Authors: Addison Moore
“Who are you looking for?” He shakes out his hair as if he didn’t already have a boner laid out to greet her.
“Who do you think I’m looking for? I’d bet good money Brielle dragged her out this morning.”
A dark, rotating stain in the sky catches my eye—a raven.
Nevermore circles and caws over the cheer squad like a siren. And there she is. Skyla wanders onto the field with Brielle just like I predicted. Her hair is pulled back, and just as I hoped, her shorts are better classified as a belt.
“You sicced your fucking bird on her?” I huff a laugh at Gage and his obsessive audacity. “Looks like someone’s got it bad. Thanks for the heads up, though. She’ll be easy to spot in a crowd.” I give him a playful swat to the stomach before taking off in her direction.
“Hey,” he barks, shouldering up to me. I pause in fear of dragging him along for the ride. I’d hate for Skyla to get caught up in his baby blues and get her hormones disorganized. “Don’t go shoving yourself down her throat.” He swallows hard as if he were going to threaten me but then aborted the effort. “Ellis is having a party tonight. We should hang out with her—see where it goes.” He squints into me with an earnestness I’m not used to seeing. “I’m into her.”
Shit.
I blink a smile at him. Poor, innocent, under-laid Gage. Although, I happen to fall into the under-laid category myself at the moment. “All right, listen. I’ll go over and ask Brielle to bring her to the party tonight. We’ll sit around in a big douchebag circle, and you can lead us into song. We’ll sing your favorite—‘Michael Row the Boat’, right?” I sock him in the arm, trying to keep things light. The thought of Gage and I battling over Skyla doesn’t sit right with me.
“Right.” He shoots me a dirty look before I take off.
Truth is, I don’t like Gage being so “into” Skyla. Gage is a great guy who happens to sport a face that apparently many a girl have wet their panties over, or so I’m told. Not the best combination when we’re both gunning for the same girl. I’ll have to remind him about all that destiny crap. Skyla
is
somebody’s destiny—and that “somebody” just so happens to be me.
I near the chattering circle of beautifully engineered estrogen, where Brielle is busy introducing Skyla to the rest of the cheerleaders. Michelle Miller is snapping away at her gum, rife with attitude and anger. I’ve got something I need to borrow from Michelle, but I’ll save the grief of Chloe’s diary for later. I can tell by the way Michelle is standing, with her feet set in defiance, that she’s going to give Skyla a hard time. I’d better interject. Maybe if the girls see I’m interested, they’ll go easy on her.
Brielle is still busy shooting off introductions as I close in on them. The fog swirls around Skyla as if it were zeroing in on her. It bows to her feet as if venerating her beauty. I catch a glimpse of those perfectly tanned legs up close, and my entire body detonates with wanting. My heart thumps erratically, and my tongue swells twice its size at the thought of actually vocalizing in her presence.
“Hey.” I can barely push the word out.
She turns around and flashes a hotter-than-hell smile, and everything in me freezes.
Damn, she’s hot.
I toss an arm over her shoulder like some ancillary response. Maybe if I touch her I can get my body to stop pulsating like a racehorse slamming against the gate. I’ve never felt so nervous about talking to a girl in my life.
“Trying out for the team?” God, I hope. I’d pay to watch her shake that body.
“Yeah, I think so.” She follows my arm with her gaze, and her face lights up ten shades of red. Great. She’s going to think I’m a player, a perv. Although, for whatever reason, I can’t seem to let go.
Skyla looks up at me with those amazing pale blue eyes just this side of grey. She looks nervous, as if uncertain of where this conversation should go next.
“Morning.” She says it low, seductive, and my stomach bites with heat.
“Morning.” The word fumbles from my mouth. I have a feeling Skyla can draw anything from my lips she’d like to hear.
I glide my hand over her bare arm, and my boxers twitch at the touch of her skin.
I keep staring at her, and I’m gonna have a really big problem right here, right now
.
Her cheeks burn with the intensity of an inferno.
God—I think I’m in love.
I gaze right into those pale blue puddles.
Love?
Skyla goes rigid. Her eyes widen with horror.
Shit! He heard me. I heard him, and he heard me.
She jumps three feet away as if my arm was on fire.
She heard me.
Holy freaking shit.
I back my way toward the team in a daze and smack into Gage.
“Is she coming tonight?” He doesn’t bother taking his eyes off her and neither do I. Gage is as infatuated by Skyla as I am, and this can only end one way.
“Forgot to mention it,” I whisper. “I’ll call Bree later and make sure she shows.” I don’t tell him about her being one of us—one of me, to be exact.
It’s rare to find a Nephilim, even rarer to find a Celestra, if indeed she is one.
My stomach clenches when I think of the prophecy Gage shared the other day.
I gaze over at Skyla as Brielle leads her into a routine. This is the girl. This is my happily ever after standing right here on West’s soil, and it takes my breath away just thinking about it.
A shadow falls over me from the sky. Nevermore flies in a death spiral and lets out a scream that vibrates for miles.
Something is definitely going on here. It makes me wonder if Skyla’s sudden move to Paragon is a coincidence after all. If she is a Celestra—if she’s the girl that Gage prophesied about—this is going to be big. Either way, it doesn’t really matter.
I’ve already surrendered my heart to her.
Gage
The night of Ellis’s big hormonal bash, I spend an undue amount of time in front of the bathroom mirror, combing my hair for twenty minutes like a freaking girl, wondering what the hell Skyla sees in Logan that she doesn’t see in me.
I trot downstairs and pass Mom in the kitchen on my way to grab a soda.
“Going somewhere?” She takes a step back and travels over me with a look that lets me know she doesn’t approve of my dressed-to-impress attire.
I’ve donned a polo. I can’t remember the last time I put one of these on, let alone wore it into the mosh pit of Ellis’s living room.
“Just across the street.” I try to sound casual, as if I didn’t just spend forty minutes in front of my closet. I don’t ever remember caring what I wore to one of Ellis’s parties before, let alone taking a fresh shower and throwing some gel in my hair like I was headed to winter formal. But I’m pretty sure Skyla might show, and I damn well want her to notice me.
Dad walks in and pauses, his fingers securing his glasses like he’s about to inspect a corpse.
“What are we looking at Emma?” He gives a pleasant smile. His hair has almost completely gone to grey these last few months, no thanks to the financial troubles down at the morgue. Refinancing the house to keep the business afloat is never a good sign.
“Look at him. He’s all dolled up for a party.” Mom’s voice rises like we’re trapped in a fire.
“I’m not ‘dolled up.’” I refuse to entertain my mother’s effeminate descriptive.
Logan breezes into the room.
“Looks like Gage is aiming for the girls tonight.” He winks as he plucks the soda from my hand.
“Oh?” Dad raises his brows as if it were the last thing he expected. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem securing any number of ladies.” He gives a secret nod of approval. “Don’t stay out too late,” he adds, heading back to the family room before Mom can refute his comment on “securing the ladies.”
Mom twists her lips. Her mouth opens, and nothing but a series of choking sounds emit before she takes off. I guess she’s not as quick to encourage me with the “ladies,” but that’s to be expected. Mom has sweetly convinced herself she’s all the lady I need.
“You talk to Bree?” I snatch my drink back from Logan, who looks overly groomed himself.
“She’s bringing her.” He nods, examining me with a serious demeanor. “You know, there are plenty of other girls out there that would die if you gave them a chance. I hear there’s some chick from East who can’t stop talking about you.”
“I’ll pass.” We stare one another down, locked in a dead heat over where this conversation might lead. I’m sure as hell positive it’s not leading to some girl from East, unless of course, that’s where Skyla is going.
“Look”—he swallows hard—“I’ll land you Miller with a bow on top. You want Lexy? She’s been calling me all day—says she’s all hot and bothered with nowhere to blow. It’s a slam dunk. You’ll have your wick wet by midnight.”
“No, thanks.” I’m quick to shut down his indecent proposal. “I’m not interested in Michelle or Lexy. I’ve already turned them both down myself, so you can peel your ego off the ceiling.” I catch my reflection in the glass of the oven and run my fingers through my hair. “We’d better get going before Ellis tries to liquor her up.”
Logan folds his arms across his chest and gives a dissatisfied look at my inability to latch onto his “wick wetting” offer.
“I don’t want to see you hurt, man.” He whispers it low, with a look of sincerity. “Look, I gotta talk to your dad for a second. I’ll meet you over there.” He pats my back and heads out of the room.
As much as Logan likes to put on the tough guy act, he’s nothing but a marshmallow on the inside. He’s more like my brother than my uncle or cousin as the world likes to think. I’d do anything for him and vice versa, although I’m pretty sure he’s not gifting Skyla to me “with a bow” anytime soon.
I snatch my jacket from the entry and slip it on before heading outside.
Wet my wick by midnight.
I hold back a laugh.
Maybe it’s time I made some strides in that direction.
***
The driveway just across the street is choking with cars, not to mention a mile-long backlog up and down the road. The neighbors don’t really complain, so Ellis keeps the kegs flowing like some alcohol-laden fiduciary duty to both East and West High alike.
My hands sweat as I hop up the porch and head inside where the walls are throbbing to the rhythm of some metal song. The decibel level is so loud my ears threaten to bleed. I make my way over to the great room, where the speakers aren’t parked directly overhead, and take in the scene as wall-to-wall bodies filter through the dimly lit room.
There she is. Skyla lights up the darkness like a flare.
The room sways. My heart skips about ten solid beats as our eyes lock for a brief second.
She offers a shy smile before Brielle steps into our line of vision.
Not that I mind. It’s not exactly like I wanted Skyla to see me staring at her from across the room, smiling like some hatchet murderer. Nothing like letting off some stalker vibes to get the night headed in the right direction. Everything in me knows I should go over and say something, but my heart is too busy trying to evict itself from my chest and my body refuses to move. I feel lightheaded just occupying the same air space as her—passing out seems pretty high on my body’s to-do list at the moment.
Brielle sways her hips and gyrates to the right, exposing the L.A. princess once again. Her long, golden hair catches what little light the room can afford, showing off a thousand soft spirals that crown her with glory. She’s wearing a skin-tight sweater and cutoff shorts that make her legs glow like burnished bronze. My mind drifts for a moment as I imagine those long, svelte limbs wrapped around my back like a vine, her body pressed against mine—nothing but skin on skin.
Some dude with a hairline that dips into a V stands next to her. He glares in this direction before reverting his attention back to Skyla.
Does she have a boyfriend? Judging by the way she was inspecting Logan at the bowling alley, I’d gather not—probably just some dude from East trying to get lucky.
Harrison pops up next to Brielle, and I can hear her squealing out an introduction. I’d better go over before he tries to inaugurate Skyla as a part of his ever-expanding circle of concubines.
I muster the courage to walk up behind Skyla, but my feet refuse to move another inch, so Brielle scoots into me.
I smile at Skyla like the idiot I am. “Look who decided to join the party?”
Really? That’s what flies out of my mouth? Just fuck.
She looks right at me, and my cheeks burn with heat. I high-five the guy next to her for no good reason other than to avoid spontaneously combusting under her supervision. Skyla gives a sweet smile and bites her lip as if she were unsure what to make of me. I’m about to open my mouth in hopes of something intelligible spouting out just as Logan walks up behind her, and I seize up like a broken engine.
Perfect. With my luck, I’ll say something and she’ll ignore me once he flashes those pearly whites. It’s one thing to have Logan razz me about not having her, but another to watch her outright reject me in his presence, so I hold back on the conversation for now.
“Hey.” Logan steps up into our circle, and Skyla lights up like a Christmas tree.
“Everyone”—Brielle clears her throat while cozying up to the guy next to her—“this gorgeous boy is Skyla’s stepbrother, Drake.”
We exchange hellos.
Skyla averts her gaze. Her cheeks flush as if she weren’t too enthused to be introducing her stepbrother to anyone, tonight or ever.
Logan hones all his energy in on her. “You shoot pool?” He wastes no time trying to get her alone.
Logan is famous, or rather infamous, regarding the flesh exchanges he likes to conduct after dark. The only thing Logan likes about
pool
is the fact Ellis Harrison’s pool house has been known to double as a fantasy suite. Although, I’m not sure if he’s ever ventured into the pool house before. I guess this means he’s ready to kick things into high gear with Skyla.
Ellis steps into them with a flicker of hope. “I’ll break some balls with you guys.”