Ethereal Knights (6 page)

“Listen”—Skyla takes in a breath like she’s coming up for air—“if I can convince my parents to let me have a party will you come?”

A smile buds on my lips. “Of course.” Sounds like the perfect time and place to get those blood samples Barron recommended.

“I mean, just you guys and”—she glances back at Bree—“Drake will be there. Kate and Nat can come. My mom has this thing about my stepbrother meeting people. I know she’ll be okay with it.” She gives a mournful smile as if she were reliving a bad memory.

“Sounds good.” I pick up her hand, low by her thigh so Gage won’t see.
But I can’t tell you in a room full of people. We need to be alone—just you and me.

Tell me now. No one will know.

Alone.

Am I going to freak out when I hear it?

I erect the shroud that barricades her from my thoughts.

You don’t think I can handle it, do you?
She knits her brows together, and I want to soothe her with my lips right here in the bowling alley.

It’s not that I don’t think you can’t handle it.
I say it with as much tenderness I can afford.
Once you realize who you are, you won’t ever get a chance to go back.

Who am I?

Skyla.
The girl who launched a thousand boners in the Oliver family alone, but I don’t share that part with her.

Not funny,
she says.
I don’t scare easy.

You’re lying.
I pull my lips to the side. Chloe’s ghost can testify to that.

You’re saying it’ll frighten me?

I give a slight nod.
It will, and it should.

Gage

On the night of Skyla’s party, I wait out on the driveway for Logan so we can take off and I can get the rejection out of the way for the evening. That’s what it’s starting to feel like with Skyla and me—hopeless. 

Up above, the clouds weigh heavy and brooding as if they’re about to unleash all unholy hell. A raven spins in the sooted sky. Nevermore. He’s my residual gift from Chloe—perhaps the only good thing that came from her obsession with me. She impressed him with my blood and now we’re bonded until I croak or decide to gift him to someone else.

I toss a pebble in the air at Nev and watch as he tries to catch it in his beak. He swoops down to earth with his wings flapping in and out like a cape, landing with a thud on my shoulder. I yank the stone from his mouth.

“You did it.” I jerk my shoulder until he bounces onto the hood of Logan’s truck. The last thing I need today is Nev taking a crap on me. I pull on a grey flannel over my T-shirt. Girl’s swears this color brings out the Pacific Ocean in my eyes, and I’m trolling the bottom of the barrel for Skyla’s attention. I toss the pebble in the air again, and Nev turns his head as if he didn’t see it. Lazy bird.

“Watch over her, dude,” I whisper. “Keep an eye on her at all times. This one’s special.” I flick my finger and Nev takes off in the direction of Skyla’s house.

Skyla’s house—it’s really Chloe’s house, or at least it was. God knows I logged my fair share of hours there doing who knows what. Actually, I do know what I was doing and for whom. Maybe someday I’ll get to share that with Skyla. It’s definitely nothing I want to mention before we pass go, so I put it out of my mind and try to forget about it.

Skyla Messenger can make me forget just about anything. I really think Chloe would have liked her once she got to know her. Hell—for that matter, I’d like to get to know Skyla. I wouldn’t mind some one-on-one time with her in the butterfly room. That could be our place—just Skyla and me.

In my mind’s eye, it plays out like a movie. I envision Skyla sitting on my lap, stripping off her sweater nice and slow. I reach back and unbuckle her bra, run my tongue down her neck right between her chest until she tips her head back and groans.

Logan smacks me in the arm, yanking me from my fantasy long before I’m ready.

“Dude,” he snipes. “You got a fucking hunting knife in your jeans? Pull it together, would you?” He unlocks his truck, and a crow screams from the sound of the horn going off. “And would you stop thinking about Skyla?”

“Yes, sir.” I salute him with my middle finger as he hops in the truck. I teleport into the passenger’s seat and give a wry smile once he arrives.

“So, what’s the game plan?” I run my fingers through my hair, checking my reflection in the mirror.

“I’m going to suck her blood.” He holds up a vial before slipping it back in his jeans.

“You think she’s Celestra, huh?” Just another thing pretty boy and Skyla have in common. My stomach turns at the thought.

“I know she is. You know what the best part is?”

“She can see what a douche you are, inside and out?” I tease.

Not really. It’ll probably only magnify the fact that deep down, Logan Oliver is one of the nicest guys Skyla could ever hope to know—and that’s too fucking bad for me.

“You’re funny.” He takes the turn outside the estates a little wide, and I hold onto the grab bar. “No, I just keep thinking about how intense it’ll be with her.” He says it quiet—serious, and it sends every cell in my body on red alert. He’s going to do it. He’s going to make a move on the girl I’m supposed to be with. I don’t get it. If I’m feeling it—if the visions confirm everything I know is true—then why on earth is Skyla the last person to get with the program?

I glance over at Logan and sink in my seat as a horrible realization sets in. Maybe, just maybe, Logan has been a part of the big picture all along.

***

Logan and I picked up a pizza on the way to the party. We pull up to the Bishop’s old place and park in the driveway, both of us settling our gaze on the overgrown cabin, mesmerized to be back under such different circumstances.

“Old school, huh?” Logan slaps my shoulder, startling me out of my daze. “It’s not her house anymore. It’s Skyla’s. That’s how we have to look at it. Wipe the slate clean. There’s someone new in our lives. It’s not Skyla’s fault Chloe died.”

I nod into his line of thinking as we get out of the truck. I blip myself to the front door to buy a half-minute with her before Logan sweeps her off her feet again. But it’s not Skyla who opens the door, it’s Brielle. I give a brief hello and make my way past her. It’s refreshing seeing new furniture in the place, the dank scent of the Bishop house long forgotten, replaced with the sweet scent of Skyla. She beats cinnamon rolls any day of the week for “best olfactory experience ever.”

Skyla blooms in the family room like a fantasy come to life. Her hair falls over her shoulders in a gold waterfall as she offers a sweet smile in my direction.

Here’s my chance to say something. Tell her about the dreams—the fact I know that she and I will do amazing things on a black sandy beach one day. That I’ve thought about her—fallen in love with her—long before I ever met her. Instead, I grin like an idiot until she walks past me and greets Nat and Kate with an enthusiastic hello.

Perfect. This is a shining example of why I’ll never make it to first base with the “girl of my dreams”—I’m a tongue-tied idiot whenever I’m around her. Maybe I misinterpreted those visions, and she’s the girl I’ll forever be
fantasizing
about. That sounds about right.

I turn just in time to catch the Logan and Skyla show, his arms already locked around her waist. My stomach sinks as I glance down at the pizza—because God knows I’ve lost my appetite.

Skyla gathers everyone in the family room, and they indulge in the feast of the best artery clogging pizza on the island. Logan seems to be taking a cue from me and passes on the meal. If anyone gets sick tonight, I’m sure they’ll accuse us of lacing their dinner.

Skyla comes over and leans in. She washes over me with those haunting pale eyes and hands me a movie.

“So here’s the DVD.” Her fingers brush against mine, and my entire body tingles from her touch. “If you don’t like it, blame Drake.” She points to the console the television rests on. “There’s lots more crap where that came from.”

She glances back in Logan’s direction. I need to say something to hold her attention or she’ll never notice me. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be less visible than air by the time we leave.

“You get the comedy channel?” I blink into my own stupidity and snatch the remote from the coffee table like I actually meant it.

She opens her mouth as if she’s about to answer then turns abruptly like she’s thought of something better. “Hey”—she bites down on her lip while looking at Logan—“would you like a tour of the house?”

Perfect. My stupid inquiry about the fucking
comedy
channel inspired her to give Logan a sneak preview of her mattress. I’m sure she’s dubbed me the scary Oliver by now.

Logan glances at me for a moment with a mournful look before perking back to attention. “Why, yes. Yes, I would.”

Must be nice up on cloud nine.

“You’re going to miss the movie.” Kate snatches at Skyla as she drifts by.

“That’s the point.” Natalie hugs a pillow like it was a body. “They’re going to entertain themselves.”

Nat’s words slice through me as I shoot a look up at Skyla. She catches my eye, and I beg her with everything in me not to go anywhere with Logan, just to sit right here next to me and watch the crap movie I’m about to put on.

“We’re just going to talk.” She says it sweetly, directed to me of all people, and a part of me swims with relief. Skyla winces as she drinks me in. She’s feeling something, I can tell, and for a brief moment, I’m sure she’ll be mine one day.

“Hey, Skyla?” Her brother shouts as she and Logan head for the stairs. “There’s a stack of rubbers in my top drawer. Feel free to grab one. I hear it’s a safe way to ‘talk’ to people.”

There goes that brief moment.

She’s all Logan’s again.

5

Logan

The Bloody Party

Skyla’s bedroom is sweet in nature, not at all the vixen den that Chloe had set up for herself. A wicker-framed bed sits in the corner with a canopy floating above it like a cloud. A plain white desk with a laptop sits against the opposite wall.

Skyla’s hand warms to mine, and I can hear her worry over how well she hid her stuffed animals. I can’t help but listen in. Her inner dialog is too damn cute not to. She does a spastic inventory of the floor while her face lights up the exact same shade of pink as the quilt on her bed. A stack of boxes sit untouched in the corner, patiently waiting for someone to tend to them, and I give her hand a squeeze as if to say it’s not a big deal.

Skyla shoots a look of dismay at the walls.
One day this summer, I for sure want to paint it a really pretty green
.

“I’ll help,” I offer.

“Help?” She drops me like a bad connection and leaps over to the mattress, smoothing her hand over the spot right next to her.

“Paint your room.” I land beside her in one fell swoop, no formal invite needed.

“Are you kidding?” She lies back and turns her head into the pillow as if she’s somehow mortified by this. Her bare shoulder pops free from her sweater, and I want to press my lips against it, graze my teeth over her flesh for the hell of it. Every move she makes, feels like an invitation. 

“And, you hid things pretty well.” I reach under her bed and retrieve a scruffy blue elephant.

She lets out a bubbling laugh while trying to grab it.

“Give me that,” she cries. I let her reach it, and she smothers its face in her cleavage. Damn lucky elephant. “Don’t touch him,” she hisses. “He’s mine.”

“So…” I start. Skyla mentioned just before dinner she wanted to know why Michelle Miller harassed her at the mall today, claiming I gave her a special invite to the party. I reach over and run my fingers through her hair, soft and slippery. “You want to know why I was at Michelle’s.” I’m not looking forward to any part of this conversation. Nor do I enjoy spending any of my time with “Michelle.”

“It’s none of my business where you go.” She glances at the door.
Wonder if I locked it?

“I locked it.” I press out a quick smile. Maybe I can make her forget the entire Michelle fiasco by way of my body. But something in me already knows Miller is going to be nothing short of a guillotine to this budding relationship.

“No reason to.” She drills me with a look that could cut through diamonds.

A sigh of regret escapes me before I set out to explain myself.

“Michelle has something I want.” Shit. Could I sound anymore elusive?

“I hear most girls do.” She wrinkles her nose in a pinch of jealousy.

“Not that.” Damn, she’s cute when she’s ticked. “And no, most girls don’t. You do.” I lean back and flash a mile-wide smile. “Michelle has something else. Something nobody else could give me.” This time, I incited her a little for the hell of it.

“What?”

“I can’t say.”

“Say,” she demands. I kind of like her barking out orders, so I comply.

“It’s something of Chloe’s.” We’re traveling in the complete wrong direction—and for sure, it’s not a good omen to bring up Chloe in the room I had her in.

“Who’s going to care?”

“You’ll care—you may want it,” I say, writhing for a way to turn this ship around and make this conversation about something else—us, preferably. “And I’m pretty sure I’ll want to give it to you, at least in part.” I don’t think I could deny Skyla a bottle of poison to drink if she asked for it.

“Okay”—she exhales—“anybody ever tell you that you talk in circles?” She picks up my hand and interlaces our fingers, easy as breathing. She’s relaxing, letting down her guard, and nothing in the world could make me happier.

“Are you sleeping with Michelle?” she asks without blinking.

“No.” I fire back.

“Have you slept with Michelle?”

“Almost, but that was months after Chloe died, and I was a head case.” And right about now, I’m thanking God I didn’t cave.