“Twenty-fucking-one.” I flip the cards over and slide the entire deck toward Coop. “I’m out.”

Cooper Flanders has been holed up here, in the monstrosity of a home my father gifted me, down in the Transfer for the last solid week. It’s been a shit ride in and out of every minute because, no matter how hard we try, we cannot break into that damn fucking science project the government has cooking over on Raven’s Eye. They have that building nailed shut and sealed from potential interlopers. You need more than a code to get past the domino string of guards lining the periphery.

Fucking code. I don’t need a code. I can teleport—however, blinking into existence, on camera no less, makes me think twice. But I have an idea. I have plans. And none of the above include Coop.

I glance over at the enormous spinning ball of granite that sits in a well, spanning at least four feet in all directions. It was a housewarming gift from my fleabag of a father, Tears Over Creation, Tears Over Paragon, take your pick. Right about now, I wish I could drown him in it for all the help he’s been.

Coop stands and heads over to the fireplace, tossing in log after log, says he likes the light. And as much as I hate to admit it, having Coop around brightens this dismal place up, and it has nothing to do with the fire. I’ve always felt deep down that Cooper was an upstanding guy. I knew that was true back at school—during that questionable time we spent together at the Ephemeral Academy. Cooper was my right-hand man, disposing of those nasty Spectators that had a propensity to wander into town a time or two. But that was before my father took the blinders off my eyes, and now I see Coop for what he is—the enemy. He also happens to be the bastard that snaked the love of my life right from underneath me. And that right there is what has us working as a unified front at the moment. Laken Stewart—Flanders. His wife.

“We’ll try again in an hour,” Coop says as if reading my mind, but he’s not. Laken has been our singular concern during our weeklong confinement. “Was that Tad Landon we saw getting reamed by an officer for pissing in the woods?” He shakes his head. “He was in a uniform.”

Cooper and I have made forty-two attempts to permeate the grounds in an effort to make our way to Laken. Forty-two ill attempts, unfruitful efforts to rescue the woman we both profess to love. I always swore I’d move heaven and earth to make sure Laken was safe, and now all I can seem to do is teleport Coop and myself to the island they’re holding her captive on as if I were a fucking tourist. I may be able to teleport, but I am not invisible. I’ve thought of disguising myself, ski mask, gloves, the whole nine yards—which I have with me at the ready—but the feds would know Laken has someone working on her behalf. No. This needs immaculate execution. The only way to pull this off is to walk right through the front door with Kresley—and for Cooper Flanders to do the deed himself. Once they spot him on the grid, and they will, they’ll want him, too. I won’t put up a fight. He might, but it’ll be fruitless. But Coop isn’t up for my reindeer games. He’s smart as fuck, and that’s what landed Laken in his arms to begin with.

I slam my fist over the table, and the pieces to the chess game that kept Coop and me occupied during these sleepless nights dislodge and fall over.

“Dude”—he strides over and rights them—“I’m about to give you one serious ass kicking. I know you’re a sore loser, but try not to take it out on the game.”

Coop is right. I have always been a sore loser. Laken was taken captive the same night that my brother died. The irony hasn’t left me. Yes, in every way I regard Gage Oliver as my full-blooded brother, even though he’s technically less than that. Someone or something—most likely at the bidding of my father, sliced his head off for kicks during his birthday party—correction, the birthday party my father was throwing for my nephews. Gage’s birthday was simply a detail—the same way Gage and I have been simply details to my father for so long.

Damn Demetri. I’ve tried to call him. I begged him by text, by voicemail to help me get Laken the hell off Raven’s Eye but was met with dead silence. I’m guessing he has bigger fish to fry, namely getting my brother’s useless ghost back in a body and on that coveted throne of his. Right about now, I’d sell my soul, sell the Steel Barricade itself, which I love a little more than my soul, to anyone who could get Laken off that demonic rock she’s imprisoned on.

“Tad Landon.” I perk up at the thought. “Isn’t that Skyla’s imbecile?”

“If by Skyla’s imbecile, you mean stepfather then, yes, you’d be right. It’s time you realize that we should have dragged Skyla into this seven damn days ago.”

“I didn’t drag Skyla into this because she was grieving!” I riot out the lie so loud even I believe it.

“So am I!” he thunders right back, and I stagger to my feet and pour us both a drink. Scotch for me. Coop prefers vodka straight apparently. “You know why I can’t bring Skyla into this. Skyla would be remiss to involve Kresley—and that’s exactly what needs to happen.” Kres is still happily chirping around as if she were the lady of the manor. Taking care of October as if she were her own. And, of course, my sweet Tobie has taken to her. Tobie craves a mother the way vampires crave blood—or Counts as it were—the way I once craved Celestra’s cherry red fluids. I haven’t had a drop in years. Haven’t needed it since my father did the big paternal reveal, but my powers are nothing when it comes to putting Laken back in my arms where she belongs. Hell, I’d put her back in Coop’s arms, his bed, if it meant she were out of harm’s way. But I’d never say it out loud. I’d never allow myself to have the thought twice.

“Skyla has a conscience, unlike you,” Coop is quick to inform me of yet another personality malfeasance. Who knew having Coop around for a solid fucking week would be an unwanted way to humble my weary soul? “And yes, she would very much be opposed to tossing Kresley into the fire as if she were kindling.” He steps over, dirty blond hair, those serious grieving eyes red with rage, and knocks back the shot I set out for him in one big gulp. He takes a breath from between his teeth and hisses as it goes down with a burn.

“Did I hear someone call my name?”

We turn to find Skyla and Logan staining the entry. Logan looks freakishly like Coop. I’ve always thought so, and Skyla looks like her usual unpersonable self. At least around me she is. Damn unpersonable. Skyla and I met years ago in the Tenebrous Woods. It was her celestially endowed blood that boosted my powers—bolstered them to boundaries unknown. For that alone, I’ll forever be grateful. But, as it stands, she is the enemy. She alone holds the spiritual hedge that binds the Fems beneath the Sectors. And she alone needs to be removed for the Fems—my people, my brother’s people to prosper. I frown as I look to her. As stunning as she is, she also happens to be Laken’s best friend.

“Where the hell is she?” Skyla grips my shoulders and shakes me as if I were holding Laken hostage myself.

“Raven’s Eye,” Coop offers. “We’re trying our best to break in. It’s fucking Fort Knox.”

Logan pinches his eyes shut. “Dude, we’ve got the code. We’ve stormed it before.”

“They changed it,” I say, shaking my head at the lack of brain cells that just invaded. The collective IQ of the room went down as soon as he and Skyla barged in here.

Okay, so it may not be true, but I’m too pissed to be nice. Having Laken locked up somewhere to be used like a toy makes me a very nasty person to be around. Nastier than usual.

Skyla nods. “They’ve tightened the hell out of security.”

I head to the fireplace and pick up a four-foot plank Coop retrieved from out back. “They hired your stepfather. They didn’t tighten shit. If anything, they’ve downgraded.” Without offering so much as a grimace, I whack the board across Cooper’s temple, sending him to the floor in a heap.

“Shit!” Logan thunders as both he and Skyla drop to their knees to tend to him. “What the hell was that for?”

“Because Coop doesn’t really want to save Laken, and I do.” I point to Logan. “You’re watching Tobie for me.” I snatch Skyla by the arm and teleport us to the nursery where a startled Kresley looks to the two of us.

“Geez! Can you never do that again?” Kres clutches at her chest, her face and hair so closely resemble Laken, the untrained eye would think they were one and the same. But I know the difference. It’s night and day, and as far as I see it, it’s time to trade night for that beautiful day I miss so damn much. “What’s she doing here?” she sneers at Skyla.

“No time for that. We’re going on a little road trip,” I say, heading to my precious daughter. Tobie—October Edinger is the product of my tumultuous marriage to that witch, Chloe Bishop. That marriage has ended for all practical purposes and so has Chloe’s desire to be a mother. Not that she ever had it. Chloe is too vain to care about anyone outside of herself—with the exception of my brother. Chloe’s obsession with Gage is rivaled by my own obsession with Laken.

“Daddy!” My baby girl bounces in her crib, an ear-to-ear grin taking over her pretty little face, and my heart melts.

“Give me a kiss.” I press one against her cheek, and she blesses me with a wet one. “Uncle Logan will be here shortly. Take a nap.” I press another kiss to her dark hair. “I love you, princess.”

“I love you, too.” Skyla dives in to pick her up, and I block her. It’s true. Skyla does care immensely for Tobie, and it warms the hell out of my brittle heart to know this. I just don’t think it’s the best idea for Tobie to get too attached to her.

“We don’t have time for that.” I keep my arm wrapped tight around Skyla’s waist and snatch Kresley in the same manner as the room begins to dissipate. I’m bringing Laken home tonight, and I sure as hell don’t need Cooper Flanders to do it.

It was Skyla I needed all along.

The woods adjacent to the compound form around us, tall and skeletal as they stretch like charred shadows long into the night. The mist floats around us like an army of ghosts, and the scent of fresh pine and wet earth permeates the air.

“Where are we?” Kresley shouts as she struggles to break free, and I quickly let go of Skyla so I can properly muzzle and bind her. My hand quickly claps over her mouth, silencing her abruptly. Kresley looks up at me, her eyes bugged out, the look of curiosity quickly morphing to something darker as if she just realized she had been dancing in an incinerator while I entertained her in my bed. It was never for love that I did it. It was for trust. Sometimes you need to sacrifice a little bit of who you really are for the greater good of others, and in this case it was for Laken. I never demanded that Kresley have her features altered. I threw it out there like a joke, and then Kresley herself suggested it one day out of the blue as if it were her own idea. Of course, I ran like hell with it, flying that idea high like a kite on the beach. It was brilliant. And yes, I may have manipulated Kres into it, but I never held a gun to her head. Kres meant for it to quell my broken heart—a beautiful gesture no doubt. But I meant it for something far more practical, putting her in Laken’s place should the need ever arise and, sure as shit, it arrived like a thief in the night.

“Skyla.” I nod toward the entry with its impeccable security system. “I’m headed in with her. You stay out here.”

“Why am I here?” She gives my arm a hard yank, fury emanating from her like a heat wave.

I give a quick glance around the area, nothing but evergreens or so it would seem. “Because if I’m trapped in that hellhole, your mother will be forced to get you off this island, and I’m hoping you’ll at least take Laken with you.”

The whites of her eyes shine in the night, and she gives a slight nod as if acknowledging all I said was true. “They’ll see you, Wes. You need to cut the circuits somehow. Kill the lights and the security cameras. I’m sure they have a generator. You’ll need to kill that, too.” She shakes her head. “God, I think Brody cut the wires last time. Or Ellis. Who the hell can remember?”

“Shit,” I pant into the forest, creating a plume of smoke from my nostrils that might as well be a bull’s-eye. “Where’s the circuit board? Do you know?”

She shakes her head. “Most likely on the inside of those barbed wire lined fences. I’m sorry. You just can’t materialize in those halls. It’s suicide to try.”

“Fuck it.” I pluck the ski mask from my jeans—one I’ve kept close for the last solid week and whip it on, one handed. “I’m going in. Stay in this exact position or you’ll lose your ride home.”

“Wait!” Skyla grips onto Kresley’s hand. “Do you know what you’re getting into?”

Kresley shakes her head frenetically, the look of panic rife on her face.

“Shit, Wes.” Skyla’s voice drips with both disappointment and judgment, but right about now, I couldn’t care less if she were the judge and jury herself.

Kresley struggles, and I wrap my arm around her so tight I might as well have sliced her in half. But I need my other hand free for far more important things. I reach back into my jeans and pull out my trusty Ruger. If need be, I’ll blast my way out of here in a hail of gunfire. I close my eyes and do my best to envision that dungeon they’ve got Laken locked up in, and the world around us begins to melt away.

“Kresley!” Skyla’s voice dissipates, along with the landscape. “I’ll come back for you! I won’t leave you here to rot. You have my word!”

For the life of me, I can’t imagine where to land, so I do my best to envision a desolate hallway, some place dark—a broom closet would be perfect. I try my hardest to think only of Laken—praying to God that will land me in the vicinity. The nature of teleportation by and large is shooting in the dark, but most of the time you have a vague idea of where the hell you’re going. This compound is mammoth in size. Just because I’ve penetrated its well-guarded walls doesn’t mean I’ll find Laken anytime soon.

Darkness overrides my senses, and I feel the floor beneath me, assuring me that indeed we’ve landed. Kresley struggles before slumping against me as if she realizes the effort is fruitless. I reach around until my hand hits a door, and I carefully open it, exposing a well-lit hallway, bright white, not a soul in sight. The ceiling is lined with cameras in every direction. Odds are, I have less than a few seconds before I have a chance to pump someone’s forehead with a bullet.

My God, I have not asked for much, but I ask for divine protection and expedited measures to find the love of my life.

I duck out with Kres hanging off my side like an appendage and spot a series of rooms—glass cages, each housing a number of Spectators. The tall, burly, rotted out walking corpses look drugged, far too docile from their natural state, and a part of me finds this alarming. The Spectators are impervious to normal means of neurological subjugation. You need to stun the ever-living shit out of them significantly to get them to behave like a doped-up teen. Another hall appears and I follow it down, same story, the Spectators—the Videns in effect who pledged allegiance to the Barricade fill these ghastly halls. Yes, it was me who got them to agree to reduce themselves to cinder in the name of sparing their families. But the truth is, their noble work isn’t for nothing. They are my best distractions. The smoke and mirrors I need to buy time as I polish up the formula to hide the markers. I’ve got the markers all but hidden—those genetic giveaways that distinguish our people from the rest of humanity—and I’m a hair away from developing a system that allows the government to discover the enemy while keeping the Barricade’s gene pool safe. And I will honor those lives that were lost as a sacrifice on behalf of the cause. I swear on all that is holy, I will do right by these pathetic looking creatures staggering to the window as if pleading for my help. My heart spikes with remorse so deep and wide it forces me to take a deep breath, increase my hold over Kresley’s mouth to dampen her whimpers, and press on. A blue light glows from a window at the end of the hall, and I speed over. Anything out of the ordinary might be a help at this point. Or a hindrance. That’s the disadvantage of shooting in the dark.

“Hey, you!” a voice barks from behind, and without thinking I turn and snipe the living shit out of the poor guy. Direct shot right between the eyes.

“Fuck,” I hiss as I bolt for the room at the end with its glowing window. “Holy hell,” I whisper. There she is. Laken Stewart—my Laken, asleep on a white bed with her hair splayed over her pillow. Her hair is so long it spills right over the edge in a beautiful waterfall of gold. I teleport the two of us inside, and the air in the room holds the scent of fresh cut roses, the temperature a touch warmer than it is outside these walls. I drop Kresley like a log and scoop Laken into my arms, only to find her hooked to a thousand different probes. Wires stream from the back of her head, her temples and, holy shit, they are directly embedded into her flesh. I pluck them loose indiscriminately, and she moans in pain, her eyes struggling to rouse from my violent efforts.

“What the hell is wrong with her?” Kres hugs herself, keeping a safe distance from me—something she should have thought to do a long time ago.

“She’ll be fine.” I pull the last of the nefarious strings off her body, sending spurts of blood over her—over me. “And so will you. I will be here shortly to pick you up.” My voice shakes as I look directly at her. “But only if you let them believe that you are Laken.”

Kresley’s mouth opens wide in horror, and in truth, she might have screamed, loud, and shrill, but that dark cave of hers disintegrated right along with the rest of this nightmare as Laken and I reappear in the woods.

“Is it really her?” Skyla bucks with a cry as she latches her body around Laken’s.

I pull her in close and whisper, “It is. Laken is safe, and she’s on her way home.” And I’m damn relieved. Even if it is Coop’s home she’ll be headed to in a few short minutes.

The Transfer appears in jags as we land soft-footed in the living room. The enormous fireplace rages with its brilliant flames as if the blaze itself were welcoming Laken back to safety—back into my arms.

“Laken.” Skyla is relentless with her fevered embrace. “It’s really you.”

Laken’s beautiful denim eyes I’ve missed so much cut to mine, and I can feel her gratitude toward me. My entire body warms at the thought of Laken feeling something other than hate for me.

“My God”—Skyla pulls back, and her face fills with horror—“you’re bleeding.” Her hand brushes over Laken’s forehead and, sure enough, there’s a smidge of fresh blood.

“I freed her in haste.” I pull one of Tobie’s blankets off the sofa and pat the stains off her flesh.

Footsteps thunder in this direction. “Laken!” Cooper’s voice roars as he runs in from the foyer along with his lookalike. And without meaning to, I frown at both Logan and Coop. I can’t help it. Laken and I shared a moment, and everything in me ached for just one more of those. I get it, though. She chose Coop all those years ago. He won. As much as I hate to admit it, he did just that.

“God.” His arms collapse over her so fast and hard, he sweeps her off her feet, and they engage in a bizarre dance as he lays a passionate kiss to her lips. Normally, I’d push his ass right into the fire, but tonight, after who knows what hell she’s gone through, I’ll give him a pass. “Laken,” he bleats as he buries his face in her hair, his body still intensely poised over hers, gripping her by the arms as if he’s afraid she’ll float right back to Raven’s Eye. “My God, are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

Her hands rise to his chest, and from this vantage point it looks as if she’s doing her best to move him the hell off of her. “They didn’t hurt me—but you are.” Her features harden, and something in my gut tightens. The room seems to still as Coop lifts his arms before embracing her once again, this time gingerly.

“I’m sorry, babe.” He dots her face with a row of tender kisses, and my stomach grinds witnessing the event. I’m over the show. Laken is safe. They’re free to go now—or more to the point, Coop is.

“Babe?” She frees herself from his embrace. “You’re awfully friendly.” She gives a nervous laugh before heading back my way. And before I realize what’s happening, Laken has her arms lassoed around my waist, her mouth rises to meet mine, and her lips linger there far longer than some simple thank you might require.

“Laken?” Coop’s voice rises above the crackle from the fireplace.

“Okay”—Skyla gives a cheery mock-cry—“I get it. You’re thankful. But Cooper spearheaded the whole operation. And really it was me he was waiting for.” She does her best to separate us, but Laken won’t budge.

“Wait a minute.” Logan comes over and looks into Laken’s eyes as if he were a doctor. “Laken, do you know who we are?”

Laken glances my way—her mouth falls open, and she gives a circular nod. “I know, Wes. I mean, I don’t understand how we got here.” She looks around at the medieval environment. “Heck, I don’t even know where this is. All I know is I want to get back to Cider Plains. Back to my own bed—to my family.” Her grip tightens around my waist, and for the first time I’m petrified at what her embrace might mean.

“Laken”—Coop steps in, pleading with his voice, his features twisted in agony—“Cider Plains was a very long time ago for you. Do you remember me at all?” He takes up her hand, and she retracts slowly as if not to offend him before offering a simple shake of the head.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice grows small. “My head hurts a bit.” She touches her temple, and I help guide her to the sofa, propping up two pillows behind her back. Skyla runs over with ice water from the bar, and she takes a sip. “Wes”—Laken looks to me with those large watery eyes—“do you know these people?”

My heart sinks. It screams say fuck no and kick them all out. But that tension builds in my gut again. If anything, Laken would want me to tell the truth. I’d lie to just about everyone, but I could never do that to Laken—my Laken.

“Yes.” My heart sinks. “And you do, too.” I swallow hard as I fall next to her on the sofa. Coop takes a seat across from us on the coffee table, his fingers still straining to reach for hers. “That’s Logan”—I figure I’ll start easy—“he’s Skyla’s ex-husband. He’s a friend. And that’s Skyla.”

“I’m your best friend.” Skyla falls to her knees before Laken as if she were ready to worship. If I had my way, the entire world would worship Laken, venerate her beauty from near and afar. Laken was born a goddess. She’s a hell of a lot kinder and wiser than Skyla, that’s for sure.

“My best friend?” Laken laughs with an open-mouthed smile as if the idea were adorable. “Are you new in Cider Plains? I can’t quite remember where we met.”

“No.” Skyla shakes her head as her frustration builds. “You’ve been on Paragon Island for years, Laken. You came there right after Ephemeral. Right after—” She looks to Coop, and I hold a hand up.

“Laken.” I take her hand and kiss the back. “This guy right here?” I nod over to Coop who looks as if he’s about to jump through the ceiling with his newfound misery. “This is your husband, Cooper Flanders. You met at Ephemeral. It’s a boarding school the three of us went to for the latter part of high school. You fell in love, and you married Cooper. He is your husband.” That last part comes out inaudible as Coop looks to me and nods a silent thank you.

There. I did it. I spilled the truth at Laken’s feet as easy as moving a boulder. I sure hope to hell both Coop and Skyla took notes because I’m not repeating the event.

Laken leans back hard as if a violent wind just knocked her over. “My what?” Her voice rises, shrill and pissed. “No way, no way.” She pushes into me with her shoulder as if she can’t get far enough away from him. As if she needs and wants me to protect her from him. “I’m not anybody’s wife,” she snipes at Coop before looking to Skyla. “And I’m sorry, but Wesley has filled those best friend shoes as far back as I can remember.”

Logan huffs, “That seems to be the problem. You’re not remembering.”

“What are you saying?” She touches her temple as if she were in pain. “Wes, please tell me this is a cruel hoax that you and Fletch are playing on me. And if it is, I’m going to give you both hell because I’m beyond exhausted. This all feels like some bad dream.”

“You’re telling me,” Skyla is quick to concur. “Listen, Laken, Cooper Flanders is the love of your life. You despise Wesley. You cannot stand him. He’s selling out the Nephilim. He’s out to destroy our people.”

“The what?” She shakes her head in disbelief before looking up at me. “What is she babbling about? What’s this our people business? Wes, I’m crying uncle. Get Fletch and let’s get out of here. My mother is going to kill me. And God knows Lacey needs me to help with her homework. I’m covered in blood and”—she winces hard as if speared with pain—“where was I just now? What’s happened, Wes? It’s as if all memory of yesterday, of the last few hours, has dissolved out of my grasp. I must have really hit my head hard.”

There have been times in my life that I’ve been thrown a curveball. Hell, I’ve been thrown an entire hurricane a time or two, but this makes everything else look like a cake walk.

“Laken.” I swallow hard because not a single part of me wants to agree with anything that Skyla said. “I have a friend. She’s like a doctor. The best of the best. Her name is Ezrina. I’m going to have her take a look at you.”

“Great idea.” Coop doesn’t waste a moment, texting while singing my praises. “Get her here quick. Or better yet, let’s get Laken to her own bed. I think we’ve all had enough of the haunted mansion for one night.”

“What?” Laken leashes her arms around me once again. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not letting some girl who thinks she’s a doctor poke and prod me. Wes, this isn’t a joke, is it?”

I shake my head as the moment grows solemn. The confusion in her eyes quickly morphs to fear. “But I’m here with you, Laken, and I promise that I will never put you in harm’s way.”

“Ha!” Skyla harps, and I can’t help but think she’s digging her own grave. Clearly Laken isn’t falling for that best friend routine, even if it happens to be true. “Tell her everything, Wes. I dare you to tell her the truth about yourself!”

Laken looks to me and shakes her head as if telling me not to. “I love you, Wes. I don’t know who these people are, but I’m starting to think we’re both in danger.”

“One of you is,” Logan quips, and Laken looks puzzled as hell as she takes in the three of them.

Cooper flashes his phone my way. “Ezrina said she’ll be here in the morning. Something about the baby having a fever. She sends her apologies.” He leans in toward Laken, his features softening to the point of tears. “Laken, you are twenty-four years old. We have been married for one blissful year. I have the marriage certificate and wedding photos to prove it.” His voice breaks as he presses his lips together a moment just trying to hold it in. “But if you feel safe here with Wes, then this is where we’ll stay until Ezrina can come and hopefully repair whatever the hell they did to you.” A tear slips down his face as he picks up her hand, and this time she doesn’t pull back.

“I’m so sorry.” Her finger glides to his face and gently dries his cheek. “You seem very, very nice. All of you, actually. But I honestly have no memory of any of you. And if it’s true”—she looks to me—“I’m twenty-four?” I nod, affirming the fact. “Oh my God—I’ve just lost the last eight years of my life.” Her lips quiver. “Do you still love me, Wes?”

“Yes”—my eyes grow large at the audacity of the question—“God, yes.” I pull her in tight and land a heated kiss over the top of her head. “You still own my heart, Laken. I promise it’s just you.”

Skyla groans as if she might be sick. “I bet your wife would like to hear those words once in a while.”

I glower over at her because everyone in this room knows that it isn’t true. In fact, those are the very last words Chloe would ever want to hear. She’s not into saccharine sentiments. She’s more of a cut-you-with-her-words and mop-up-the-blood-never type.

“Wesley’s wife?” Laken leans into Skyla, disbelieving. It’s apparent this is all too much for her to take in at once. She looks to me. “Do you have a wife?” she whispers that last word as if she couldn’t bring herself to say it, and my silence speaks volumes.

“It’s not what you think.” I steal a moment to secure my arm around her waist. “We’re not in love. We never were.”

Skyla balks, “That might be true, Laken, but they’ve got a baby, and I’m sure if you hang around here one more minute, it will be you taking care of her. Chloe hasn’t exactly stepped up in the mothering department, and Wes is more of an imprison a nanny type. Believe me when I say this, neither of them is winning an award for parent of the year.”

Laken’s mouth falls open, and every last part of me demands to seal my lips over hers.

Coop clears his throat and glares at me as if he could hear me. “I’ll stay the night. There’s no way I’m leaving her here with you.”

Laken touches her chest, a short-lived laugh bubbling from her. “You say this like I need protection from him.”

“You do,” the three of them answer in unison.

“I don’t,” she barks right back, and the only sound you hear is the fire crackling and snapping as if it were applauding her. I sure as hell am.

“I won’t hurt you, Laken. I’m still me, I promise. They don’t believe it because they never really understood me the way you do.”

Her pale blue eyes bear hard into mine. “I know what you’re saying is true. And if it is true that I was married to this man”—she flicks a finger in Coop’s direction, not even giving him the pleasure of a glance—“then I can’t blame you for marrying someone else, yourself. And your baby”—she looks down and catches her breath as if what came next was difficult—“I want to meet her. I love her already because she’s a part of you.”

“Laken”—Skyla shakes her head—“please don’t do anything rash,” she whispers tenderly as if talking her off a ledge. “Whatever you do, please don’t get physical with Wes in any way. You truly love Cooper. He is the love of your life. You told me so yourself.”

Laken’s lips part again. “And you think I’m confused because I hit my head? I mean, I get it. Obviously, if Wes says I’ve forgotten things, then I have.” Her voice grows sharp. “But I’ll tell you all right now that I love Wesley Parker.” She shakes her head at Coop, and the poor guy drops another tear, his features set in anger. Skyla spears me with a look. If Laken still thinks I’m Wesley Parker, a surname I lost affiliation with before my own death and resurrection by way of the Counts, then, yes, she is still very much emotionally stuck in Cider Plains, the Kansas town we grew up in.

“I’m sorry”—Laken continues—“but he’s the only one for me. He’s the only one who’ll ever be for me. I must have hit my head or suffered some kind of a trauma long ago because I would never voluntarily leave Wes.” She looks to me. The back of her fingers carefully caressing my cheek. “You know that, right? I love you. I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you. That I’ve done this to us.”

I don’t dare crack a smile or turn my head to see what the peanut gallery has to say. Instead, I glance to Coop who bows his head in defeat.

“All right.” I pull Laken in and land a trembling kiss to her forehead. “I’ll have Skyla help you into one of the guest rooms and get you settled for the night. I can lend you some of Chloe’s things so you’ll be comfortable.”

“No,” she snaps so loud I can hear Tobie wail in the background on cue. “Skyla isn’t taking me anywhere. In fact, all of you need to go so I can clear my head. I’m staying with Wes.” She gives Coop a sharp stare. “You are not welcome to babysit me. I’m not going to run away. I’ll be right here come morning.”

Tobie’s cries increase, and Skyla gets up. “It’s not you we’re worried about.” She pauses on her way out of the room. “We just don’t want you doing anything you’ll regret.”

Logan and Coop rise at the same time, and Logan pats me on the back while nodding toward the entry. I watch from a distance as Cooper offers Laken a quiet smile, no words. Laken offers up a simple shrug, her mouth opening and closing silently like a marionette.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry if I’ve led you on. I don’t think I was in my right mind.”

Logan leans in. “And she thinks she is now. That’s the terrifying part.” His hand lands over my shoulder. “How are you doing, man?”

I startle for a moment before turning to him. “As if you care?”

“I do care. You’re Gage’s brother. His family is my family. I know he’d be concerned about you—and so am I. This has got to be a shit ride for your ego because on one hand she says she wants you, and on the other you know it’s a lie. You can’t take advantage of her. Once she clears up, she’ll really hate you if you do.” He slaps me over the shoulder again as Skyla comes out with my precious baby girl, her dark curls already down to her shoulders, those serious eyes lighting up with delight at the sight of me. She turned one in October, her namesake month, the month of her birth. Tobie was born on Halloween night in the woods by a true witch named Chloe Bishop. But Tobie is an angel, through and through.

“Come here, baby girl.” I pull her in and bury a kiss over the top of her head. Her small arms grip me with such a ferocity it makes me wonder if she’s had a bad dream. The only other time she holds onto me this way is when Chloe is in the room. I look to Skyla who lovingly pets Tobie’s curls and ask a question I’m not entirely sure I want the answer to. “Where’s Chloe?”

“I’m not her keeper.” She darts a quiet glance to Logan, and it’s evident she knows something. “I may have beaten her to a bloody pulp and left her for dead in Demetri’s basement.” She touches her hand to her face, and I note a series of lines cresting down her left cheek. Her arms look as if she were ravaged by a wolverine—a wolverine I’m still technically married to. “You’ll see the damage. My mother has gifted us the ability to keep our scars.” She blinks back tears. “I don’t see why not. Gage is the biggest scar, and I wear him right over my broken heart.” She looks to me with heavy eyes as if just the sight of me pained her, and I’m sure it does the same way looking at Kresley pained me. “Behave yourself. Text me once Ezrina is here. I want to know everything.”

Coop and Laken stride over, looking like a united front, and my stomach drops at the thought of the spell the feds inadvertently cast over Laken breaking so quickly. A greedy part of me was hoping it would last forever. Deep down, I know that’s not right, not what Laken would have wanted by a long shot, but I can’t help it. My flesh has always been weak when it comes to this girl.

“Oh my God.” Laken’s hands cover her mouth, her eyes watering with tears of what look like joy. “Is this her? Your baby girl?” She wraps a finger around one of Tobie’s curls and Tobie lunges for her, practically jumping into Laken’s arms and everyone gives a little laugh.

“This is Tobie,” I say carefully, making the handoff. “She turned one on Halloween, thus October Edinger. Skyla helped name her.”

“Skyla named her? I thought you said someone named Chloe was her mother?” Laken rocks and coos into Tobie’s smiling face.

Skyla scoffs. “Like I said, Chloe is persona non grata.”

Logan wraps an arm around Skyla’s shoulder. “Chloe is missing the mothering gene and every other gene that has to do with human decency.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Laken blesses Tobie’s cheek with a kiss. “My God, Wes, she’s so precious. I’m in love already.”

Tobie kicks and giggles as if she agreed.

“And on that note,” I say, tickling Tobie’s side. “I need to feed her and get her to bed. It’s late.”

Skyla and Logan each give Laken an apprehensive embrace.

“Do not do anything,” Skyla reprimands. “Ezrina will be here in the morning.”

She and Logan take off, and it’s just a standoff between Laken and Coop. God, I never thought I’d say this, but I truly feel sorry for the guy.

“Laken, I can’t leave.” Coop’s voice comes out hoarse. “You have to understand. I will never forgive myself if I leave you here with him.” He looks to me for less than a second. “You wouldn’t want me to go.”

Laken takes a breath and links her arm in his, the baby still nestled on her hip as if she’s been holding Tobie forever. “Well, you are leaving.” She walks him right to the door. “I promise I’m more than fine. I’ll see you in the morning, I’m sure.” She lands him on the porch and glares at the massive wooden doors that I’m prone to never shut. I’m betting right about now she wishes she could slam at least one of those massive wooden and iron sculptures in his face.

“All right. Have it your way.” Coop grips the back of his neck and takes off into the deep navy night.

“Finally,” Laken whispers as we get back to the living room. Laken asks me every question under the sun as she helps me feed and dress Tobie for bed, and I answer to the best of my ability—truthful each and every time.

“So Mom and Lacey are really okay?”

“Jen and Fletcher, too,” I promise her. Laken’s family has always felt like my own. And after our split, it was as if I was dead to them. How quickly their loyalty shifted to Cooper. And to think I once considered Fletch like my own brother. Yes, losing Laken was a hard lesson in many respects.

We put Tobie to bed, and shockingly, she falls peacefully to sleep. I lead Laken to the guest room nearest mine.

“You’ll sleep here.”

Those impossibly long lashes blink up at me. “Is this your room?”

I give a simple shake of the head because I’m afraid of where this might be heading.

“Then I’m not sleeping here.” Her skin is creamy smooth, her eyes backlit, those ruby lips tie themselves in a bow as she holds back a smile.

I lead her down the hall, run a bath for her, bring out the best towels, the softest robe, and sit in bed while she gets comfortable. It’s hard to believe I have Laken back—my Laken, here in my home, within striking distance of my bed, and it makes me sick to think if she was in her right mind there would be no way she’d want to be anywhere near me.

A solid hour later, she emerges with the robe wrapped tight around her. Laken’s hair glistens in long golden waves. How I used to love getting lost in that downy mane.

She crawls onto the bed beside me.

“Laken.” My own voice drips with disappointment, like a betrayal.

“Don’t you Laken me.” She warms her body against mine like a kitten curling up at my side. Her arms wrap tight around me. “You said the government kidnapped me, Wes. I’m terrified. You said we’re beasts with powers. I have a best friend I’ve never seen before and a husband—my God, I can’t even imagine what I was thinking. I can’t help but want to be near you. Please don’t let those people back in tomorrow. I can’t take another minute of their sullen faces. I need some time alone”—her fingers graze my cheeks—“with you.”

Her mouth rises to meet mine, and everything in me screams run—it screams stay all at the very same time. Her lips brush over mine, and I die a slow death on the inside. This, right here, is everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I’ll ever need.

“Wesley.” Her cool fingers glide up my shirt, and I groan without meaning to.

To have Laken’s skin against mine in such an intimate way feels as if the universe has somehow righted itself. Yes, I’ve had Laken before under false pretenses, but this feels far more personal, far more of a gift than that ever could.

“Make love to me the way you did last night.” She shakes her head as if blinking away the discrepancy. “I’m sorry—the way you did that night at the lake. It’s the last memory I have.” She curves her finger under my chin, her powder blue eyes bearing into mine. “And I’m glad about it, too.”

Last memory she has? Holy crap. A dull sigh expels from me. Laken and I never made love by the lake, not really. But as of late, I’ve made a few jaunts back in time and rewritten history in a manner that better suited my needs—my need for Laken’s soft body pressed to mine to be exact. I needed to be with her, to be in her to feel complete. It was a desperate move, considering the fact that Laken and I hadn’t slept together at all while we were growing up in Cider Plains. Nope. It was nothing but pure sexual greed on my part. Nevertheless, Laken began perceiving it as a memory, a real one, and Coop got wise to my night moves. He’s taken it to the Justice Alliance, and if they find me guilty of a single malfeasance, I am ironically truly fucked. The last thing I need or want is a disturbance on any angelic front. I’m this close to permanently covering the markers of my people. I’d hate to think I bit myself in the ass by way of some sophomoric blunder.

“Laken.” I pull back and grimace. “I love you. I never stopped. I need you to know that.”

She makes a face while gently scratching the scruff on my cheek, and my balls ache to have her. “Why do I feel a but coming on?”

“Because you’re married.”

“So are you.” She shakes her head as if it doesn’t make a darn of a difference. “They’re fake marriages, Wes. You said so yourself. I’ll search out a top-notch divorce lawyer in the morning. You can help me.”

“No, no, no,” A dark laugh strums from me. “Coop would love that.” I give a wistful shake of the head. “No can do. You do love him. I promise you that. As for me and Chloe, well, that’s another matter.”

“You did it for the baby?” She gives a partial shrug as if trying to help me along with a valid excuse.

“I did it exactly for the baby. I love Tobie. I wanted to give her a proper mother and missed by a horrible mile. Chloe hates her daughter as much as she hates me.”

Laken shakes her head as if contesting the idea. “No mother hates her child, Wes. That’s a little harsh.”

“You haven’t met Chloe. Hate is her middle name.” The air grows still. The scent of Laken’s sweet skin intoxicates me as if it were an exotic spice. Laken has always held the scent of fresh lemons and sea spray. She’s always had the power to transport me to some distant place, a better place.

“I don’t care about any of those things or people.” Her hands wrap around my back as she gives a gentle rub. “All I care about is you and me, Wes. I don’t need anyone else in this life. I just need you to breathe.” Tears glitter in her eyes as she pulls off my shirt and blesses a cool kiss just below my neck.

“Laken, you don’t really want to do this.”

“But you’re not really going to stop me, are you?” She glances up with a wicked gleam in her eye. “And if you were—all of the power you profess to have wouldn’t be enough to do it.” Laken licks a line straight to my belly before swimming back up and diving over me with a kiss to top every lip-lock we have ever shared. Her mouth over mine, her tongue devouring me as if I were her favorite meal.

Once upon a time Laken wanted me. She lusted after me with a fever. It was that way in the beginning once she arrived at Ephemeral, too. Then greed, and all of the power I profess to have got in our way. Lines were drawn in the proverbial sand, and we found ourselves standing on opposite ends. Enemies. My worst nightmare realized, Laken and I no longer of one mind, of one heart.

“I want you, Wes,” she breathes hard in my ear before her hand slides to the lip of my jeans. “And tonight I’m going to have you. Now, are you going to deny me, or are you going to side with me on this?”

A dark laugh brews in my chest. “Oh, honey, I couldn’t deny you a single thing.”

My mouth lands over hers with a power I’ve yet to unleash on a woman. I pour out hard kisses, passionate, I’ll-love-you-to-the-grave-and-back kisses—and Laken and I have done just that. I move my body over hers and lift her arms up over the pillow, pinning her down the way I’ve done in those light drives about a thousand times. Laken and I have done every physical act imaginable back in Cider Plains under the orchestration of my haunted mind. But tonight, there is something sweet about this moment, even if the entire event is marred with deception.

She strips me clean, and I do the same until her heated flesh singes against mine and I let out a moan of agony. I have waited for this moment for so long it pains me on some level to know it’s arrived, to know it’s still a damn lie. Our bodies leash together as we wrestle it out with our mouths. And then I’m in her, pressing up against the nexus of her being as we cry out in ecstasy together far into the carnal hours of the night.

Laken is back in my life, if only for a moment.

And I can’t help but think I’ve damned myself to hell in the sweetest way possible.