooding as if they too were waiting for Lizbeth’s big tragic reveal. Although, we all know poor Lizbeth is simply getting a bad rap. It’s never her doing when things go south at one of her infamous get-togethers. And it won’t be her fault when things fall to shit at the bowling alley’s grand reopening. Nope. It will be anyone’s fault but Lizbeth’s.

  My phone buzzes, and I pull over, killing the engine. It’s a text from Coop.

  I’m losing my mind. I’m not a person who likes to ask for help, but I need someone, something, anything to help get Laken back to me. I’m desperate, dude. Yes, Wes has allowed me access to the Transfer during waking hours, but it’s what he does with her during those non-waking hours that has me pulling my hair out. Laken doesn’t see me as anything more than some sorry idiot who keeps holding onto the past. I’ve tried everything. I’ve had her alone. I’ve talked volumes about Ephemeral and all of the shit that went down, that led to us and she’s fine with it all because she’s neatly categorized it as a part of her sorry past. I’m just letting you know I’m down and out and desperate to strike a deal with any celestial entity that’s willing to talk. If you get any bright ideas, pipe up.

  I stare at my phone an inordinate amount of time. In the short span I’ve known him, Cooper Flanders has become like a brother to me. If I think I have problems, his are tenfold. And here I am worrying about Lizbeth—holding my breath over something that may or may not happen on New Year’s Eve. Come to think of it, Coop’s problems are directly related to the bullshit that went down the night of the masquerade. Laken was kidnapped at the event. I flick a glance out the window. But that’s not why I’m pissed, so lost, so beside myself at the moment.