Laken Flanders floats submerged with her eyes closed, her mouth sealed shut, her long brown hair floating around her like tendrils. She’s neatly tucked in a skintight wetsuit of some sort that Ezrina used to dress the Countsin.
“Shit. Does Coop know about this?” My head beats erratic, echoing through my skull at the insane amount of grief my friend must be feeling, or will feel. Hell, I care about Laken myself, and seeing her lifeless body spinning silently in that bubbling brew painsme.
“I don’t know. But that’s not Laken—at least not the version we know. As soon as I saw it, I ran like hell to tell him, and lo and behold he was having dinner with his wife. Whoever this is—whatever Ezrina has done, has something to dowith—”
“Wes.” My eyes close a moment at the thought of my brother having anything to do with this at all. “Who is she? Laken never mentioned a twin. I met her sisters at the wedding, and this isn’t one ofthem.”
Logan and I look up at the girl silently bobbing in the bright blue watery grave. Her uncanny resemblance to Laken is impossiblyperfect.
“It’s not a twin.” He glares at the girl a moment. “She might not be one of us. Hell, she might not even behuman.”
The sound of heels clicking down the hall behind us echoes into the room. “Logan?”
“It’s Skyla.” Logan looks to the curtain, and I can tell that for a brief moment he considers covering up this latest, perhaps not greatest, dirty little secret of ours. But he doesn’t do it. I think the days of keeping things from Skyla—even if it had fallen under the banner of her safety—are longgone.
“Gage?” Her face lights up for a moment when she sees me, and just as quickly her expression dims when she sees the horror in the room. “What in the hell?” Skyla staggers forward, her wool coat cinches her waist, emphasizing the fact she’s all but bounced back into shape. Skyla is beautiful in any shape or size, but I’ve heard her lament more times than not how much she craves to have her old body back. God, how I’ve missed her body in anystate.
Logan smacks me in the gut and pulls me out of mystupor.
“Skyla.” I lunge forward and wrap my arms around her. “It’s notLaken.”
“No.” Her voice comes out small. Her gaze never leaves that liquid casket. “I just left her.But—”
“We don’t know what’s going on.” My arms tighten around her waist, and every cell in my body relaxes for the first time in months. I haven’t held Skyla like this since December. Not holding your wife for months should be criminal. My heart thumps back to life as if it were waiting for her touch all along. And ithas.
Logan steps over, and the three of us stare up at the girl, thethingtogether. “I stumbled upon her thisafternoon.”
“And you called Gage.” Skyla gently breaks free from my arms and walks over to the tank, running her hand along the glass as I did moments before. “Of course, you did. He’s the one you trust,” she says it so low it’s as if she’s speaking toherself.
Logan and I exchange a quick glance. It pains us both to have lost Skyla’s trust. Logan and I have spent years breaking Skyla’s heart in just thatfashion.
“So, this is what Marshall and Nev were talking about.” A deep sigh expels from her as she sags at the sight of the girl above. “This must be Ezrina’s secret project.” She turns toward the two of us, the look of indifference on her face. “And that’s all I know.” She blinks a sarcastic smile. “Gage.” Her expression darkens. “Just the person I wanted to talkto.”
I can feel Logan flinch by my side. “I think I’ll head upstairs. I was thinking about making dinner. How about I make enough for the three of us?” He takes off without bothering to wait for ananswer.
“Four,” Skyla calls after him as he takes off. “Don’t forget your precious little Lexy Poo! Sluts have to eat, too, you know!” She turns to me and growls as if I were somehow harboring a slut of my own. But as irritated as she is, I’m that happy. In fact, I’m bursting with joy inside because my beautiful wife and I are alone, not another living soul in the room with us—and God knows that Laken lookalike isn’t able to take her nextbreath.
“Why are you dimpling at me?” She scowls at my cheeks as if the God-given divots I sport have somehow harnessed the ability to piss her off. It wouldn’t surprise me. Everything about me pisses Skyla off lately. And I’m not sure itshouldn’t.
“Because you’re beautiful—and you’re still my wife.” That last part comes out unnaturally aggressive. “And because it was me you wanted to speak with. I’d be lying if I didn’t say it stroked my ego a bit.” There—a single truth rolls around between us, hard and cold as amarble.
Her brows rise a notch as anger dissipates, replaced with amusement. “I bet there’s something far more tangible than your ego you’d like me tostroke.”
I don’t hesitate to run with it. “Can I put in a request for your tongue to do the stroking?” She drew first euphemism. Skyla and I have always enjoyed a healthy dose of sexual banter. It feels normal, necessary, and yes, desperate on my part just a bit. But then, I think the world knows I’ve always been desperate for Skyla on somelevel.
“I’d laugh, but that bulge forming in your jeans lets me know you’re not joking.” Her demeanor flattens once again. “Control that dragon in your pants, Oliver. He’s not taking flight in my vagina anytime soon.” She steps in front of the glass vial, and the glow from the keeping solution washes her skin an electric shade of blue. “Nevertheless.” Her voice grows breathy in a way that I haven’t heard in months, and my dick grows ten times harder. It takes far more willpower than I have to get myself off that sexual ledge. I should have mastered this skill by now. In high school, for as much as we were messing around, we weren’tfuckingaround, and thus my inhuman ability to get my hard-on to go the hellaway.
“Nevertheless.” I step in behind her and tuck my lips just shy of her neck. I can’t help it. That word sounded like a promise. At this point I’ll take an insult from the woman I love, let alone avow.
“That’s what Ezrina is calling her,Nevertheless.” She runs her fingers across a small bronze strip adhered near the bottom of the tank. “Ezrina always gives them a proper name—their given name. But not this one. She’s opted for an idea rather than a truth.” Skyla tips her head toward me and doesn’t bother hiding the smile tugging at her lips. “I guess the two of you have something in common afterall.”
A tired laugh dies within my chest. Skyla thinks I’ve opted for an idea rather than the truth. What she won’t let me tell her is that the truth is darker, far more frightening than she ever wants to know. A part of me doesn’t want to tell her. It’s morbid and hellish, and without a ray of light. What’s the point? Although, I need for her to understand—and so there it is, the double-edgedsword.
“You were looking for me?” I sweep the hair off her shoulder and soak in the heat from her body as I take a bold stepcloser.
Skyla looks up with those heaven-sent eyes, those barely there lenses that look clear as glass—a color impossible in nature. Those eyes alone should tip people off that she’s not quitehuman.
“Yes,” she whispers, glancing to the ground as her cheeks heat with color. “Tell me everything you know about MelodyWinters.”
