Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 7.5) (35 page)

I groan from the visual. This goes on for what feels like hours—for far longer than I have blood to give, that’s for damn sure. I’ve never seen anything so disgusting, so perverse. It stretches out to include such insanely vile behavior that I no longer want a bird’s-eye view of. In fact, I want off the pleasure-Ellis-merry-go-round immediately.

Gah! The bodies gyrate in rhythm and Ellis starts in on a move that horrifies me into paralysis. Ellis zooms in on a tight shot of the female anatomy I never knew existed. He pans out and to a mass of moving flesh—pale limbs intertwined with tawny limbs and Ellis’s hairy self, entangled in the middle. Little did I know he was capable of ratcheting up the heat in such a disturbing manner.

“No, not that,” I hiss quietly, lest the tyrant of the tunnels hears and has my mouth sewn shut with the flesh of a dead Celestra.
No, no, no!
Oh crap. There we are in one mass tangle of flesh, Chloe clawing over me like a lioness, ravaging me while Ellis sodomizes Brielle. Ellis quickly abandons his post at Brielle’s hindquarter and yanks me into him, and it’s a replay of those bunnies from Marshall’s backyard.

The ground shakes in rhythm to Ellis’s fantasy.

Every hint of sound, of color, of light, gets vacuumed out of existence—everything goes silent, then the world morphs to a still, beautiful, black. 

Chapter 100

Love the Hard Way

A seizure of light explodes from up above.

“Move her.” Marshall’s soothing tone washes over me like the strum of a harp.

“Touch me,” I want to say, but my lips are numb, too weak to move.

“I don’t care about protocol, damn it!” My father shouts with a ferocity I’m not accustomed to. “She’s in pain, Candace. Have a heart for once, will you?” He booms.

I fade in and out, struggling to rouse from this coma-like slumber as the world bustles to life around me.

Marshall’s living room takes shape; the sofa, the coffee table, the piano in the distance—it comforts me on some intrinsic level as I relax into the loving arms that hold me.

“I’ve another vial in the humidifier,” Marshall instructs. “Last drawer in the fridge.”

A sharp jab explodes over my bottom as he pushes in the venom with very little mercy. An icy chill penetrates deep within my tissue. Another jab hits just above that, forcing my eyes to spring wide as I suck in a breath at the pain. A choking sound emits from my throat as I try to initiate a scream.

So help me God, I will asphyxiate Ellis in his sleep—first, for landing me in some depraved group fantasy, and second, for causing so much pain and suffering in the aftermath of his rather heated blood withdrawal.

“And, one last time.” Marshall sings while injecting me with another sharp bite of venom.

“Don’t focus on the pain.” My father hums from above. “Think of how fortunate you are to be out of the tunnels.” A hot teardrop rains from above and filters into my lip line, forcing me to taste the salt from my father’s sorrow. “You’re pure as gold, Skyla. You must never forget that.”

My body contracts. Large, clapping seizures slam and retract my torso like an accordion.

White, blinding, pain—a nuclear detonation of a million tiny pain receptacles ignite throughout my body at once.

This is the end of my existence—this is how I die—raging in agony in my father’s lap. My torso bucks in rhythm. I gallop like a horse trying to hitch a ride with the Grim Reaper, but he won’t stop for me—death never comes.

A vision pulls me out of my semi-conscious state—the pain fading to the background in a fit of supernatural respite.

A dark bedroom appears. This time I recognize the bed and the man with his naked limbs. Gage bears down on me with heated passion and I push him away.

Help me
, I plead.

What’s wrong?
He pants, still worked up from his shower of affection.

We need to find Logan
. I pull back the sheets and expose my naked body, long slender legs, nothing but skin.

You’re having another nightmare
. He births the words with sweet sorrow.

I need to make sure Logan made it out of the tunnels.

Gage relaxes next to me and pulls me in lovingly.
He isn’t here anymore—he’s gone.
His voice breaks just like my father’s, as his dimples press in. Gage is bereaved, his expression heavy with concern.
Logan isn’t in the tunnels, Skyla
.
He’s dead.

I sit up, startled. Tears stream down my face as I try to evict the nightmare from my mind.

“Skyla,” my father whispers, burying me in his chest, “you’re back. How do you feel?”

I dart a glance around the room and find Marshall kneeling to my left, running his hand over my arm with his sweet, soothing vibrations.

“Where’s—” I pause when I see the most beautiful sight in the world—
Logan
. “I’m OK, Daddy.” I relax in his arms and give way to a sigh. Logan is alive and all is right with the world.

***

Logan drives me home. He sent Gage a text as we pull into the driveway to let him know I was taken, but that I’ve recovered—that I’m all right.

Gage sends a response, and Logan flashes his phone so I can see it.

And you tell me NOW?

Needless to say, Gage is genuinely pissed.

“He’s at the bowling alley.” Logan purses his lips. “I’m thinking he’ll be here in—”

Gage opens the passenger door to the truck and slides me into his arms. He offers a long embrace, his warm hands press into my ribcage so hard I think they might leave permanent imprints.

“I’m OK. I swear it. It was weird. It was Ellis.”

“What?” Gage shakes his head incredulous at the idea. “Harrison is going to die.”

Escalating voices emit from the Landon house. Sounds like Mia and Melissa are about to forgo the hair and go straight for the jugular.

“I’d better get inside,” I whisper.

We head into the Landon house. The air is thick with the heavy scent of smoke. The fire alarm is busy wailing away and so are both Mia and Melissa as they exchange expletives like seasoned sailors.

“What the hell is going on?” I yank Mia back by the arm as they get into one another’s faces.

A strangled silence fills in the void of their angry voices. Gage hits the fire alarm with a broom a few times and the damn thing shuts up but not before leaving its calling card in my ear. It’s still going off clear as a bell inside my head.

“I take it you want the stove off?” Logan extinguishes the flame without waiting for an answer.

“Mia was over doing it,” Melissa calls out, “just like she overdoes everything else. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date.” She snaps up her purse and heads down the hall. The front door slams, rattling the windows just this side of breaking them.

“What was that about?” I pull Mia in and wipe the hair from her eyes. Her skin is oven hot, she’s perspiring like crazy, and I can tell she’s about to lose it.

“You mean you didn’t hear?” She squeezes the words out while sucking back tears. “I thought she blabbed it to everyone. It’s official. She and Gabriel are together now.”

I want to say, who the hell cares? Or thank God she took that Armistead asshole off your hands because he’s got demented genes, but poor Mia looks as though she’s just been slapped and knowing Melissa, she probably has, so I opt for the demure road instead.

“As in boyfriend, girlfriend?”  

Mia nods.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I’m pretty sure Tad’s not going to let that happen.” Once he catches wind his baby is doing the couple shuffle, he’ll put the kibosh on that goodtime like he does everyone else’s. 

“She’ll deny it. She sneaks around.” Mia looks defeated and heartbroken—burnt out on life all together.

“I have a friend on the island you might want to meet,” I say. “He’s real nice and I’m pretty sure you’ll feel better after having a talk with him.” Of course, I mean Dad. Every day with Dad in our world is the best day ever.

“Is he cute?” Mia’s eyes widen at the prospect of a new juvenile suitor.

Logan gives a half-smile before heading over to the slider and opening it for ventilation.

“He’s not that kind of friend,” I lower my voice. “He’s more of a father figure.”

“It’s not that shrink you see, is it?”

“No, not Dr. Booth.”

“OK, whatever. I’ll talk to your friend. But right now, I think I’ll go take a nap or read a book. Sometimes I just want to escape from reality. You know?”

“Yeah, I know.” I wish we were in the past—still in L.A. I’d do everything different. That’s one thing I know for sure.

I walk Mia up to her room and watch as she slinks on the bed. She looks helpless, trapped in a room with a sister she can’t stand at the moment. Odd, I feel the same about Chloe, only thank God I don’t have to share a room with her, and for sure she’s no sister.

Mia will feel better once she talks to Dad. One thing my dad can do is somehow make me believe everything is going to be all right—that not even death can stand in our way.

That horrible dream I had of Logan springs to the forefront of my mind.

It couldn’t have been a vision. I refuse to believe it.

It was nothing more than a nightmare.

That’s all it’ll ever be.

***

When I arrive back downstairs, Drake, Chloe and Ethan have sprawled out over the kitchen.

Chloe whispers something to Gage while leaning against the counter, then quickly darts over to Ethan as soon as I walk in the room.

Crap.

A horrible fear spirals through me. What if it’s all true? What if Emerson is right and he’s still keeping sinister-Bishop things from me? The creepy Kragger
was
right about the condom, and Gage certainly didn’t pull a kitchen knife on Chloe when she got within striking distance, so something does appear to be up. God, I pray nothing that belongs to Gage is “up” when Chloe is around. 

I go over to the table and take a seat, inspiring Gage to sit beside me. His warm, woodsy cologne whispers my name and I glance at him with heavy eyes.

“So who you seeing now?” Drake directs the question to Logan. “Are you still with Michelle? Or did you tap that?”

“Tap that?” I squawk. The next time I vomit, I’m aiming for Drake’s shoes.

“Nope. Miller and I are done.” Logan raises a brow in my direction before knocking back his soda.

“Dude, there are so many hot chicks going to West this year.” Drake flexes his hands behind his neck and nods into Logan. “I had to go down to the attendance office to clear up some shit and like four supermodels walked in—and they were all sporting massive lady lumps.” Drake cups his hands in front of his chest like he’s already molesting them. “You could score with all of them if you wanted.”

You’d think Drake had branched off into the pimp business the way he suddenly feels the need to hook Logan up with some lumpy “supermodels.”

“Lady lumps?” Chloe scoffs at Drake’s genius.

“I don’t know.” Logan glances from me to Gage. “I think I’ll steer clear. You go ahead and hit those.” He nods into Drake. “I’ll watch from the sidelines and learn from the master.”

“I’ve already got two of their numbers.” Drake smears his words with an irresponsible swagger that makes me want to smack him.

“Drake!” I kick him from under the table.

“What? It was for Logan. He’s having a dry season. Us guys have to look out for one another.” He fiddles with his phone and Logan’s cell goes off. “There, I just forwarded you the hot brunette’s number. Give her a crotch-shot and let her know what’s up.”

“A crotch-shot?” Chloe and I ask in unison. Creepy.

Figures, the one thing that can unify the two of us is some serious asshat stupidity brought on by yet another Landon.

“Yeah.” Ethan looks right at me. “You know, like the one Gage sent to steal you away from Logan.”

“What?” Gage booms, pissed at the concept.

“Just repeating what Chloe said.” He slips her a crooked grin.

“Oh, please.” Chloe swims with glee. “That’s not what happened. I said I’ve seen his package. That’s obviously what sold Skyla. It was nothing more, nothing less.” She picks at her nail polish in an effort avoid eye contact with all parties that have a direct interest in Gage and his package.

“That’s such a lie.” I fume over at her.

Logan rasps his knuckles against the table. “And for the record, there is absolutely nothing wrong with my package.”

I promptly ignore Logan and his plea for penile equity.

My blood starts to boil at the thought of Chloe spouting off lies about Gage and his body when she knows damn well we’re trying to get back on track.

“It’s a lie, right Gage?” I look to him for support only he’s being unnaturally quiet about the whole thing. I get that he’s ticked, but this is a pretty good time to lay into her with some of that pent up rage he’s feeling. “She didn’t see your package.”

His dimples depress as he glints into Chloe with a pissed-off expression.

“Oh, you haven’t told her?” Chloe claps a hand over her mouth in an effort to demonstrate the not so seriousness of her artificial faux pas.

Shit.

“Gage?” I jump back with my chair so I can get a better look at him. His face has lit up like a Christmas tree and I’m pretty sure that’s not a very good fucking sign.

“It was an accident,” he says it low. “It’s not what you think. Chloe’s trying to do what she does best—keep us apart.”

“What kind of an accident?” I press on. “Did she walk in on you in the bathroom?” Somehow a stream of urine shooting from his penis would add some levity to the situation. Somehow our entire relationship hangs on the balance of humility and bodily fluids.

“No.” Gage gives a little laugh at the idea. “She didn’t walk in on me in the bathroom.”

I suck in a lungful of air. I’m horrified at the height from which we’ve fallen.

“Oh my God. She did see your baseball bat!” I scoot my chair the hell away from him in the event his pants decided to catch on fire because it’s become apparent he is such a fucking liar.