Ethereal Knights (5 page)

“I could do this with my dad.” She shudders at the thought of doing it at all. “My mom, my sister—they can’t.”

“Gage can’t.” A surge of guilt pulses through me. I don’t know why I’m so quick shoot him down. He’s amazing on his own without the ability to read anybody’s mind.  “Look—I just want you to know I don’t make a habit of touching people and reading their thoughts.”

“I’m impressed.” She twists her lips as if she’s not.

“Are you?” I pull her hand to my mouth and touch each of her fingers to my lips. “But you don’t really know why you can do this, do you?”

“No.” Her eyes widen like softballs. “Will you tell me?”

I lean in and collapse my arms around her like I’ve been dying to do all night. Skyla holds the scent of the air in springtime, like fresh cut flowers releasing their sweet perfume, and I inhale until my lungs are ready to burst from the effort.

“Yes, I’ll tell you.” I dust my cheek over her face until my mouth brushes gently against hers. “But not tonight.” I land my lips exactly where they want to be—diving over hers for an erotic eternity. Skyla and I make the stars wish they could burn through the atmosphere with such heated precision.

There’s not a cold shower in the world that could douse the fire brewing between us.

Gage

In the morning, I hear the faint sound of whistling outside my bedroom.

Crap.

I pull the pillow over my head, trying to drown him out. I know damn well it’s Logan, and his whistling means he’s in an all too chipper mood from God knows what. I roll over trying to ignore the fact my bladder demands to burst.

I dreamed of her again. It was
her
this time without a doubt. Skyla and I walking hand in hand along a black sandy beach. Her hair flowing in the wind, a smile locked and loaded on her lips all for me.

A hard series of knocks explode over my door. “Rise and shine, princess.” Logan’s voice booms inside my head like the crash of an annoying cymbal. “Your mom wants you downstairs for breakfast.” His footsteps dissipate, and the tension in me reduces as he stomps away.

I clean up and head downstairs. My senses light up with the scent of sugar and spice and all things delicious as only my mother can make.

“Cinnamon rolls.” My favorite.

“How was last night? Did the clothes afford you any luck with the ladies?” Dad glances up from his medical journal, the glasses ready to slide off his nose.

Mom stops washing dishes to inspect me as they both await my answer. You’d think it was a miracle around here if I even mentioned a girl, let alone went out with one. 

“Last night was great.” I plop down next to Logan as Mom charges at me with a glazed bun the size of my fist and a tall glass of milk. I’m pretty sure I’m not addressing my “luck with the ladies.” I only want one, and my horseshoe seems to be misfiring at the moment because she’s hung up on the wrong person.

Logan offers a shit-eating grin that suggests way more about his night than I ever wanted to know. 

“And how was your night?” Dad gives a placid smile to Logan as if he expects the truth.

I know the truth. He and Skyla pulled a disappearing act at the very same time. His truck was out of the driveway by ten, and wasn’t back until well after one.

“Excellent.” He bites down on his fork and shoots me a look.

Dad chuckles, readjusting his glasses. “I see we’ve gone from an unenthusiastic ‘great,’ to an exuberant ‘excellent.’ Sounds like the two of you experienced the evening on the opposite ends of the spectrum.”

“Well…” Mom smooths her hand over her napkin. “I’m just glad you’re both sitting here. I’m always thrilled to see your smiling faces in the morning. So much can go wrong these days, I just—”

“Emma.” Dad lowers his chin in an effort to pluck her off the inbound train of torment and worry.

Logan slides into a lazy half-smile. He’s got that same stupid look on his face he gets before inflicting a little good-natured teasing. Although, by the way my gut is clenching, I can tell it’s not going to feel so “good-natured” after all. 

“You don’t look too happy, Gage.” Logan gives a light kick to my shin from underneath the table. “Dare I say, only one of us here is smiling?” He pumps out a giant grin.

“Is something wrong?” Mom is quick to assess the damage by touching her hand to my forehead. “You’re a little warm.”

“Yeah.” I glare over at Logan. “I’m getting a little hot under the collar.”

“Step outside, sweetheart,” she suggests. “It’ll do you some good.”

“I hear letting out some aggression works wonders, too.” Logan’s chest heaves as he swallows down a laugh. “One quick, passionate burst of energy detonating from you should do it.” He holds my stare as his lips curve into a devilish grin. “Sometimes, all you need is a quick release and all seems right with the world.”

Release?

Figures. Logan can’t get his mind out of the gutter for one fucking minute.

Dad rolls his eyes before excusing himself, and Mom follows him into the entry, saying something about a meeting later this week.

“You release some tension last night?” I shoot the words out like a dart. “Is that what you want me to believe? Because I don’t for a second think she’s the kind of girl who would lie down for you.” Not on the first night, anyway.

I swallow hard at whatever the hell is about to pop out of his mouth. Here it is, the moment of truth.

“No, she’s not.”

Everything in me exhales with relief.

He pulls his lips in a line. “Heard Michelle was asking about you last night.”

“Really?” Not buying it.

“No, not really.” He rumples his napkin before tossing it at me. “But maybe she did. You never know, right? Rumor has it she’s passing out blowjobs like Halloween candy. She’ll dethrone Bree by homecoming. Why don’t you call her?”

I shake my head as that dream comes back to me—Skyla holding my hand, happy to be with me on a moonlit beach.

“Gage.” He lowers his head, still looking at me with that I’m-sorry-for-you expression plastered to his face. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” It comes out bored, as if I didn’t really care what he had to say next.

“Don’t get hung up on someone who’s not into you.” He says it sincerely, as if he’s trying to dispense some fatherly advice. “What about that girl you’re always harping about?” He presses his lips together and nods as if I should consider this. “How would she feel if you went after some other chick while she was trying to make her way to you?”

He’s bringing up the visions I’ve shared with him, and oddly enough, it doesn’t feel like he’s mocking me—more like trying to get me to go along with it in a desperate attempt to keep my mind off Skyla. 

“You’ve got some balls.” I raise my milk and offer an impromptu toast in his direction.

He gets up and pats me on the shoulder. “Keep admiring them, my friend.” He takes off for the stairs. “My cojones are a sight to behold.”

A dry laugh rattles out of me.

Little does he know, the girl from my dreams and Skyla Messenger are one in the same.

4

Logan

Secrets and Soulmates

I’m pulling an eternal shift at the bowling alley today. Swear to God I should set up a cot in the back. I don’t know why I bother going home, especially in the summer when I’ve got this place strapped to my back like a bomb.

All morning and into the listless afternoon, I think about that conversation with Gage—the fact he’s clearly not backing down from pursuing Skyla when he knows I’ve already taken a step in the right direction with her. It’s not like him. It spooks me, and I don’t like to be spooked. Not like this, and not with Gage on the other side of the relational equation.

Brielle darts in, holding someone up beside her.

Gage swoops in on the two of them so quick it’s hard to make out the injured party. Probably Michelle, still hungover from last night. I head over to find Skyla with her face swollen and bruised, her lip split and bleeding on the side.

“Shit.” I help her into a chair and bolt to the kitchen for a bag of ice. 

I rush back to her side and evict Gage so I can sit next to her, blotting her lip with the ice pack when all I want to do is hold her, and tell her everything will be okay. Brielle relays the story about how the “bitch squad” appointed themselves as the welcoming committee by way of flying fists.

Skyla lands her fingers over my arm before giving a gentle squeeze. I glance over at Gage and catch him eyeing her hand as she traces out my forearm. The hurt on his face is obvious for everyone to see, and it kills me.

A sad smile hedges on my lips as I look back down at Skyla.
You’ll
live
.
Stay away from those girls. They’re mostly trouble.

She blinks up at me with those innocent doe eyes.
They
said
I stole Chloe’s boyfriend. Did I?
Her face lights up like a furnace at the idea.

“What’s up with all the stargazing and silence?” Brielle doesn’t bother to hide the fact she’s pissed. “If you die in your sleep because you have a concussion, it’s literally on your head, missy.”

“Points to you for sounding like my mother,” Skyla says, taking up my hand in the process. 

Brielle drills a hole through Skyla with her bourgeoning anger. There’s an entire stream of words trying to choke their way out of Bree’s throat, instead, she bolts over to the bathroom like her hair is on fire.

Was it something I said?
Her eyes widen at Brielle’s abrupt departure.

Gage stirs in his seat. His body language alone clues me in on the fact he too is about to erupt like a three-year-old, although for other reasons entirely.

“Look—” Gage growls. And here we go. “If you guys are going to do this, find a booth in the back where people can’t see you.”

He stomps off toward the kitchen, and I fight the urge to go over and tell him to chill the hell out because he’s starting to get under my skin. Why can’t he let this go? He’s got his dream girl, and I’ve got mine. 

Are you sure Gage can’t do this?
I mean, you are related.
She drags her eyes off of him, and a part of me is worried she’s starting to soften to his dark, enchanting ways.

I let down my walls so she can hear me, loud and clear.
No,
I assure.
He knows about it. Wouldn’t take my hand if it meant getting out of a burning building. He’s mastered other tricks, though—far more useless, I assure you.

What do you mean, other tricks?
she asks.
Logan, tell me what this is. Is it some sort of genetic defect? Why can I do this? Why do we have this ability?

I glance over to the kitchen where Gage pretends like he’s not trying to watch our every move. I pull my hand away from hers and drop it under the table. The last thing I want to do is stick a knife through my nephew’s heart today or any other day.

“I want to,” I whisper. “Not here, though.”

“Why not? Nobody will know. We can do it in secret.”

“Really?” Brielle lands back at the table, looking good and pissed. “Why not right here on the table? I don’t think anyone will notice at all.”

“Not that.” Skyla closes her eyes for a moment and tips her head back seductively without trying. Her neck looks prime for a bite, and I’m more than willing to sink my teeth into her. “Are you okay?” She reaches over to Brielle.

“It’s just hard sometimes.” Bree shoots me a look, and I know where this is going. “Chloe’s been on my mind, and it’s gone from bad to worse.” And there it is.

“Chloe was your friend,” I whisper over to her. I’m a little apprehensive to say Chloe’s name out loud—as if that alone has the power to reanimate her from the grave. “It’s okay to miss her.”

Skyla drops her gaze. This can’t be easy for her either since she sleeps in Chloe’s old bedroom. That’s one mindfuck I wouldn’t wish on anyone. 

“I know.” Brielle dabs a wad of tissues into her face. “She did have the bad habit of hanging out with Em, Michelle, and Lexy. They weren’t always the triune anything. She was the one who tempered them, and now, without her, they’ve gone feral. It’s like their wickedness unleashed the second Chloe disappeared.”

Not sure I would agree, but I’ll go with it for now.

Skyla sits up at attention. “Disappeared?”

“She went missing for two weeks.” Brielle leans in and whispers it like a dirty little secret. “Nobody knows what happened. Coroner says her body was thrashed when they found her”—she lowers her lashes—“she had these strange cuts all over.” Brielle stares out at the lane straight ahead with a catatonic gaze.

“Cuts?” Skyla asks, trying to wrap her head around the idea. Her eyes magnify with fear, and I suddenly have the urge to duct tape Brielle’s mouth shut. “Maybe they were scrapes from branches?” Skyla seems desperate for a plausible solution. “Like she was trying to escape.”

Shit. Brielle has her all worked up. I’m sure she won’t sleep for a year. Brielle is inadvertently brewing a disaster that only a psychiatrist and a real estate agent will be able to cure.

“Deep incisions.” Brielle croaks. “Her mom said it looked barbaric, like she was used as some kind of science experiment. They think maybe somebody tortured her.”

Nice work, Bree. I shoot her a look. 

“Dear God.” Skyla nearly falls out of her chair from shock.

I feel horrible about what happened to Chloe, but I don’t think spooking Paragon’s newest resident, who happens to live at the old Bishop house, is going to make things better.

I pull the ice from Skyla’s lip and break up the bag, trying to derail her thoughts from the trajectory of terror Brielle launched her down. Skyla looks horrified, like some deranged lunatic is about to rush her with a shiny new ax. Not that I can guarantee it won’t happen, but I’ll make damn sure she’s safe. Gage isn’t the only one with a trick up his sleeve. A freaking bird. I shake my head.