The Dragon and the Rose, Page 2

  Knowing what I do about what went down tonight should make this feel like an abomination—and yet it doesn’t. Instead it feels remarkably normal, beautifully sacred as if nothing has changed between us, as if last night were simply a nightmare. Maybe Logan’s nighttime romp led to all the wrong places. Perhaps it was all a misplaced vision? A nightmare of our own making—but that’s just wishful thinking. It happened, and, now, Gage and I will both have to face the consequences of what he’s done. In a single bound he’s become the enemy whether he intended to or not.

  Gage drifts down, burying a wet kiss in my belly, and I catch my breath.

  “Does that feel good?” His eyes shine like the sun piercing through crystal as that devilish grin I love so much blooms on his lips.

  “It feels like someone knows what he’s doing.” I sink his head down over my belly again and groan into the warm pool of his mouth. Gage rumbles a dull laugh over my stomach, rattling his elation straight to my bones as his heated kisses track to my hip then steadily lower. I could try to resolve to the fact I have noble intentions of making love to Gage in the name of Celestra—infiltrating the enemy and all that bullshit, but the truth is he’s my husband, and I like being with him. Brielle would say I like fucking him, and Brielle in her infinite although slightly skewed wisdom would be right. It just sounds a little too crude for the explosive beauty that takes place when our very naked bodies collide.

  Gage hoists my legs over his shoulders and bows his head to that delicate part of me.

  A hard breath growls from my throat. His heated mouth writhes over me, and I’m gasping, fisting the sheets. The room spins. The walls quake as his name reverberates through the tiny apartment—only, it’s not coming from me. I glance down and watch as his dark head burrows between my thighs.

  “Gage?” A familiar female voice calls out, and my palms flatten over his shoulders in horror. My eyes spring wide. Gage looks up, and I can see the whites of his eyes from the horizon of my belly.

  “Honey?” A brisk knock erupts over the door sending both Gage and me rolling off the tiny bed.

  Gage throws me the sheet before covering his obtrusive hard-on with a pillow.

  “Knock, knock!” Another female voice climbs higher than the last as the door cracks open, and both our mother’s faces stack over one another.

  God. If last night felt like a nightmare, this morning feels like a horror story.

  “What the hell?” I say it so low it sounds more like a gasp.

  They start speaking at once.

  “The door was open.” Mom covers her mouth in that sorry not sorry way. She’s unnaturally giddy, and I’m guessing it’s because she’s caught me doing the wild thing with her favorite Oliver. Little does she know he’s also her favorite Fem’s offspring.

  “We thought you’d be in class.” Emma’s face recoils once she spots her son’s bare leg draped over mine. “We brought supplies…” Her voice trails off. I’m guessing they’re not of the sexual variety—a box full of condoms, a can of whipped cream.

  “We’ll get dressed and be right out.” Gage nods as they close the door.

  “Kill me.” I crawl into his lap. Leave it to Emma to rob me of an orgasm.

  “Their hearts are in the right place.” He sinks a kiss over my lips. “How about an I-owe-you?” He gives my bare bottom a gentle tap.

  “ASAP.” I graze my teeth over his cheek. “And, you nailed it, their hearts are in the right place. I guess that counts for something.” It takes everything in me not to sob. I offer a circular nod instead that says I get it, Gage. You would do anything to protect me. Please tell me you just went too far.

  But he doesn’t say a word. We simply get dressed and go out to face our mothers.

  We throw on the first things we find and stumble into the living room where both Emma and Mom stand frozen with their hands clapped over their mouths. Their eyes expand like platters while inspecting every last inch of this hovel. They look equally sickened as if we were incubating the next plague ready to take down mankind, and knowing the nature of Morley Harrison’s slum, we just might be.

  “We come bearing gifts!” Mom holds out a loaf of bread and glass bottle filled to the brim with an opaque liquid I can only pray is milk from any species other than a human. My mother has been known to perseverate on the goodness that flows from her bosom. She glances around in staccato jags as if the layout of the tiny apartment were much too complicated to comprehend. “This is…lovely.” Mom stutters the words out with lackluster confidence. “It has…” She twirls an auburn lock through her fingers, the way she does when she’s at a loss for words. She fans the air a moment. “God, I’m just glad I left the baby at home.”

  “Tell us how you really feel.” I pull Gage in by the waist as we wait for Emma’s analysis of our flea-infested love shack. I’m sure the OCD in her is ready to crawl up the fire escape and swan dive off the rooftop.

  “It’s a start.” Emma pulls her shoulders back resolved to say something positive. Her hair is slicked in a severe bun that lets us know she means business. “I’ve brought a coffee maker, a few sundries—several cans of disinfectant and bug spray. I knew Morley was a slumlord but this? I should have the city condemn this place as a health hazard. You can’t be serious staying here.”

  I glance to Gage. Is she serious? It’s our home. Well, at least for the next couple weeks until the actual rent kicks in. I would live under a bridge with Gage if I had to, at least the old Gage. This new version might be more comfortable in the Tenebrous woods, or God forbid the Transfer snuggling up with his brother and Chloe, the cretin from the great beyond. I try to swat Chloe out of my brain. Sometimes there isn’t enough bug spray in the universe, Emma.

  “Emma?” Mom looks aghast at her redecorating partner in crime. “Really—it’s their first place. It could always be worse.”

  Not in this case, but forget this fleabag, when did Mom grow a pair? I shoot her a victorious smile because, for once, I feel as if she has my back.

  “I mean”—she waves her hand around as she walks in a small circle—“sure it screams home to a future homicide, but it’s their little love nest.” She gives Gage a wrinkled-nose smile that makes me want to push her out the window. Just the thought of how much she adores him sets my teeth on edge. It’s as if deep down she’s always known he’s been a card carrying member of the ultra-exclusive Fem club, and God knows my mother has an affinity toward Fems. “Of course, once they start having children, they’ll want something bigger—and perhaps a little more hygienically sound.”

  A gagging noise emits from my new mother-in-law. It’s nice to know the thought of Gage and I procreating makes Emma want to vomit.

  She squeezes out a quick smile. “Gage has years of schooling to complete if he wants to take over the morgue one day.” The Olivers own the Paragon cemetery and morgue. Emma also owns the largest daycare on the island.

  “If I decide to go in that direction.” Gage cuts her off and sends her into a silent tirade.

  Ha! All it takes to shut Emma up is a little defiance by way of her son. I should pay Gage in sexual favors to openly defy his mother. I give a little twisted grin at the thought.

  “That direction is a perfectly sound one. Your father does quite nicely for himself, and look where he lives?” She holds a finger in the air, inadvertently pointing at a fresh leak in the ceiling. She’s got us there. The Paragon Estates are a far cry from the Harrison ghetto. Why couldn’t Ellis’s father care more about his tenants? It’s his greed and overall lack of desire to tend to this place that’s going to make these next few weeks feel like we’re mole people living in a sewer. It could be worse. We could be living with Emma.

  As if on cue, the sound of deep rumbling bass trembles from the apartment next door. A couple begins to shout from the street. They may as well be shouting welcome to the hood! Although they sound far more hostile than they ever do welcoming. Why do I suddenly feel the need for a bulletproof vest? Gage and I can get the
his hers edition.

  Mom opens the refrigerator and groans before entombing the smell of death back inside.

  “We still haven’t turned on the lights,” I offer. Or sanitized the place with a blowtorch.

  “Well, you’ll need electricity to keep warm.” Emma balls her demanding little fists into her hips. Not when I have her son wrapped around me like a vine, but I don’t offer that little tidbit. I’m sure after the scene she just witnessed she can surmise. “Gage, you can’t afford to get sick after what you’ve been through with your health. And you need to mind your grades if you plan to keep on track for graduation.”

  “Skyla can’t afford to get sick either.” Mom folds her arms as if she’s about to have a standoff with Emma. I give her an appreciative nod. Emma couldn’t care less if I had double pneumonia. “And she too needs to stay on track to graduate. I’m not sure what you’re implying, but I’m sure the kids have no intention of endangering their health or their educations.” She turns to us, and her features soften. “Just look at them.” Her hands bounce with joy. “They’re in love. I’m sure they keep quite warm in one another’s arms at night.”

  “That’s right.” Gage pulls me in even tighter as Emma’s lips part with disgust. “In fact, I’m headed downtown to pay a few utilities this afternoon, so no worries there.” His phone goes off. “It’s Logan.” He puts it on speaker, and I cringe. God—what if Logan tears into him for crossing enemy lines right here in front of both our mothers? As much as I’d love for Gage to be exposed, I hardly think this is the time or place, with his mother armed with defiance and mine cradling bread in one hand and potential breast milk in the other.

  “Good morning!” I sing in an effort to let him know this conversation is being vetted. “Our mothers were just checking out the apartment.”

  “Ah, good times.” His deep voice floats into the room like a strong, warm hug. “I won’t keep you. I just wanted to run something past the two of you. I’m thinking of taking the arcade out at the bowling alley and putting in a tea room. I thought maybe I could get some thoughts on designs. Emma suggested chevron prints and polka dots this morning at breakfast.”

  My mouth falls open as I look to Emma who gives a guilty shrug.

  “A tea room?” Either this is Logan’s idea of seeing if both Gage and I survived the night, or the universe is entirely off balance. “Look, don’t hire the wrecking ball just yet,” I say, snatching up my jacket and purse off the couch. “I’ve got a few errands I need to run in that direction. I’ll be there in an hour or so.” I give a private smile. Logan is a genius to have called Gage instead of me. I know he’s just as anxious to verbally process what the hell happened last night, and, this way, Gage won’t suspect a thing.

  “Sounds great.” Logan hangs up, and Gage shakes his head at the absurdity of the call.

  “Sounds like someone just sailed off the deep end.” His dimples dig in as he tweaks his brows.

  I want to say that someone is you but instead I jump on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear, “I’m going home to take a long, hot shower. I fully expect us to pick up where we left off. Sorry to leave you with the mommy circus, but there’s only so much I can take.” I steal a quick kiss off his lips.

  “Hey.” He steadies me on my feet before I can make a proper getaway—“I love you.”

  “Aww!” Mom’s audible howl echoes throughout the room. “Aren’t they adorable? Young love. It’s so nice that things are off to such a great start for the two of you.”

  I glance over in time to see Emma’s face pucker as if she were sucking on a lemon.

  “We are adorable.” I lean up and press my lips hard to my husband’s once again. And, up until last night, we were off to a spectacular start.

  I pull back and give a bleak smile. Now I just wonder if I’m sleeping with the enemy.

  “This isn’t over.” I wink at him.

  His eyes bear into mine like two cobalt flames, melting my devices, until I’m reduced to a puddle of yearning.

  “We will never be over, Skyla. We’re forever.” There’s a sadness in his eyes that says we’re not.

  On my way out, I overhear Mom welcoming Gage into the family. It’ll be a cold day in hell if Emma ever does the same for me. Not that I’m expecting a warm, fuzzy hug and access to her great grandmother’s coveted recipe book. Sadly, I’ve grown accustomed to the barbed looks and annoying quips she likes to dart my way. Emma and I once got along but now that Gage and his penis are in the way, she’d rather slit her own throat than accept me as his permanent plus one.

  I take a shortcut through the woods on my way to the harbor. I don’t have classes today, but there are a million essays and quizzes to study for, so I can’t hang out on Paragon for too long. Hey, maybe I can get together with Laken later, and we can study for that history exam Marshall keeps threatening? Who am I kidding, the conversation would quickly veer to last night’s wicked antics, and I’m not really looking forward to verbalizing that to anyone just yet.

  The rain has ceased, and the fresh scent of earth mingles with the spice from the evergreens. The faint sound of an echoing voice stills me as it increases in volume.

  “Bullet!” The cry becomes louder, far more passionate than before. I continue my trek through the thicket until I spot Rev in the distance, the fog curling around his legs like surly white snakes. He’s all leather and studs, wearing tall, worn out boots. He has a black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. “Bullet!” He screams from the top of his lungs.

  “What is this? Performance art? Instead of hunting the traditional way you just shout in the wind until the birds fall from the sky?” I’m only half teasing. Rev is the big, scary dude that lives somewhere in the same brick shit house as Gage and me.

  “It’s my dog.” He starts in on a groan and ends with a roar. “I have to find him. He’s like a brother to me.” He takes off jogging into the fog. How very sad and lonely. I bet that dog is the only family he has. Maybe later I can help put together some flyers for him. But for now I try to put Rev out of my mind as I hit the waterline.

  The ferry is ready to load, so I hop on and take a seat on the upper deck. I pull my coat tight over me as the boat begins to slog through the soupy fog.

  Emma’s sour face blinks through my mind. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that she hates that I’m with Gage—married to Gage no less. I can practically hear her declaring me a stone in his path. As if my very presence is nothing but a distraction to him becoming the greatest mortician the world over. I huff a quiet laugh as I watch the waves silently bleed back from the side of the boat. If she thinks Gage is interested in running the death-depot, both she and Barron have another thing coming. Barron. My heart sags at how he must have taken the news that Gage isn’t his biological child after all. I know he raised Gage, and that’s all that matters—at the end of the day that’s what makes him Gage’s father, but still. Just the idea of Emma hooking up with Demetri for a fling sends my body convulsing into a mean shiver. Better his mother than mine. Speaking of my mother, she’s going to die at the thought of Demetri putting his mattress moves on anyone other than her. But, God, if she loves Gage now, she’s going to take it to a whole new level when she finds out whose son he really is. I can just feel my mother’s blooming elation. She’s going to be nonstop, Well, Demetri we’re practically family! You’ll have to stop over more often. You’ll have to spend the holidays with us! I openly groan at the thought.

  A black bruise glides through the sky and lands just shy of the railing beside me. It’s Nevermore, or at least it used to be. Now it’s just useless Holden Kragger taking the form of my favorite raven. I pet Nev for old times sake. He’s my Chloe repellant—him and the Eye of Refuge that I wear on a chain around my neck along with the mirrored heart Logan gifted me for my birthday last year. It was right before we married—three beautiful days and nights I spent in the arms of that gorgeous man. My heart weeps at the memory, and my mood plummets.

  The raven let
s out a heart-stopping caw.

  “Go away, Holden.”

  The ferry stops, and I’m the first to zip off. Despite my best efforts I can’t seem to shoo the feathered Kragger away. Instead, I struggle my way through a smattering of human traffic at the base of the pier. A blonde with a baby stroller nearly runs me off the edge and straight into the water by way of her canopied buggy. The tiny moppet nestled in the stroller is dressed like a princess. She tosses her miniature fist at me before contorting her fingers and laughing. I bet she just told me off in sign language. Mom swears that signing babies are all the rage.

  “Very funny,” I mumble as I make my way to the intersection. An entire flurry of insane thoughts sail through my mind. There’s something about Paragon I find strangely intoxicating. Just setting my feet on this overgrown rock fills me with an inexplicable enthusiasm.

  Back at Host, Gage and I are still trying to figure out what to major in. Of course, he wants to write, so he’s leaning toward English. But what I haven’t shared with him is that I sort of want to write, too. I miss the days, back in junior high, where I would snuggle up with a good book and let the hours pass as I lost myself in another world. There’s something about the junior high era of my life that feels golden, most likely because my father was still alive. I think I’d love to write middle grade fiction. Maybe even something set right here on Paragon?

  The wind picks up and slices through my flimsy jacket. I’ll freeze if I have to walk home. I fumble for my phone to call Logan. I should have texted from the ferry, but I was still too caught up in all that Emma drama.

  The wind picks up again, wild and alive, grazing my cheeks, picking my chin up with its icy fingers until I glance at the forest as if that were its intention all along. The evergreens warble in and out of focus as if someone smeared petroleum jelly over the landscape, blurring the scene.

  “Strange.” I hurry to make my way across the street to the coffee shop just as the crosswalk blinks red. I pick up my pace and make it halfway before noting the door to the shop slamming open and shut with a demonic vigor. The windows to the establishment vibrate so intensely the sign is no longer legible. Are we having an earthquake? I pause a moment as the pregnant clouds pulsate unnaturally in the sky. “Funny.” Usually when things are askew on Paragon I can attribute them right back to that bitch I sent to the Transfer.