Paragon is known for its long gray days, for the fog that pulls up its skirt and sits over the face of the island, evergreens that stretch their naked limbs high into the sky allowing the night air, the sky to lick at its most intimate spaces. There have been many tender aches in my young life, but none of which rival this primal urge to leash my body to that of my husband’s and atone for our sins during a long night of electric passion. I blame it all on those damn Kegels.

“Geez, Messenger, how long has it been since you’ve gotten laid?” Chloe throws a stuffed bunny at me, and I catch it before it nails my face. Her hair is crimped and teased, her makeup so neon her lips glow incandescent, but it’s that old-school sweater dress in an eye-popping rainbow of geometric shapes paired with a giant chunky belt that sets off her look—an homage to a tacky era gone by.

“Twelve weeks, three days, and forty-two minutes, seventeen sexually explicit seconds,” I say, dusting my face with powder before snarling at myself in the mirror. But the fog, the island seems to call to me, and I can’t help but set my gaze on the evergreens, the world outside my window. Laken texted to let me know she was parking and would be up in a second. I was a little relieved when her name popped up on my phone. For a second, I thought she cut me off for good.

“Stop glaring outside and panting like a dog. It’s not a good look. I can smell the desperate on you. Put some ’80s perfume on and get in the mood. It’ll cool you off.” She picks up a pretty pink bottle of Love’s Baby Soft my mother gifted me for my last birthday and proceeds to douse me in it.

“Would you stop!” I scoop up both Nathan and Barron in a panic and make a break for the hall. “Perfume is nerve gas for babies in the event you didn’t get the memo,” I bark as I stalk down the fecal-stenched stairs, leaning against the wall with every other step—a trick that’s helped me from toppling with my precious little babes a time or two. There’s no way in hell I’d let Chloe take one from me. She’d probably land the poor kid on his head, on purpose, of course. I may be keeping my enemy close, but I’m not blind to her old tricks. In the celestial mother of all ironies, it’s Chloe and I who are until death do we part. In the end, Chloe’s loyalty, albeit bought at a price, is virtually indestructible.

“Listen, Messenger”—Chloe pulls me back by the elbow as we hit the foyer—“you and I made a little deal. It’s time we start polishing the details of that payoff.”

A ripe anger burns through me. “You are alive. You are in my home, inches from the two beings that represent my beating heart. You are allowed in my presence.” A fire blazes from my eyes. “And yes, you and I will both get what we are looking for.”

Those dark soulless pits of hers scour my features. “You’re not really looking for anything from me, are you, Skyla?”

“Just what I asked.”

A sharp knock erupts, and both boys startle in my arms. Chloe opens the door only to find Laken, whose smile quickly sours.

“I thought we could go together.” She offers a sharp look my way. Laken has completely embraced the ’80s radical color explosion with her psychedelic print miniskirt and mesh net top that accents the hot pink bra underneath. Both Chloe and Laken have gone all out, and all I could piece together was an acid washed jean dress I pulled from my mother’s closet. It’s tight in all the right places, squared off neck, the hemline shorter than anything I could ever envision my mother leaving the house in.

“Yes, for sure. Of course, we can go together. Chloe will have to tag along.” I give a quick wink to the demon to my left. Unfortunately for me, Chloe will be tagging along a lot longer than just one night. As soon as I witnessed Gage Oliver’s demise the night of the christening, I knew my hands were tied. Chloe may not realize it, but she’s the most valuable weapon in my arsenal. In a world where I can’t get a single being to do my bidding, I knew I could rely on my equally desperate and out of control nemesis to step across enemy lines—especially since we have the very same mission in mind. Our goals may not have always lined up, but when it comes to Gage Oliver, we are one in the same, obsessed to a fault, desperately and hopelessly in love with him. Not even our Celestra bloodlines could bond us in the way that Gage has. Apart from one another, Chloe and I were wayward, but together we are a force unstoppable, a nightmare, a blessing, a reign of holy terror—two saviors riding on our white steeds. I’m no fool. I realize Chloe has a heart of destruction when it comes to me and perhaps my family. But for now, with her tethered to my hip, chained to my neck, we are safe from all of her reprehensible harm. I should have done this years ago, but years ago she wasn’t nearly as helpless as she is now. Neither was I.

“Well, hello, you handsome little men,” Laken coos to the boys as she gives Barron a quick tickle, and they both break out into deep, husky belly laughs that vibrate through me like a current of pure joy. “Oh my God! They’re darling!” She scoops up Barron and touches her nose to his. “I’m in love.”

“You better watch out. They’re highly addictive.” I give Nathan a quick kiss to the forehead. “I can’t get over how happy they suddenly are. All they do now is smile and laugh.” And my heart melts each and every time.

Chloe grunts at the thought. “And shit and suck on your tits. I’ve witnessed.” She sneers over at Laken. “You’re not missing much.”

“Why are you here?” The joy quickly drains from Laken’s face. “Skyla, I might have to talk to Dr. Booth and have you committed.”

I bark out a laugh and spin on my heels toward the family room. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Come on, let’s hand these chunky monkeys off for the night. My sisters are pulling diaper duty until I get back.”

We find Mom doing an art project with Misty and Beau while Tad huddles over a stack of bills along with them at the kitchen table. But it’s that odd speck sitting prominent on Mom’s left cheek that calls my attention.

I nod over to her. “I think you’ve got a chocolate chip stuck to your face.” I brush my cheek in an effort to navigate her to the chocolatey confection.

She swipes the air with her hand as if it were no big deal. “It’s a new look I’m trying out.” Her eyes swipe over to Tad a moment before reverting back to me. “I hear a well-placed mole drives men wild,” she whispers with glee.

“A what? Drives men what?” Why the hell would my mother find it suddenly necessary to beguile Tad with what amounts to a pre-cancerous lesion on her face? I scan my mind for any woman with prominent moles, and all I can think of are a few supermodels. Sure, it’s hot as hell, but on them it’s natural. On Mom it just looks like a bird had a very unfortunate discharge. In fact, the only woman that comes to mind with a mole that size on the island is Dom—I suck in a sharp breath. Dominique Winters! Gah! No wonder my mother is whispering! She didn’t want to arouse Tad’s suspicions or apparently his penis! And double gah! The words Tad’s penis just flitted through my mind! It makes me hate Demetri that much more for all the grief he’s given me. Not only is my mother wasting her time trying to beguile him with a knockoff mole—trying to win him back from Dom the Dominatrix—but he’s plummeted my mother into the hell of insecurity. If Demetri really loved her, he wouldn’t give a demonic rat’s ass whether or not she had a mole. And sadly, I suspect it’s true. Demetri couldn’t care less if she had any teeth either—and at this point, her brain is questionable at best.

I turn my attention to the family room where I find Mia on the couch with—oh shit.

“Rev?” I blink back in horror at the biker wannabe with his shorn head and dirty leather jacket that’s probably crawling with germs and semen because God knows you can’t wash leather. “Do you two have a date?”

“Yup!” Mia springs up and takes Nathan from me while doing a little happy dance. Her lashes look suspiciously long and luscious, and it’s not until I note one sitting crooked do I realize they came from a box. Her makeup is garish, bright red lips, enough highlighter to signal to the moon. Mia Landon isn’t looking to stay home and change diapers all night. “I’ll be right here with these little dudes. Rev’s helping me babysit.”

“No way, no how.” I pull Nathan right back. “Laken, hold on tight. There’s no way I’m leaving these angels with this hot-to-trot duo decked out in Halloween costumes.”

Rev gives that perennially bored look he’s famous for. “Tell her I’m good with kids, Laken.”

A breath gets caught in my throat. That’s right! Laken and Rev are practically stepsiblings now that their parents have hooked up for the seemingly long haul.

Laken squirms a moment. “He really is. Lacy and Marky adore him.”

Lacy is Laken’s little sis, and Marky is Coop’s.

“Traitor!” I gulp for air at how far the mighty have fallen. “Chloe, take Barron.” Desperate times call for desperate bitches to assist me.

“No.” Laken spins away from Chloe’s purple claws. “Rev is going to do just fine. He’s not a menace, I promise.”

“Ha!” Tad leaps from his seat, waving a piece of paper in his hand. “He’s exactly a menace. An expensive one at that.”

Crap. It’s never a good sign when Tad and I agree on something.

“That beast he dragged into the house is riddled with fleas! And now we need to tent the entire house!”

Mom shakes her head, rolling her eyes at how pathetic Tad is—even though I highly suspect he’s right. “We have termites, Tad. It’s an entirely different species.” She looks to me. “When we tore out the poopy carpet on the stairs, we found rot leading straight to the floorboards. It turns out the entire house has been eaten from the inside out and we need to fumigate.”

“Gah!” I clutch onto Nathan a little bit tighter. It sounds as if my mother and Chloe are on the same nerve gas page.

“Don’t you worry about a thing.” She lifts a glitter-covered finger at me. “Once we schedule the appointment, we’ll all be forced to leave the house for three short days.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tad grumbles, falling back into his seat. “It’s all just a ploy to get you out of the way so they can up and leave with your valuable treasures. I’m staying put.”

Mom clicks her tongue. “They won’t fumigate with you here. In fact, the paperwork says not even a houseplant can survive. We’ll have to store all of our food in plastic bags.”

“Just plastic bags?” I won’t eat here for a year. “Dear God, it’s going to be Chernobyl all over again.” As if Gage turning to the dark side wasn’t bad enough, the boys and I are going to lose all of our hair—forever.

Tad scoffs at the thought. “They’re not getting rid of me, Lizbeth. I’ll hide out. I’ll prove all that gas-smash baloney is just a get-rich-quick scheme—off your jewelry.”

“She has no jewelry,” I say, stepping over. Mom is the most bling-deprived wife on the planet, no thanks to Tad’s inability to provide her with an ounce of anything that sparkles and shines, sans the glitter she’s covered with at the moment.

A row of miniature Mason jars filled with gold encrusted tubules catches my eye.

“What are we making?” I ask both Misty and Beau who flank my mother proudly, each busying themselves with the craft at hand. Misty proudly holds up a glob of elongated paste covered with glitter. “Poopy!” she shouts with pride. Her dark hair and those Gage Oliver blue eyes make me melt on cue. Damn Demetri for creating such perfect children.

“Unicorn poop,” Mom corrects. “In fact, we can’t sell it fast enough. I’ve got thirteen more orders just in the last half hour!”

“What?” I reach over and pick up a bottle of what appears to be glittered-covered turds floating in water and I hand it over to Laken for inspection. “Who’s ordering this and why?” Clearly people have far too much spending money to ever be safe with.

“Everyone.” Mom tosses up her hands in the air and gold dust rains from her limbs.

“It’s her new little hobby.” Tad gives an arrogant grin. “I set up a shop for her on eBay, and all she does now is sell crap.”

“Profitable crap,” Mom is quick to correct. “I make about five bucks a bottle, and the buyer covers shipping. My little hobby is how we plan on paying for the fumigation we need to have done. Not to mention the fact I’ve cornered the market on glitter-covered fecal snow globes”

Oh, my dear God. There it is. Tad has finally driven my poor saint of a mother to the brink of insanity, and in order for her to give her children the most basic necessities in life, she now wades in shit full-time. Scratch that saint comment. Demetri has turned her into quite the devious vixen. One of these days I’m going to bust her balls over the fact Misty came from an out-of-marriage arrangement, but, tonight, like any other night, Demetri is just a means to an end.

“Why don’t you ask Demetri for the money?” The words fall from my lips like rusted coins. “In fact, I bet if you asked for a new house he’d throw that in, too.” Okay, so he may not be my favorite demon, but dear God if he could stop my mother from rolling in crap just to survive—a dollar or two from that devil wouldn’t be a bad idea. Not that I personally would take a demonic dime from him. Asshole. Although technically, living in a house that Demetri paid for would amount to the same thing.

“You know”—Chloe picks up one of my mother’s fecal treasures and gives it a quick shake—“unicorn shit is great and all, but vaginas are all the rage right now.”

The room grows eerily silent as the entire lot of us secretly plots to muscle shut the talking vagina herself.

“Vaginas?” my mother practically whispers, but the labial intrigue on her face is unmistakable. My mother might have a tiny obsession with procreative parts in general so the intrigue is almost understandable. Almost.

“That’s right.” Chloe smacks the glorified Mason jar back to the table with a wallop. “Vagina pendants are sweeping the country. It’s an iconic symbol of feminism, not to mention the curves and texture are practically a work of art.”

The quiet hush continues to suppress the room as I gauge how worried I should be that Chloe seems to have a superior understanding of the vajayjay subject matter at hand.

“Vaginas, huh?” Mom’s anatomical wheels are spinning as she looks to the ceiling. After all, profiting off pink parts is only a stone’s throw from turds bathed in glitter.

“Bagina! Bagina!” Beau barks it out, inspiring a laugh from both Mia and Rev. Soon Misty joins in on the vaginal fun, and, swear to God, Tad’s face just froze in an unholy grimace.

“Crap,” Laken hisses under her breath. “We’d better get going.”

“Yes.” I’m quick to agree. God, I’m so embarrassed that Laken had to witness firsthand the lunacy that is my family. Who am I kidding? That lunacy is the norm. We overbreed, and come up with outrageously bad ideas while our financial means remain just above the poverty level. If my mother’s life is any indication of where I’m headed I’ll have eight kids before my twenty-fifth birthday, my boobs will be swollen milk jugs that everyone on the island would have had the displeasure to ogle by then, and I’ll be filling Mason jars with glitter-covered poop because that’s the way things work in our cult. “Chloe”—I growl over at her because it just so happens the she-devil and I are in a private cult of our own at the moment—“why don’t you wait outside before you start a mini feminist revolution without meaning to?”

She clicks her tongue my way. “I more than mean to start a revolution. And every revolution I start, I plan to finish.” Her dark eyes flit to mine as she takes off.

“That girl is a menace!” Tad barks.

Oh hell, I’m agreeing with Tad on every single point tonight.

“Maybe Chloe should be here with you when the fumigation begins.” A girl can dream. I give my mother a quick wink as she takes the baby from me.

Mom takes the baby from Laken as well and doubles her pleasure as she bounces and coos the handsome boys in her arms. “Grumpy old Tampon doesn’t mean any of that silliness.” She nuzzles her nose to Barron’s.

Laken gasps at the mention of Tad’s quirky moniker.

“And on that note, I’ll see you guys on the flip side.” I give a quick wave.

“I’ll keep the boys in my room tonight!” Mom shouts after me. “I want you to sleep in, Skyla! Preferably not alone.”

My cheeks burn bright as Laken and I make our way toward the door.

“She’s subtle.” Laken gives a quick chuckle.

“She’s also far too hopeful for her own good. Gage Oliver isn’t getting laid tonight.” The sweet spot between my thighs bucks as if it begged to differ—begged being the operative word. Damn Kegels.

Holy hell. My entire body catches fire at the thought of that boy running his tongue down every last inch of me. I do miss the view of his dark head at the base of my thighs. My breathing grows erratic as Laken, Chloe, and I make our way outside into the arms of the cool Paragon mist.

“You okay?” Laken presses her hand to my forehead as if reading a fever.

“She’s fine,” Chloe is quick to snark while gingerly removing Laken’s hand as if she owned me. In a very real way Chloe does own me. “She’s been misfiring orgasms for the last two weeks. Did you strap that diaper on like I told you to in an effort to keep the wild rivers from drenching your panties?”

“You’re disgusting,” I say as we head to Laken’s car.

Chloe links arms with me as we stride down the driveway. “I’d offer to buy you a dildo, but since you have access to Gage Oliver himself, you and I both know it would be sacrilegious.”

“She’s right.” Laken gets in and we follow.

Laken and Chloe don’t agree on anything.

But they are right.

And both my uncontrollably wet vagina and I happen to agree.

The bowling alley’s sign blinks on and off, a feature that isn’t at all purposeful as much as it is a symptom of an electrical short in the system. The L in bowling has altogether given up. It had months ago, if not years. For the first time ever, I see the entire block shape building as a sad reminder of an era gone by, and deep in my heart I wonder if that’s symbolic for Logan and me as well. I haven’t given my white knight a sexual thought since our honeymoon ended—or at least not that I wish to acknowledge at the moment. Well, there was that one time—all those dreams when we thought Gage was gone last year, and then there was the—okay, hell, I’ve had a sexual thought or two toward the fair-haired Oliver, but that’s not the point. I knew I would be with Gage after Logan passed away, and I fell into his strong arms willingly and quick. But, technically, Gage and I are separated, perhaps forever, and dear God, I need a husband, past or present, to put out this fire heating up my panties.

My heart pounds unnaturally as we make our way inside. The bowling alley is lit in neon lights, streamers and vinyl records decorate the place at every turn. Bree mentioned Logan gave her carte blanche to do as she wished, and true to Bree fashion, she has successfully transformed the place from a struggling bowling alley to a struggling record store circa 1980-something.

“Cool.” Chloe dons a pair of white shades as she bops her head to the Go-Go’s who scream out their ode to the decade from the speakers. “Oh my fucking wow.” She slides the sunglasses down her nose an inch to get a better look at whatever it is she’s ogling.

I glance around at the thick crowd and am pleased to note that the graveyard revival peeps have all come out in number. I spot the Smite brothers, Casey, and a few of the cliquey girls that have been a hoot to hang out with. But I highly doubt Chloe finds the cemetery suicide squad drop-your-sunglasses-worthy.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Then I see it.

“Oh, Skyla.” Laken sighs into the sight as if even she were taken aback.

There he is, hair as dark as a raven’s wing, those lucent eyes the color of this spinning marble we’re stranded on, the body of a linebacker, that grin rising in my honor filled with wicked and deliciously lewd intent. Holy hell. Heaven help me. It’s clear all thoughts of bedding Logan Oliver have been violently wiped off the table.

Chloe takes a step toward him. “Gage Oliver does not fight fair.”

Laken steps up next to her in an odd show of alliance. “Gage Oliver in a suit is quite the sight to behold.”

Wesley pops up next to him, and she takes in a quick breath as if burned by a flame. “I’d better go find Coop.” But her feet stagnate and she twists toward Wesley’s comely frame instead. “Coop thinks Wes stole my virginity.”

I’m pulled from my Gage-inspired trance a moment. “Coop stole it,” I correct. I know this because Laken confided in me ages ago during one of our many fireside chats down at Rockaway Beach. I specifically remember because I was thrilled to know Wes was shut down from the one thing he really wanted—that most sacred part of Laken. If Wes wasn’t willing to leave the Counts for her, then he certainly didn’t deserve to make it all the way to home base. And honestly, if Wes would rather live without Laken than leave that coven of wickedness, he really doesn’t deserve her.

“No, Skyla.” She winces. “Wes stole it.” Her voice is riddled with regret. “I just wish he didn’t. I guess we all have our regrets in life.” She takes off, and Chloe falls into view. My own personal regret.

“Hear that? Wesley stole it.” Chloe nuzzles her shoulder against mine as we glare at the menace in question together. “And all this time he’s been plying me to morph my features before he fucks me because of his desperate ache to have her. He’s a liar, Skyla.”

I swallow hard as both he and Gage head in this direction. “Maybe he is the liar in the equation.” Laken didn’t lose her virginity to Wesley—or at least in that point in time. “Or maybe he’s just the time traveling vagina snatcher?”

“What?” Chloe sounds affronted by the fact her husband’s coital habits span both time and, well, vaginas. “Wesley.” Her voice strums out his name, husky with lust. “I’m so damn proud of him, I might actually bed him tonight myself.”

So much for disappointment.

“Hey.” Gage zips forward in that hot, very, very fucking hot zoot suit of his. The scent of his familiar cologne sets my senses ablaze and, oh my God, I am done. There’s an ache deep in my belly for this boy I just can’t deny.

I zoom past him without so much as a hello, hardly able to catch my breath as an arm snags me to the side.

“Here she is!” Brielle pulls me into a strong embrace. “My one and only favorite best friend!”

I step back with a stunned smile on my face, my body still quivering to completion from the Gage-gasm that just took place. Emily, Lexy, Nat, and Kate stop bobbing to the music long enough to acknowledge me.

Lexy bares her fangs my way. “Logan drove us in the Mustang. You would have loved it.”

My upper lip twitches at her ridiculous stab at driving me insane with jealousy. Of course, I don’t care that Logan drove her in the Mustang he gifted me for my sixteenth birthday. The very one I almost lost my virginity in to him.

“Oh? Is he burning that too next week?” I couldn’t help it. She practically walked into that one. I lunge over and yank Kate into a quick embrace. “You look great.” I pull back and wince. “How are the vocal cords doing?” I feel terrible that she’s stuck with a bum set of pipes.

“Better.” It comes out in a hoarse whisper, and I’m thrilled to hear it. Maybe now we can get somewhere with that bizarre piece of news involving Emma. Not that declaring Emma trouble is any real news. I’ve known that for the last three years solid at least. “You look great, too.”

“Thanks. But you are seriously glowing tonight. I’m so happy you’re back.” Her blonde hair hardly looks damaged after lounging in a casket for as long as it did. In fact, Kate looks just as alive and ready to thrive on the dance floor as any of the girls here tonight. “You all look great.” I make a face at Lex. “Even you.”

“Be nice.” Chloe wraps her arms around me from behind and rocks me to some old Madonna song. “I’ve seen those pictures she’s taken of your monkeys. I’ve always suspected Lexy was good to have around for a reason.”

“I am good to have around.” She gives a thankful nod to the Bitch Squad leader herself. “Logan is especially appreciative. Our relationship is moving along nicely, thank you very much. Maybe you can talk some sense into Messenger, Chloe. Logan is just waiting for her blessing.” She looks to me, pleading as if she honestly believes her own bullshit. “You have your man, Skyla. You can’t have mine.”

Chloe laughs as her chest rumbles against my back. “Skyla can have all the men she wants, Lexy. You and I have always known that. If Skyla wants to fall on her knees to enjoy Logan as an afternoon snack, sit over Dudley’s lap during school hours, and bed Gage nightly, it’s her right and prerogative as our fearless leader. After all, it’s her ovaries that will produce the heirs to both the Fem and Celestra legacies.”

Kate’s face contorts. “Is that what’s happened since I’ve been gone?” she whispers her loudest.

“No.” I wave off the foolish idea, but my body embroils in heat at the visual. A bite of Logan’s tender loins, sitting on Marshall in all the right places, and Gage—letting him take me aggressively from behind, on top, sideways, the thought sends me panting to an all-new high.

Em grunts at the sight of me. “She’s exiled herself in a self-imposed celibacy—hence the heavy breathing.” Em’s hair is in a perfect black rainbow over her head, and set against her paper white skin it creates a haunting contrast. “Geez, take your husband home tonight, Messenger. Horny isn’t a good look on you.”

“Chloe trained Ember to say vagina.” It blurts out of me as a means to distract the masses from my own smoldering girl parts. God, Ember wasn’t even in the room during that three-ringed circus Chloe was conducting, but I’m sure, soon enough, she’ll join the feminist choir.

Em grunts as if holding back vomit. “I’m going to break your neck, Bishop.”

And just like that, Em drags Chloe off while Lex discusses the latest fashions with Kate and our quasi-West reunion disbands.

Nat leans in. “Thanks, Messenger.” Her arms fall over me hard as she offers up a caustic hug. “You gave Pierce back to me—and on top of that you gave me Kate.”

“Yes, well, I also unleashed far too many Kraggers into the world for it to ever be safe again, so don’t go thanking me yet. Things never end well with the K clan running amuck on the island.” I give a quick pan of the vicinity for the Kraggers in question and spot Emerson slam dancing with a couple of the dead on the dance floor. “Sure, they seem to be on the right side of the celestial law at the moment, but, let’s face it, their father is one of my least favorite wild cards, and who knows what will happen in the name of family solidarity.” Wait. Did she say Pierce?

Just as my mouth falls open to correct her, Pierce Kragger himself pops up and drapes an arm around her shoulders. He looks every bit as nefariously handsome as he should—considering he’s really Nev. Right?

“Hey babe.” He offers Nat a nonchalant kiss before reverting his attention to me.

“Oh, no, no, no,” I shake my head frantically. “Nev? Is that you? You’re still in there, right?” I narrow my gaze as if trying to see beyond those pastel eyes, straight into his questionable soul.

He laughs with his hand pressed to his chest as if my words had the power to kill him all over again. And if it’s Pierce, this may not be such a bad thing.

He grimaces. “Relax, Messenger. I heard about the ruckus and as soon as I found out Holden and Emerson were about to feel sunshine on their backs once again, I wanted in. Plus, it’s for a good cause. I’m all for helping out our Nephilim brothers and sisters.”

“First”—I hold up a finger still completely in the dark as to where the hell Nev is—“there is no sunshine on Paragon. And second, if you were still alive, I’m betting you would have sided with the Barricade.”

“True and True. But I’m an optimist about the weather—and I’m dead, Skyla. I see the error of my ways. I’m siding with you. Your mother agreed, and here I am. Just touched down this afternoon.”

My God you’d think he were transported here on a 747 rather than the Candace express. “And Nev?” I’m almost afraid to ask. Ezrina is going to slice me to ribbons if my mother saw fit to haul him back to paradise. Who’s going to rub her feet and do an ice cream run at midnight? Me—that’s who.

Pierce gives a quick glance over his shoulder. “He’s here somewhere. I’m just a traveler. Sort of like a temporary Visa holder. My cellular structure isn’t solid but I look every bit as strong as steel.” He pounds his chest like a gorilla and his hand goes right through his shirt, each and every time. “She thought it’d be okay since the mission was to expose our people. What better way to expose them than with a real live ghost?” Both Nat and he guffaw as if it were the most hilarious thing.

Oh my God. My mother has gone rogue. And the beauty of her demented, haunted plan? She gets to pin it all on me. Shit. Just shit.

Pierce nods to someone in the back and gives a wild wave. “Man, it’s like old home week.” He lets out a whoop. “I’ll be right back.” He presses a rather wet kiss over Nat’s lips that looks anything but ghostly.

“Don’t worry, he’s good, Skyla.” Nat frowns into the crowd as if he weren’t. “Especially good in bed.” She gives a hearty wink my way. “Turns out he can be as rock solid as the next guy when he has to. Plus, this way, we don’t need to use protection. I’ve never been so happy in all my life, and I owe it all to you. Really, I can’t thank you enough.”

“Whatever you do, don’t thank me.” My heart sinks for her. “I know how much Pierce and Kate mean to you, but they’ll have to go back into the box soon enough. This little interdimensional playdate can’t last forever. Once their mission is through, they’ll have to resume their dirt nap.”

Her lips rise to a scowl. “You really have a crap way with words, Messenger.” She shudders—most likely due to the reality that dirt nap just invoked. “But I just want you to know that you have a friend in me for life.” Her coffee-colored eyes hook to mine like she means it. “Anything you need, anytime. I’m there for you. If you’re ever in a bind, I’m the one you can count on.”

Chloe pops back up with a laugh caught in her throat. “And knowing Skyla, you’ll be on call twenty-four seven!”

I glare at my faux best friend for a moment, and she’s quick to sober up.

“Thank you, Nat,” I say without taking my eyes off the malfeasance before me. “The first thing you can help me with is making sure Bishop stays away from me for the remainder of the evening.”

Her mouth opens as if to protest, but Nat is quick to whisk her away to the other end of the dance floor, and Emerson wastes no time in slamming her body into Chloe’s. I bet she’d like to bash her head in too for landing her on the other end of the great bodily divide in the first place. Anyway, once Holden gets within striking range, Chloe won’t be able to stay regardless. I realize that Chloe and I have our covenant to tend to, but tonight, with those wild rivers rushing between my thighs, the last person I want touching me is the vagina queen herself.

“Ms. Messenger.” The sexiest Sector on earth or in heaven pops up, and I’m stunned by his blessed by God looks.

My body bucks on cue, and I latch onto Marshall with my eyes shut tight and feel that electrical current rush from his body to mine. And oddly, quite shockingly, I can’t seem to bring myself to the brink of this sexual disaster.

“You’re losing your touch.” I frown up at him as a breath hitches in my throat. “Marshall Dudley.” I pull back to take him in, and I can’t help but gasp. “You are resplendent tonight.” That visual Chloe planted in my head with me utilizing Marshall like a sit and spin takes over, and my breathing is right back to borderline erratic.

“Skyla.” Marshall pulls me into a partial embrace as we begin to sway to “Careless Whisper”. “Dare I say I look my usual self. Above average without saying so, of course, but what pray tell has you so absorbed by my presence?”

“I’m in desperate need of some sexual healing.” My cheek rubs over his rock-hard chest, and I give a little whimper. “It’s all these damn hormones bottlenecking in my vagina just begging to shoot out like a Roman candle on the Fourth of July.” Damn Kegels, too, but I leave that demented exercise out of the equation for now.

“Language.”

“Technically, vagina is an anatomical term, popularized this evening by the big clitoris herself, Chloe.” I wince up at him. “More anatomy, sorry.”

He lets out a heavy sigh as he scans the crowd, his fingers press into my back ever so slightly, and it feels like a most welcome relief. I need to be touched, to be licked, and suckled in a fit of lust and passion.

“I can hear you,” he rumbles.

“I was hoping.” My tongue does a quick revolution over my lips as I look up at him and, dear God! Why am I doing my best to seduce Marshall?

“I am your husband,” he’s quick to point out. His chest adheres close to mine. It’s so heavily sculpted I can make out the hard ridges of his abs from beneath his dress shirt. “And I do have a talent for spinning women over my lap.” His lids grow heavy, his lips curve into a devilish grin. “I’ve been known to bend a few over my lap as well.”

“Let me guess.” My voice trembles out in a wave full of quivers. “They used to call you The Punisher?” The thought of Marshall doling out corporal punishment incites an extraordinary level of excitement in me. “I guess this is the part where I tell you I’ve been a very, very bad girl.”

His lips turn down, making him look far too comely for words.

“You don’t need to tell me, Skyla. I’m witness to the event myself.” His eyes flit into the thicket of bodies next to us. “The great corpse revival is evidence of such wayward behavior. And answer me this.” His gaze hardens over mine. This gruff, down and deliciously dirty version of my favorite Sector is alarmingly attractive. “All of these resurrections and where is your father?”

And just like that, my lady boner disappears. “Why are you dragging my father into this?” I give his ribs a quick pinch. “My father has been through enough.” It’s true. I had entertained the idea. A quick visit to L.A. to the cemetery that houses his remains is all that stands between the great beyond and having him here on Paragon with me. “I don’t know what they’ll do to them.” Tears come to my eyes as I glance out at the crowd mostly comprised of long past souls. “But they’re brave for volunteering. I’m not sure I would have chosen that option myself.” I could only ask the question. It was the Holy Spirit who quickened them to respond. “They know the risks.” My voice flounders as if questioning if I knew them at all. “And because of their bravery, my people will be sheltered for a very real shitstorm.”

“Mmm…” Marshall muses in agreement rather than calling me out on the expletive. “Those you fear—they’re here tonight, Skyla. Watching you.” That drugged look in his eyes melts over me. Marshall has a way of making you feel as if you are the only person he sees. “They blend in so seamlessly, but they are thirsty for alien blood— Nephilim blood.”

“Aliens.” I mean to shake my head at the idea, but I shudder instead. “Wes has the planet so primed for some takeover from space, the world practically demands it at this point. It’s so absurd.”

“It’s the unknown, Skyla.” His fingers stroke my sides, sailing lower still, dangerously close to my quaking thighs. “It’s the thought of what could be, how quickly they can come.” He leans in, burying his mouth so close to my ear the entire left side of my face burns from his heat. “Imagine being penetrated quickly, invaded, while you lie open and vulnerable, being taken so violently, by force, bent to do their bidding while they ravish all you own, while they sink their mouth deep into the nexus of your—”

A body interjects itself between us, but it’s too late as my body explodes into one uncontrivable quiver.

“I haven’t lost my touch, Ms. Messenger,” Marshall calls out as he takes off into the crowd. “Don’t you forget it.”

A hearty sigh escapes me as I open my eyes to find that the new arms wrapped around me belong to none other than Chloe herself.

“What are you doing here?” I sneer into the crowd and spot Nat locked in Pierce Kragger’s tree trunk-like arms. “Never mind. I see Nat’s traded you for something far more sexually satisfying.”

A dark laugh remains buried in her chest. “Judging by that orgasm you just had, I’d say the same went for you and Gage. Marshall Dudley, Skyla? Really? And right here in the bowling alley. I knew you were a little perv.”

“Oh, shut up. You and I both know I’ve been suffering from an entire string of mini earthquakes all week long.” It’s true. I’ve had an entire rash of vaginally-inspired seismic events in my husband’s absence. “What is it? What do you want?” I try to untangle our limbs, but she latches on that much tighter.

“First, I saw that disgusting wanton look on your face for someone other than your better half, and I thought I’d be the one to smack some sense into you. And second—” She shoots someone to her right a dirty look, a regular occurrence for Chloe. Pausing to distribute her hatred is as natural as breathing with Bishop. I’m betting it’s Emerson. The fact Chloe hates me doesn’t make me special. “Oh, Skyla.” Her finger traces my lips before she painfully flicks my nose. “You are special to me.” That familiar drugged look enters her eyes, only she trades the sexual nature of it for something far fiercer. “We are beyond sisters, beyond lovers. Our Celestra bond has us bound together, intricately woven through the tapestry of our beings. We are the light and the dark, the other side of our own coin.” Her brows lift a moment. “We are frighteningly one in the same, disposable to the powers that pursue us. And they do pursue us, Skyla. We are their pawns.” Her fingers grip me, and my body electrifies with fright, with a strange delight and an eagerness to hear her pour out her truths. “We are the survivors. Our greatest enemies, our only true friends. We can no longer trust anyone outside of ourselves. For me to deceive you would be tantamount to deceiving myself. We have overcome the pettiness of who we were—and here we are, the new reality, the best reality. The most dangerous reality of all—together we have the power to move heaven and earth, destiny and fate. We have put destiny on a chain, called fate a cruel illusion to its face. We are the victors, Messenger.” Her mouth inches closer to mine, those wicked eyes still knifing their way into my existence. Chloe is luring me into the dark pit of her soul, and I can feel the suction. Can’t fight it. “We are the—”

Logan plucks her off me so hard and fast, he sends her twirling into the crowd.

“Wow.” My hands find a home over his waist. “Eighties music really brings out Chloe’s esoteric side.”

“What was she saying?” Logan searches my features with those citrine lenses he sees the world through, and I melt at the sight of him.

“Is that a black eye?” I’m suddenly pulled out of the quasi-sexual moment as I inspect his swollen features. “And a fat lip? Logan, who did this to you?”

He inches back as I attempt to touch his cheek. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Talk about it, Oliver, or I’ll rip this place to pieces looking for the dude who did this to you. I bet he’s got two broken legs. There’s no way the Logan Oliver I know would let anyone get away with ruining his perfect face.”

His eyes close as he pushes out a sad, half-hearted laugh. “Trust me, I didn’t lay a hand on the other dude.”

“And that would be because?” God, if Gage did this to him, I’ll bite off his nads. Right after I roll them around in my mouth for just a tiny bit. My body shakes just begging for more of the visual.

“That would be because it wasn’t a dude, Skyla.” Logan’s shoulders sag with defeat. “I got beat up by a girl.”

“What?” A tiny laugh bubbles in my throat, but I won’t give it. “Who is she? God, it was Lex, wasn’t it? I always knew she had a dark side.”

“No.” He pulls me in, and I can feel his body rumbling with laughter. “It wasn’t Lex. Look, I don’t want to talk about it right now. What had you locked in Chloe Bishop’s arms?”

My hormones roar back to life at the sight of him, resilient, impervious to any form of satisfaction Marshall might have doled out. That orgasm, powerful as it might have been, has nowhere near taken the edge off.

He winces. “Never mind that. What are you thinking?” He gives my body a quick squeeze, and I can feel that coil tucked deep inside of me ratcheting up again.

“I need to get laid.” I bite down hard over my lip. “I’m sorry,” I mouth, this time near tears. “It’s my body. I’m a ball of nerves, a jumble of hormones. And don’t look at me like that. It’s not my fault biology is trying to have its way with me. You can’t judge me.”

“I’m not judging you.” He squints at me with a pained look in his eyes. “In fact, I get it. I’ve got needs, too. Trust me, I know how agonizing a little deprivation can be.”

“You do? You do!” I practically shout it in his face. “Maybe we should help each other out?” God! What am I saying? “You know, just something quick and dirty in the office maybe?” Chloe was right. Even I can smell the desperation on me.

“Skyla.” He inches back at the offensive odor no doubt. Then his lips twitch, and a dark look comes to his eyes as if he’s actually entertaining the idea. “I want to invite you to come to the bowling alley before the demolition.”

“That sounds great. But as much as I would love to roll around every square inch of this place with you naked, I’m not sure I can wait that long.”

He gives a dark laugh. “No, Skyla. I want to do exactly this with you.” He sways his hips with mine in time to the music. “I want to give the bowling alley a proper private sendoff, and I couldn’t think of a better person to say goodbye to the place with than you.”

“Not even Ellis?” I tease. It’s actually heartwarming the way Logan has taken our old friend under his wing.

“Not even Ellis.” There’s a tired look in his eyes that pains me. Logan is thirsty for so much more than something quick and dirty.

“I’ll gladly be here to help you give this place a proper sendoff.” My body adheres to his, and my hormones are taking the elevator up once again. “But first, how about a quick look at the schedule?” I nod toward the office. “Maybe you can bend me over the desk for old times’ sake?”

He barks out a laugh. “I have never bent you over the desk, Skyla.”

“Now is a perfect time to start.”

He does a double take in that naughty direction. “On second thought, I think you might be right.” Logan moves his hips over mine as he walks me backward, and my lips come shy of taking a bite of those ropey muscles buried in his neck. “A wise man once said to me that great love requires great sacrifice.” He dots a kiss to my nose as he sends me sailing backward. “Have a great rest of the night, Skyla. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

I smack into a wall of granite and turn to find the exact person I was hoping to avoid and shockingly it isn’t Chloe—it’s Gage.

“Hello, beautiful.” His voice strums erotically deep, and somehow it doesn’t come across like some cheesy pickup line. His lids hood low and there is no mistaking his sexual intent. But that desperate ache Gage has worn so long for me like a mask seems to be missing. This is a different version of my husband, one in control, one who knows what he wants and understands in no uncertain terms that he is about to get it.

“Look”—I try to untangle myself from his power grip—“I’m not in any mood to listen to what you might have to say.” In truth, I fear the words that will spill from his lips. It has never been my stubborn streak rearing its ugly head when it comes to hearing him out as much as it’s been a demon of fear with its wings spread over me like a plague.

“I’m not interested in talking to you,” he says it quick and deliberate while his arms cinch over me like a vise. “I’m interested in doing other things with you this evening.” His fingers press in just enough, and a spark jumps from him, igniting the fuse that runs straight to that aching part of me that’s been so desperate to have him. In truth, not Marshall—not even Logan, could have satisfied this itch. My flesh simply craved my other half. The very flesh that abides in covenant with me for better or for worse, and we had certainly hit the very worse—a far lower of a plummet than either of us could have anticipated. “I miss you.”

He comes in as if he’s about to land a kiss over my lips, but he turns his head ever so slightly and rubs his scruffy stubble over my cheek, hard and searingly hot, and I give an audible gag as I gasp for my next breath. Hot damn. Gage Oliver has loosened the shackles of any politeness that might have resided in him. Tonight, this is a far more commanding, demanding, rough around the celestial edges version of him coming out to play—only he’s not playing at all. Gage Oliver means fucking business, and the first order of fucking would be with, well—me.

“Tonight, you are mine, Skyla.” He pulls back and presses those cobalt eyes into me. “We are more than the sum total of any definition the universe wants to crown us with. We are husband and wife. We have the ability to overcome whatever the powers that be decide to fling our way. We are the masters of our own destinies. We don’t wear the coat of affliction when we’re together. Instead, we dance across the stage of life as one.” His hands grip me tight, and my body sizzles as it begs to have him.

“Wow,” I say breathless, my lips inching closer to the home of his mouth. “Sounds like you and Chloe have been smoking from the same crack pipe.”

His left dimple digs in deep as he expels the slightest rumble of a laugh. “I hear Chloe has kept my bed warm for me.”

“She’s not as skilled as you are, but you know what they say—keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

His head tilts to the side, and a harsh neon green light from above offers him an alien illumination. “That’s funny. I’m going to keep you pretty close tonight.”

“How close?” My body quivers as if begging for me to forgive him—or in the least overlook a few couple hundred indiscretions so we can finally get a little relief around here.

“Damn close.” Gage bears down on me with a drunk gaze as he leans in and brushes his lips over my temple. His arms latch over my back, and he pulls me with a greedy aggression I have never seen before. “I’m going to come inside you, Skyla.” His voice is heavy and heated in my ear, and I shiver. There’s nothing like a good double entendre to twist the cords of desire even tighter. “There’s no escaping this tonight. You will lie down in my bed. I am not taking no for an answer.”

My entire body morphs into one giant heartbeat as that current he’s unleashed jumps from my fingers all the way down to my toes. Of course, if I wanted him to take no for an answer, he damn well would but, well, I have far more sexually sinister intentions to deal with.

An arm pulls me off him abruptly, but my gaze remains locked over his. “My bed,” I shoot right back just as a girl with ratted pink hair attaches herself to him and begins gyrating away as if he were a vaginal itching post.

Melody Winters. I’d recognize that sexual distress signal anywhere. But instead of pulling her off my man, my thumb curls around the ring on my finger as the stone lights up electric. She’s already tried to pry it off my hand once. There’s no way I’m about to give her another chance. This ring has power—straight from the throne of God, literally. I can’t surrender it to her now. At this point, who cares about the fact Chloe swiped it from some long-deceased cranky granny? As soon as Melody called me a time traveling thief, I bolted from the Gas Lab. I had far better things to do than listen to someone berate my past sins. Yes, what Logan and I did was wrong—hey, how did she know about that, anyway? And technically, I was a murderer. A thief is far too light a title for what Logan and I pulled off all those tumultuous years ago. A thought comes to me as I stare down at the glowing stone, the exact color of Gage Oliver’s eyes. I give a quick glance around and find the dicey Bishop herself laughing it up with her brother, and I speed on over.

“Chloe?” I land the ring between us like the stumbling block it’s proving to be. “You said this ring was gifted to you. Who gave it to you?” I know whose rotten-toothed finger it once sat on, but I think it’s time I get the low down and dirty details.

Her head immediately jerks to where Gage is currently trying to deflect Melody and her acrobatic endeavors, impressive as they might be—all moves my body wishes it could employ on him myself.

“Melody thinks I stole this,” I hiss into Chloe’s face.

Brody takes my hand and stares into it as the blue glow reflects off his eyes. “Melody Winters’ ring?”

“It’s mine now.” I’m quick to retract my hand. “Speak up, Bishop. Why did that booty shaking skank accuse me of being a time traveling thief?” How would Melody know anything about that dive bar Chloe and I visited during our first nefarious light drive as a dynamic duo?

Her mouth opens, and for once Chloe Bishop is short on lies.

“Here you are.” Gage lands his arm over my chest, grazing my nipples in the process, and a deep, guttural groan evicts from me.

Chloe’s cheeks pinch with color as if it were her own nipples getting a little Oliver action. “I’d love to carry on a conversation with you, Skyla, but it looks as if you’ll be busy for the rest of the night.” She bites the air with the innuendo. “We’ll solve the mystery of the stolen bling another time.” She flicks her middle finger in the air as she carts Brody off. “Have enough fun for the both of us, would you?” She gives a sly wink, and just like that, the ring goes dark as if Chloe’s ridiculous eyeball malfunction had the power to kill it like a light switch.

Gage presses his crotch into my back, and I feel him there, that hardness, that thick line of wanting impressing into my flesh.

“Now,” he whispers hot into my ear, and my eyes close. The room spins beneath me, and when I open my lids, I find we’re no longer in the loud, raucous bowling alley surrounded by big hair and leg warmers, but in the sanctity of our own bedroom.

“Impressive.” I twist into him, and those daring eyes of his latch onto mine with this newfound bravado he’s pumped full of.

The door slams and locks, and the dresser presses violently over the entrance as if on its own volition.

“I see you’re going old school.” My heart thumps hard because Gage Oliver is a show of force tonight. I knew his Fem standing afforded him a few powers here and there, but God Almighty, things have changed since we’ve been apart.

Music strums softly from some mysterious locale, the lights dim low, and the comforter whips violently from the bed.

“Wow.” I bite down on the smile begging to break through. “That escalated quickly.”

“Maybe so”—he caresses my cheek with the back of his hand, and my face begs to burrow against him—“but the rest of the events that unfold this evening will take place naturally, aggressively—over and over again.”

A tiny whimper gets locked in my throat.

Here he is. Gage Oliver is back in my life after an absence of my own making. Do I want this? Maybe. Do I need this? Hell yes. Okay, so I may want this, too.

I pull his arms off my waist and take a full step back, our eyes still leashed together.

“Gage.” I drop to my knees and bow my head ever so slightly. “Let me be the first to worship at your feet.” I look up and meet with that face I’ve idolized as far back as that fated summer I landed on this island. It’s true. I have always been his very first subject. Whether or not I want to accept it, Gage Oliver is royalty, my rival, my equal, my friend, and my lover. “You are the king.”

And tonight, I am most definitely here to serve.