Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 7.5) (16 page)

“Truth or Dare?” Ellis suggests.

“No.” I’m quick to douse that spark. “That never ends well.” Nor does it bode well for me since I seem to have a pronounced allergy to the truth. Besides, my neck is still feeling the not so fantastic effects of Wesley’s non-affection, and with my luck I’ll get a dare that requires both bodily strength and agility because I never choose truth.

“Spin the bottle.” Lexy purrs into the birthday boy like a cat in heat. It’s obvious her vagina is on fire and she’s looking for him to extinguish the flames.

Logan lifts his cheek as if he were trying to stop from grinning, and I want to go over there and smack him until I realize it’s me he’s leering at. I give a private smile over to him since I find any leering in my direction completely acceptable.

“
Spin the bottle
? What is this? Seventh grade?” Brielle rolls her eyes. Obviously Brielle doesn’t want to be barraged by the sight of Emily jabbing her tongue down the baby-maker’s throat. She has a look on her face that suggests Drake is exclusively
her
sperm dispenser, and that’s the way it’s going to stay—at least for tonight.

“I don’t know.” Holden is quick to put in his two cents, which also happens to be the sum total of his IQ. “We’ll be seniors next year. We should do something stupid like that.” Holden does six stupid things before breakfast.

“You just graduated.” Nat swats him across the stomach.

Ha! Holden has switched bodies so many times he doesn’t know who the hell he is half the time.

I touch my hand to my head and my hair is matted where he tried to lodge that arrow. I glare over at him. I’m not done with Holden Kragger and something tells me he’s not done with me either. 

“He’s right.” Chloe lifts her chin to the flames. Her hair catches the light and glows a spectrum of amber and gold. “It’s our senior year. This is it, the big one.” She slits her eyes over to Gage’s crotch when she says “the big one” and I suck in a quick breath at the audacity. “Then it all ends,” she whispers, “and everyone goes their separate ways.”

“We’ll always have Paragon.” Ellis picks up a stick and stokes the fire. “Half of us will probably never leave.”

“I’ll be off the island before the ink dries on my diploma,” Lexy garbles it out with an alcohol inspired drawl. “Michelle’s coming with me. We’re going to fashion school.” She looks around trying to spot her partner in designer crime. “We’re so leaving.”

My lips pinch shut in the event I feel the spontaneous urge to fill her in on a few demented details, like the fact Michelle has abruptly left without her. 

“I’m not leaving.” Logan loses his gaze in the growing inferno.

“You always said you’d go to Host.” Lexy leans her scantily clad chest in his direction.

“Where’s Host?” I’m quick to divert Logan’s eyes away from said sex kitten. And wait—wasn’t I wearing a Host sweatshirt in the vitriolic video Demetri gave Logan and I a private screening of?

“It’s a neighboring island with a private university.” Ellis tosses a dry leaf into the flames and it explodes into ashes. “Most kids from Paragon go there.”

“There’s a satellite school here on the island.” Logan relaxes his hands behind his neck. “I’ll probably do the online thing for a while. I already know I’m going to run the bowling alley.”

“Or let it run you.” Lexy trails a finger brazenly down his chest and he catches it before she hits pay dirt.

“So back to the game.” Chloe produces a long-necked bottle from behind her back and for a second I think it’s a root beer bottle, which would almost be serendipitous since it’s Logan’s birthday. I’d hate to think there was even the remote possibility of gifting him a matching dimple on the other side. “We should have rules.” She slits a quick glance in my direction.

Yeah, like whoever gets a hold of that bottle next is obligated to break it in half and go after Chloe—Holden, too, strictly for entertainment purposes. It could be a new party game called
slash the asshole
.

“First rule—no tongues,” I announce. I might be moved to cut a few out should they venture in Gage or Logan’s direction. “And no siblings. That’s sick.” Since two of the six males are quasi related, and dumbasses to boot, I felt it necessary to point this out.

“Tongue is fine.” Chloe motions for Lexy to crawl on over since we’re basically already gender segregated. “Girls first.” Chloe gives the bottle a good spin and it dances and bobs as it twirls round and round. I can practically feel her trying to subject it to her witchcraft and get it to land on her sorry ass. Then, to my horror, Chloe’s black magic yields her the advantage and she smiles wide as the bottle extends its neck in her direction.

Emily snaps up the bottle and hands it over to the boys. Ellis gives it a twist and the amber glass unleashes in a wild spiral.

Honest to God if that thing lands on Gage, I will seriously suspect foul play. There is no freaking way—the odds are totally against it, I mean… It stops just shy of Gage and points at Holden’s foot. Ha! I bet his kisses taste like feet, too.

Holden hops up and offers Chloe a hand, which by the way, she’s totally reluctant to accept. Looks like this whole idea isn’t looking so good right now. Chloe is famous for her bad ideas, like killing my father and sending me to Demetri’s tunnel of terror.

Brielle ribs me as they pucker. “I’m still planning a take down.”

“Good luck with that.” I’ve been outsmarted, out witted, and out played. Chloe is virtually indestructible. I’m betting not even my mother in the sky could hold her down and make her cry celestial uncle.

A flash of lighting comes from nowhere and startles me to attention as if my mother had heard and begged to differ.

Chloe and Holden indulge in a serious suckfest—teeth are being inventoried, tonsils assessed for infection. It wouldn’t be all that brutal to watch if it weren’t for the fact Nat still believes the boy up there impaling Chloe with his slippery member is really the ex-love of her life, Pierce. And clearly, Chloe has no regard for my rules because her tongue has meandered down his throat and straight into his bowels in front of the entire lot of us.

Natalie trembles with fury at the outright display of hedonism. I can feel her seething. It’s a barbaric display she’s being subjected to, what with all the moaning, the roaming of hands, and oh my dear God! I think I just saw Holden’s balls.

Shit. I can never un-see that.

“OK.” Ethan claps obnoxiously, much like his father is prone to do. “Time to shut down the show.”

Chloe traipses back to her seat and gives a haughty look to Nat. She’s lucky Nat doesn’t reach over and give her a flame broiled facial, an enema full of fire by way of that long neck bottle.

Emily takes control and gives the bottle a hard whirl. It spins airborne for a second before slowing to a wobble and landing square in front of me.

I glance over at Gage and his eyes enlarge, his dimple digs in deep on one side as he considers the odds. Logan looks as if he’s deflated at the thought of witnessing the event and to his surprise the bottle lands on him as well.

Logan. I’m more than thrilled to grant him a kiss on this, the great day of his birth.

He bolts up and lends me a hand.

Happy birthday
, I say with an impish grin as I rise to greet him.
Make a wish yet?

I’m standing next to the love of my life, so it already came true. I love you, Skyla Messenger.

The apples of my cheeks burn as his words pulse through me, covered in his affection.

I love you, too, Logan
.

He leans in with a wild look of temptation. I half expect him to devour me from the look of viral lust blooming on his face, but he doesn’t. He offers a sweet peck that bears nothing more than a platonic greeting.

The next time I kiss you, Gage won’t be a part of the equation—nor will he be in the audience
. He coils his fingers into the back of my hair.
I promise you a kiss that you will never forget.

Logan and I take our seats. It takes everything in me not to offer so much as a glance over at Gage. It felt intimate what Logan and I shared, like we bared our naked souls for everyone to see.

“Our spin.” Ellis takes the bottle and twists it softly, and it doesn’t take long before it comes to rest in front of Gage.

My heart thumps once. A hot spear of heat splices through my stomach. Funny how just a little while ago I was about to let him deflower me right here at Logan’s birthday party, which, come to think of it, would have been the ultimate F.U. to the birthday boy in question. And now here I am, right back to doubting him—mad at him for telling Chloe the Counts would “most likely” win. Maybe there’s no reason not to trust Gage. His vision of us arguing on the beach came true. Maybe the rest will, too.

Chloe has her eagle-eyed stare focused intently on that brown glossy tube. It’s like she’s using the power of her disturbed mind to make it yield in her favor and black magically it stops just shy of her toe before sliding over to Emily.

I blink a smile up at Chloe.

“Technically my foot is there.” She points without moving so we could assess the damage and verify her claim.

Shit. It so is.

“It’s pointed at Em.” Brielle gags on the words. “Get up, Emily, and get your kiss from one of the hottest guys on the island.” She gives an impetuous look to Chloe that suggests she might off her in the flames just for the fun of it. I’m really liking this pissy side of Brielle.   

“I take offense at the fact you’d mistrust my judgment.” Chloe stands and walks over to the boys’ circle. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear Chloe and Brielle were having a conversation cloaked in duplicity.

Gage rises and dusts off his shorts with a look of ticked-off frustration.

Swear to God if he kisses her—if his lips even enter the same orifice-laced airspace—I will commit a double homicide in front of a rather large audience and not deny the judicial system of the much-desired felony. I would gladly rot in prison than witness the abomination that’s about to take place.

“Em?” Gage ticks his head for her to get up.

“Excuse me?” Chloe comes in for the kill. “I believe the rules of engagement suggest you kiss the person on whom the bottle landed, and that”—she lowers her head seductively—“would be me.”

Figures. Chloe plays by the rules when she thinks the outcome will plant Gage Oliver’s mouth firmly over hers.

Gage huffs a laugh and cuts a hard look into the forest.

“Well one thing’s for sure, I’m not a quitter.” He brushes me with his cobalt eyes—stares at me for a really long time before he continues. “But I’m also not an enabler.” He glares at Chloe. “I’m certainly not going to encourage your proactive psychosis and let you believe for a minute I would ever want to kiss you. I’d rather set myself on fire or saw off my arm and eat it than dream of touching you with any part of my body.”

A gasp circles the vicinity.

Holy shit. Gage just gave Chloe the finger by way of an I-can’t-stand-you proclamation that I might jot down later from memory. It’s the most beautiful poem Gage Oliver has ever written, unless of course, it’s all an act for my benefit to further propagate their malevolent relationship—which I’m beginning to seriously doubt.

“And another thing?” Gage leans in with his hatred amped up full throttle. “I want to make it really clear to you and everybody here that any agreement you might think we had was born of your own imagination. My only intent was to protect Skyla from any demons that might be out to get her, and that, ironically, turned out to be you. The reason I ever spent time with you was to gain ground on the enemy. Those butterflies? They were to protect Skyla. Everything I ever did was for Skyla, not you Chloe—
never
you. So you can bury your delusions of ever having me, ever blackmailing me to hang out with you, or sleep with you. I won’t be licking the dust off your feet—it’s not going to happen. There’s nothing you can ever do to truly hurt me or the girl I love. Everything you try will fail, and I’ll be there on the day of your ruin, glad to witness your downfall. You are a liar, a schemer and a murderer. You will never have my heart or anyone else’s.”

A deafening silence fills in the volume, as loud as Gage in all his fury.

“You’re right.” Chloe straightens. She grows tall as a statue in her unblemished resolve. She offers a private smile before casting her dark sparkling orbs in my direction. “Everything you do
is
for Skyla’s benefit.”

She walks off into the forest undeterred by his serrated words, uninjured by the projectile missiles he spewed so publically in her direction, and it makes me wonder.

Chapter 75

The Moustache Man

Late in the night, or rather very early in the morning, we cuddle up in our sleeping bags by the fire—Logan and Gage as my distal bookends. We keep the conversation light, never once mentioning Chloe or the ramifications that might come from the harsh rebuke Gage delivered only a few hours ago. I can’t imagine what a verbal blow must feel like coming from the one person on the planet you profess to love. With Chloe it’s more of an obsession—a desire to own. I’m not sure if Chloe understands the concept of love and all of its complexities, including the fact you should give the object of your desire the freedom to be with whomever they please.

I drift off to the sound of Logan and Gage discussing the tire pressure on their trucks, the double filament light bulbs they need to replace for their brake lights. Their quiet midnight murmurs lull me into a series of long, disjointed dreams. I find myself on the sea, floating, lost after a shipwreck. Logan treads water next to me, gathering debris for us to hold onto. He strategizes how to bring us to safety with a fevered speech. Gage and his sad eyes watch from the safety of a boat nearby. He calls for us to get inside, but we don’t trust him. We choose to drift rather than take the shelter, the food, the clean water he offers. Gage is the snake and everything about him is venom.

In the morning a cool mist settles over us like dew on a field of star jasmine. Voices infiltrate the vicinity as the camp rouses out of its drunken stupor. Logan’s birthday bleeds into its second day under a trembling carbon sky.