Celestra Forever After

by Addison Moore

  Emma straightens. “We had an argument. I went to a friend’s party. He”—her lids hang heavy as she infers the vile Fem—“was visiting his grandfather on the island, and one drink led to the bedroom.”

  Barron nods as if this were a purely clinical conversation. “Emma and I cleared the air over the following week and resumed our relationship. I never inquired who this person was. I simply let sleeping dogs lie. It wasn’t until he returned to his grandfather’s estate that Emma brought up the possibility.” He folds his hands and presses out a placid smile. “Gage, when I tested your Nephilim lines, I was pleased to see you had the Levatio markers—a weakened lineage from my branch of the family. As you know, I’m a Levatio myself. That was enough for me.” He dips his chin. “Regardless, I don’t really care what genetics have to say. Gage—you are my son and no one else’s.”

  “Shit.” Gage bends his head back and lets out a groan. “He put me here.” He glances over at Emma. “He was securing a post for his demented lineage. But why two? Why not stop at Wes?”

  “Good question.” I try to rack my brains for a seemingly logical explanation, but per usual, with the Fems, there isn’t one. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, I swear.”

  Gage gets up and heads for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Emma tries to follow, but Barron holds her back by the hand.

  “To get to the bottom of this. If I’m going to fix things with Skyla, I might as well have all the information I need.”

  “I’m going with you.” I hop up and meet him out by his truck. “You ready to shake the truth out of Demetri?”

  Gage lets out a breath and a plume of white smoke unfurls into the fog as if he were a dragon. “Demetri isn’t about the truth, you and I both know that.”

  “Then where are we going?”

  “To see the only being in the universe who might tell us all we need to know.”

  15

  Angels and Monsters

  Skyla

  The eye of God is omnipresent. He sees even the things you wish could remain unknowable—the very perilous things that can cast your soul into the eternal fire where the flames are never quenched.

  I string out prayers from Paragon to paradise like a laundry line dripping with tears.

  To the God eternal, invisible, immortal—the all-knowing God—the one who pursues us with the blood of his son—how on earth could things have gone so wrong for me and the boy I love? Gage and I shared an earnest affection, something heartfelt, primal yet intense on a cerebral level. He was the nucleus of my world—still is. How can it be that I’m in love with someone who’s spawned from a deviant like Demetri Edinger? And here I had judged my earthly mother for pining for the beast that murdered my father, and, yet, he gave life to the boy who stole my heart—my husband. This is all far more twisted, more demented than I can wrap my head around.

  I drive the Mustang to Marshall’s house and hop out, sprinting for the door. I give a few wild knocks before twisting the knob and stepping inside.

  “Marshall?” I call out, and my voice comes back to me in an echo. The French doors toward the rear of the house sit opened, and I rush right back out into the crisp Paragon air. “Marshall?”

  A sharp gasp emits from the barn, so I make my way over.

  High-pitched whispers ensue, then giggling. Holy hell, he’s got someone with him. My heart drops to my feet, and I’m momentarily removed from what’s really killing me.

  “Marshall?” I belt it out, annoyed.

  The horses stir and bray. Marshall comes out looking as if he just had a roll in the hay quite literally with straw covering the entire left side of his body.

  “Where were you just now?” I lean in with suspicion. “You look like holy hell.” I take him in with his rumpled hair, his shirt unbuttoned down the front, his rock hard abs slicked with sweat. “If I didn’t know better…” I let the words hang in the air so thick you could hook a coat on them.

  A sly grin plays on his lips. “You do know better, don’t you, Ms. Messenger.”

  “Who is she?” It comes from me barely audible.

  He cuts a quick glance toward the barn, guilty as hell.

  Those erotic dreams float right back to the surface, and it’s as if one is about to come true—or just had.

  “Marshall!” I clap my hand over my mouth.

  “Skyla,” he purrs, his lids hanging heavy. That cocky grin begs to set loose on his face.

  “Oh God, no.”

  “I believe the words you used just moments before were, ‘Oh God, yes, yes, yes.’”

  “Shit!”

  “Language.” He gives a sly smile as he walks on by.

  “I knew you and your man parts were up to no good,” I say, shaking a fist while following him back into the house.

  “Trust me, it was very good. I should know, I was there—and so were you.”

  “God, does that mean those dreams I’ve been having were visions? Spill it, Marshall.” I touch my fingers to my temples. “On second thought, I’m not really ready to hear it. I’ve got a much bigger problem than having light drive sex with you.” And really? The future me is ridiculous.

  “You’re very astute in your assessment.” He pours a glass of water and offers it to me, but I refuse. “Heartbreak doesn’t become you. Do tell—what’s Jock Strap done now?”

  I lean in and touch my hand to his cheek. Those fine-tuned vibrations course through me, and I close my eyes a moment absorbing the splendor.

  “I know, Marshall. I know exactly what it was you didn’t want to tell me.”

  “I’m sorry my love.” He presses a kiss to my hand before cradling it in his. “It was withheld from me. I would have hacked him to pieces months ago should I have discovered this.”

  “I figured as much.” I gaze up at his auburn-colored eyes and stagnate, trying to stretch out this moment in time just a little while longer. “But why the hell would my mother keep this from me?”

  “I’ve questioned this myself. The only logical explanation is the balancing of the scales.”

  “The scales? Withholding the fact your daughter is dating—is married—to a real live breathing demon is unbalanced in any capacity. The only thing in balance here is my mother’s toxic brand of insanity.” Not that I think of Gage as a demon—not by a long shot, but Demetri is another story.

  “Excellent assessment.” His brows arch. “But that’s not what I was referring to. You see”—he presses his fingers together at the tips and averts his gaze as if he were somehow guilty in all this—“when I approached your mother all those years ago for your hand in holy matrimony she agreed quite willingly.”

  “Shaping my destiny without regard to my opinion? What’s new?”

  “At the time there was some talk of restoring balance to the kingdom creations—of which included the Nephilim—and that restoration would be rooted through a perfect branch without blemish—Celestra, of course.”

  “And?” I’m getting the feeling Marshall is taking the long road home.

  “And allowing me the opportunity to achieve dominion with a race of my own would upset the delicate harmony between the Sectors and the Fems. It would—how would you say? Give me the home field advantage.”

  “Oh my, God.” I smack him in the chest. “It’s all your fault Gage was turned into a Fem. You knew right from the beginning!”

  “Correction—I did not know ‘right from the beginning.’ And, second, it is impossible to ‘turn’ somebody into a Fem. This was appointed from conception, Skyla. He was never anything but.”

  The breath expires from my lungs as if I were just sucker-punched.

  “So you think my mother pulled Demetri into this?”

  “Absolutely not. It’s against the order of things for her to do so. He very much requested the placement. Demetri’s interest in your family has been ignobly woven through time—at the root of which is his unnatural obsession with your mother. I can imagine having you as his daughter-in-law on
ly fulfills the hole in his heart that continuously yearns for his Lizbeth.”

  “God, don’t call her that.” I grip my hair at the temples. “This is so twisted. I feel shell-shocked. I feel worse than that. I feel as though I’ve lost Gage. It’s as if death slapped me in the face again—just like it did last winter when I lost Logan. When he died, it was like I was standing at the edge of an invisible cliff. Every step I took felt as if I was about to fly into oblivion.” I shake my head. “I was so afraid.”

  “And now?” Marshall picks up my hand. The muscles in his jaw pop with concern.

  “I’m right back in that fog.” I glance out the window. “It’s like I’m the island, and the mist of grief creates a buffer from the rest of the world.”

  “Well, Ms. Paragon, I suggest you brace yourself. Life will never be a bed of roses.” He gently raises my chin with his finger when he says it. “In fact, you might just say it’s one horrific surprise after another.”

  “Boy, you’re a ball of sunshine.”

  Marshall illuminates in a fit of brilliance from the inside out. “Technically, I am.”

  “Marshall.” I collapse over him and hang on tight. “I don’t know what to do. I’m crazy in love with that boy, and, now, he’s exactly the person I should avoid.”

  “For whatever reason Demetri has let this become known. He could have hidden it until after you’ve had children—after young Oliver’s death.”

  A sharp ache sears through me at the mention of Gage dying.

  “I wish he would have left Gage alone—let him be mine, through and through. I want children with him one day. I love him, I don’t know how to stop loving him or if I ever want to.” I don’t. There. My heart is forever his, and that’s the way it’s going to be whether I like it or not.

  “He chose wisely with Jock Strap. I wondered if Demetri had bypassed you in an effort to target one of your offspring. To be truthful, your child with the Pretty One was where I put my money. I had no idea he would touch you—my own bride.”

  “Why dominion with me? I’m sure there were any number of Celestra women ready and willing to give up an ovary or two to help him populate his little magic kingdom.” Chloe anyone? And, per usual, the answer is no. Can’t say I blame him. Although, for a while, he wasn’t sure if she was the chosen one, thus the supervising spirit blunder he’s gotten himself into with her.

  “I’m afraid dominion only has value through the purest and highest form of a Nephilim being.”

  “Chloe is just as good a Celestra as far as bloodlines go.” I gag on my words because that would give Chloe Bishop exactly what she wanted, my sweet Gage.

  “As far as Celestra is concerned Chloe may be close to pure but she has zero Caelestis DNA. Your mother designed you to be one of a kind, Skyla. You hold a powerful lineage all on your own. And it’s that impeccable breeding that has Demetri fawning after your bloodlines.”

  “And you, too. Right?” I pull back and take him in. “You think my genes look pretty hot, and I’m not talking about the ones painted onto my ass.” I push him off.

  “I’d reprimand you on word choice, but I rather appreciated that last remark.” He gives a lewd grin as his eyes slide down my thighs. “And, for your information, there’s one more element that needs to be present before dominion could ever be achieved.”

  “Let me guess, it’s not enough that you need me to bear your children—you need to yank out my beating heart and eat it, too? I’m sure Demetri is especially looking forward to that part.”

  “It does involve that very organ.” He squints with mild disgust. “Our hearts need to beat in sync—in other words, both parties must be equally smitten. Without true love, dominion could never be achieved.”

  “True love.” The words tremble from my lips. That’s what Gage and I have. We’re already half way to achieving dominion for the wickedest Fem of all.

  Something soft and wet touches my ankle, and I glance down to find a flesh colored lizard staring up at me.

  I let out a scream loud enough to set off every car alarm on the island.

  “Relax.” Marshall bends over and picks it up. “It belongs to that new addition to the Oliver nitwit collection. He’s forever dragging refuse into the house. Did you know he’s sleeping with Shelly?”

  “Liam and Michelle Miller?” I’m momentarily lost imagining the coupling—not to mention the fact Marshall just equated her to refuse.

  The creature unfurls its fruit-by-the-foot tongue, and I give another shrill scream.

  “Get that thing away from me.” I hop to the other side of Marshall.

  “Now, now—it’s no bigger than a garden snake.”

  “It’s prehensile and wants to touch me in delicate places.” I shudder at the thought because it so almost did. “It’s officially my enemy.”

  Marshall leers at me. A dirty smile plays on his lips, but he won’t give it.

  “I’ve something prehensile that wants to touch you in delicate places.”

  “Yes, well, according to your inter-dimensional jaunts—and my dreams—you already have.”

  The front door blows open, and I jump at the sight of Gage. There’s a fire in his eyes, and I can tell he’s about to cure Marshall of ever wanting to touch me in delicate places again.

  “Never mind. I’ve got bigger creatures to deal with.” I latch onto Marshall as if we’re a unified front.

  “Skyla, we need to talk.” Gage stains the doorway like a shadow imprinted against the brilliant white fog seeping in behind him. He’s so beautiful, so perfect and it’s all I can do not to drop to my knees and weep.

  My phone goes off, and I fish it out of my pocket. It’s a text from Coop.

  Have you seen Laken? Her roommate says she never came home last night.

  “Laken is missing,” I say, looking up at Gage and all I see are his glowing blue eyes. “It looks like it’s time to visit your brother.”

  Gage

  “Skyla,” her name escapes my lips like the saddest song—nothing but regret, laced with all of my affection.

  Her hair splays out with strands of gold. Her cheeks radiate as if she’s just seen the face of God. My eyes can’t help but trail down her perfect little body and wonder if I’ll ever have the chance to touch it again.

  “Marshall”—she turns to Dudley—“take me to Host to pick up Coop, and then get us to the Transfer as quick as possible.”

  His features contort in a look of mild amusement. “I do believe you’ve mistaken me for the mass transit system. There’s a bench just outside the gates.”

  “Let me,” I whisper, taking a bold step forward in the process. “I’ll teleport us to Host, and I think I can get us to the Transfer.” Hell, I know I can.

  “Marshall.” Skyla glares at him without acknowledging my offer. “You will take me to Host, and you will help Cooper and me find Laken—or all future barn action is off the table. Got it?”

  His cheek cinches to the side. “Sounds like we’ve places to go.” He picks up Skyla’s hand without hesitating.

  “Wait.” Logan steps inside. “Skyla, please.” Her entire body rotates into him. Skyla and Logan have a bond that has wrenched my heart on more than one occasion. Deep down I wonder if the situation were reversed if she’d cut him off the way she’s cutting me off. “Let me help you.” He glances in my direction. “Let the both of us help you. I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but, please, understand so is Gage. No one expected this. Nobody saw this coming, least of all him.”

  Skyla swallows hard, her gaze falling to the floor. “All right, but Marshall still comes.”

  Dudley scoffs. “As much as I’d love to see the Olivers bumble their way through the Transfer, or, God forbid, Tenebrous, I believe I’ve a barnyard dalliance to tend to.”

  “Marshall.” Skyla tugs at his hand. “Laken is in trouble, and I have a gut feeling only you can help get her out of this mess.”

  He leans into her, one inch too close to those perfect lips of hers
. “I am rather handy in a bind, aren’t I?” He’s quick to caress her cheek, and it takes everything in me not to dropkick him in the nuts.

  Handy in a bind. I shake my head. He’s Skyla’s spirit husband for whatever that’s worth, and apparently she views him as her personal savior. Dudley’s no savior. He’s all out for himself.

  I’d do anything for Skyla—do anything to save her, help her, love her. And now that she realizes who I am, a part of me wants to keep the hell away from her, but the illogical part of me, the part of me that is uncontrollably, flat out in love with her, says to hell with logic and reason. I’m in this. I love Skyla so damn much, I need to have her near me just to breathe. She might have been Logan’s wife once, and Dudley’s in the spiritual sense, but she’s my wife now, and I damn well plan on keeping it that way.

  Dudley takes up Skyla’s hand, and Logan latches onto her wrist. I reach out to do the same, and Dudley is quick to push me off.

  “Find your own mode of transportation. I don’t entertain Fems.”

  Skyla’s eyes widen into mine as the three of them blink away, leaving me in the stillness of this overgrown estate, alone.

  And, for the first time ever, I feel just that—alone.

  It’s ironic how life gives you what you want most at the exact moment you can’t have it.

  While the people around me dreamed of football scholarships and ivy-league schools, I dreamed of Skyla. Every breath, every heartbeat I’ve been gifted over the last few years has been fueled by that beautiful girl. She’s the reason I open my eyes in the morning—the reason I exist to begin with.

  I hone in all my energy thinking of Skyla—imagine her tender skin searing over mine—her butter soft kisses gliding down my body. I miss her. I miss her as if she’s been out of my life for far longer than a day. This feels like a rejection that spans the ages, an eternity that stretches back through both our lineages—all the way back to the beginning of time when the earth was still a gleam in God’s eye.