Celestra Forever After (36 page)

If my worst nightmare turns out to be true, then Skyla is going to hate me one day. Tonight maybe. She won’t know what to make of me. She’ll be nice about it at first, but then we’ll go our separate ways because it’s obvious we’ll have to.

“I want you in me.” Skyla clasps her warm fingers over my dick and plunges me inside of her.

“No way.” I pull out like jumping out of the path of a tornado. For sure until things are cleared up, the topic of kids is off the table. “We don’t want to chance anything, and I’m just about there.” I offer a wet kiss over her ear before opening the glove box to scout for protection.

“One day, we’re going to want to chance it.” She bites down on her strawberry smile. “We’re going to love each other just like this, and something beautiful is going to come from it. Do you know how exciting that will be?”

My heart sinks because Skyla has stars in her eyes. She’s dreaming of babies, and, if all goes according to the shit script my life seems to be sticking to, they will never exists.

She helps me roll it on, and I carefully press deep inside her.

Here. Right here is where I always want to be. Her heart thumps over my chest as I move in and out, slowly, savoring the ride one last time. This is nothing short of a kiss from heaven. This is everything I’ve ever wanted as far back as I can remember—and all the way into the distal future.

“I love you, Skyla.” It grunts out of me. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“I love you forever.” Her voice breaks up in jags with each thrust I give.

Forever. It was just a joke from the beginning.

I soak in this feeling as my love for Skyla explodes, shaves me right down to the bone. My body trembles into hers uncontrollably, unrepentantly just like my love for her.

She lands a kiss over my temple before securing her grip over me.

I lean up and catch her face in the shadows—beautiful as a night poem written across a dark canvas. Speaking of which…

“I wrote you something.” I brush my lips over her forehead.

“You did?” Her face brightens.

“Before we were married. I wrote it for our wedding day.” I press a kiss over her scalding cheek and hold it there.

“I want to hear it.”

“Remind me, and I’ll read it to you later. It’s tucked away in my bedroom somewhere.”

“You are the sweetest most thoughtful person on the planet, Gage Oliver.” She dots the sentiment with a kiss. “Speaking of bedroom. I talked to married housing today.” Her expression sours. “It’s still way more than we could ever afford.”

“Mmm.” I brush the hair from her face and drink her down like this, naked in my arms.

“But we’ll figure something out,” she purrs the words over my neck. “We can’t just keep sneaking around your parent’s house. God knows I’ve bumped into Kresley in her no-see-um PJs on more than one occasion.”

Crap, so have I. “I’ll tell my mom no more weekend slumber parties. Enough is enough.”

“I’d protest, but I’m looking forward to giving her the boot myself. I can’t wait until it’s just you and me.”

“You and me,” I echo, afraid we might be fleeting. I run my hand down to her soft curls at the base of her hips. “You didn’t have a good time tonight.”

“I had the best time.” She runs her fingers down past my belly button and gives me a scratch. “Anytime we’re together it’s a good time.”

“You’re sweet, but here I am trying to bribe you into liking Mondays, and, meanwhile, your new husband engages in greedy sex.”

“Greedy?” She belts out a laugh, and the entire truck bounces with her. “You’ve got to be kidding me. If anything I’m the greedy one. I can never get enough of your love—or your body.” Her fingers graze my balls, and I suck a quick breath through my teeth.

“Yeah, well, just to keep in good standing with your body, I plan on returning the favor. I pepper her with kisses before landing my mouth on hers. I reach down and dip my fingers into her warmth and groan. Skyla feels like silk, wet from our love. My fingers run over her folds, and her breathing picks up a notch. If she leaves me, and she should, I’m going to miss the hell out of loving her—touching her, breathing her. I slip a finger deep inside her body, and she bucks into me. I work my thumb over her folds at the same time. I want nothing more than to pump my hand in and out of her all night—find a million new ways to be with her because it might be the very last time.

I take my time getting her there, loving her like this, dousing my mouth over hers like pouring gasoline on a fire.

“
Gage
.” She spikes her nails into my back as her body quivers into mine. Skyla climaxes right there in my hand, warm as summer rain.

This is still our moment. As long as I keep my mouth shut, we can still be Skyla and Gage, loving each other like this night after night—lost in our proverbial forever.

But I know I have to tell her.

As soon as I find out the truth.

Logan

Paragon trembles under the violent deluge of rain. It baptizes the island like sickles falling from heaven. Dudley’s home throbs under the driving rain like a sexual current, and all I can think of is Skyla—and Gage loving her. It plays like some pornographic reel in my mind that I can’t shut off. Skyla laying her hands on his chest. Gage peeling her clothes off in record time. The slow dance to the bed with the two of them locked at the lips.

“Did you hear me?” Liam kicks my foot off the coffee table.

“What?” I groan, replacing my shoe. Liam and Michelle Miller have been droning on about everything under the sun for the last half hour. It’s clear she didn’t stop here to “drop something by.” In fact, she never once asked where Dudley was. She’s been too busy yapping it up with my brother. I should have known earlier when she asked where we were staying there might be trouble.

“Never mind.” He slumps back and offers Michelle a goofy grin. “So what’s keeping you busy these days?”

Her lids fall low. “You, if you’ll let me.” Her lip jets out as if she’s pouting.

And so it begins. I glance back in the direction of the kitchen where a strange glow lights up the area.

“What about you?” Michelle purrs the words with a moan. “What’s keeping you busy?”

“Hopefully you.” Liam starts panting like he just ran a race.

“Maybe we should go upstairs and see if we can keep each other busy for the next few hours? All night if you’re lucky.”

“Oh, I’m feeling lucky all right.”

Lucky like a junkyard dog. Michelle Miller has sniffed more balls than a Golden Retriever. I think she bagged Dudley under this very roof.

He helps her off the couch as the two of them head for the stairs.

Liam nods over to me. “Do me a favor, and let Emma know I won’t be able to make it tonight.”

“Not a problem.”

I’ve been meaning to talk to Barron. Not sure how to bring up the fact I’m having doubts about Gage. But, aside from that, at least I can fill him in on Wesley’s plans to harvest the earth of Nephilim. He’s a genuine piece of shit, and, yet, a part of me has a hard time hating him because I keep seeing Gage.

I head over to the kitchen, and that brilliant glow magnifies in strength.

“Dudley?”

“Be gone, Oliver,” he barks from the dining room, so I head in that direction.

Dudley is seated at the table with a tall glow stick of a man that I recognize from the faction war, Delphinius. Next to him is the freak with one eye, Rothello. Him I recognize from Ahava. He’s a member of the foursome that makes up the Decision Council along with Skyla’s mother.

“What’s going on? Big celestial powwow? I grab a seat, and the three of them back up as if a foul odor just seeped into the vicinity, which it probably did.

“If you must know”—Dudley leans in, his entire face radiates like a flame—“the Sectors have been bested by your defunct nephew. I’ve always known he was up to no good with his boy-next-door face, his muscles for brains, but I had no idea how livid I’d be when I found out.” Marshall slams his hands down on the table so hard the room shakes. The veins protrude on his neck, thick as cables. “Everybody out!” His voice roars right through my bones.

The room evaporates, and a steely fog blooms around me. I’m standing on the porch at the Oliver house, freezing as shit without a jacket in the pouring rain.

I look up at my old home, and I wish to God I could relive the last two years. My heart breaks because I can’t—because a part of me is too afraid to face what might have just come to pass.

I make my way to the door and turn the handle.

I’m not sure what made Dudley so livid with Gage, but I’m not going to rest until I find out.

Ready or not Gage, here I come.

11

The Wicked Truth

Skyla

After our little romp down at Devil’s Peak, I ask Gage to take me home so I can get a few more things for my overnight bag. He drops me off and lets me know he needs to gas up real quick, but I know for a fact he’s had enough of Tad’s bullshit. I make a beeline for my room and listen as a rumble of voices seep in from next door. It’s been twenty minutes of Mia and Melissa fighting nonstop. I feel terrible. I keep meaning to talk to Mia about life in general. I know how crappy things can be in this house, but, realistically, I can’t get either one of us out of this situation.

A loud rattle emits from their bedroom, then footsteps trample their way downstairs. There’s that.

I’d better head down to see if there are casualties. And then, of course, I’ll have to face Mom. Both she and Mia have been giving me the cold shoulder as of late, I’m assuming because of my non-presence. If they knew that Gage and I were official, then they might actually understand. It pains me to keep something so important from them. Not to mention, they’ll probably be pissed to high heaven when they find out I’ve been keeping something so big to myself. Maybe I should just get it over with? I’ll just pull them to the side and let them in on my big secret, and when Gage gets back, we can all go out for a quick bite to eat. Not that any of us have any cash to burn, but a forty-nine cent taco or a cup of coffee from the gas station might be in the works.

I speed down to the kitchen ready to tell Mom everything. I’m sick of all the secrets. I’m sick of all the lies. I’m finally going to—

“What the hell?” I stop short of the dining room and take a breath.

Tad sits at the table with a napkin twisted up each nostril while everyone around him proceeds to nosh on their bacon and eggs as if his ability to sprout spontaneous tusks were an everyday occurrence.

“He’s got a severe nasal drip.” Mom glances up before returning to the task of folding miniature sanitary napkins for her husband’s currently defunct sniffer.

Drake points his fork hard over in Tad’s direction. “You probably have your brain leaking out of your nose. You hear about that all the time now. I bet that’s what’s happening.”

I shake my head. “Makes total sense.”

“We’re having breakfast for dinner. Care to join us?” Mom asks, rather curt.

I reconsider my stance on letting them in on my nuptial standing while Tad oozes his brains out all over the table.

“No thanks. Emma probably has something for us.” A nice hot bowl of hate. I swear that woman can stand me a little less every day. To think what she would do if she knew I was in her son’s bedroom night after night fucking his brains out.

“Skyla”—Mom comes in close with Misty in tow—“you’ve been spending an awful lot of time at the Oliver’s house. Are you sure you’re not overstaying your welcome?” Her brows knit together as if this is a real concern.

Please, with all the people taking up residence here, I’m surprised Tad hasn’t handwritten me a thank you yet.

“It’s fine,” I say. “Emma hasn’t said a word.” Because she’s too busy giving me the cold shoulder. I crimp a smile.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Tad squawks. “She and that linebacker cost us fifty percent more in our grocery bill each month. With the two of them gone, we’re already slashing our expenses in half.”

“Don’t worry, Pops.” Drake strides in with his new bride, Bree. “I made some serious dough today.” He plunks down a wad of bills on the kitchen table, and everyone in the room gathers around to gawk at the pile of green like we’ve never seen it before—mostly because we haven’t.

“Holy shit!” Melissa barks. “Did you hold up a liquor store?”

Good God, that’s what it’s come to. All along we’ve been criminals in the making.

“I’d like to know the same thing.” I grip my chest. I’m sure just a small fraction of that can land Gage and me in a place of our own.

“Nah”—Drake scoops it back up and spreads it out, fanning himself with the loot—“I sold out. I’m no art dealer. Instead, I jumped on the T-shirt bandwagon, and before we knew it, we were doing the green lettuce cha ching.” He smacks Bree on the bottom.

“What kind of T-shirts?” Mom’s eyes round out like saucers. A bundle like that can buy a lot of baby shoes.

“I bet they were hemp.” Mia shoots me a knowing look.