Faction members who drained from Celestra and dove headfirst for cover with the Barricade are quickly jumping ship and returning to where they truly belong. Word on the celestial street is that Wes claims he has a serum to hide the markers as well, but he’s not coughing it up. People are getting nervous. People are quickly catching onto his lying, scheming ways.
Yes. Wesley and Gage are running scared—and that might very well be what we’re celebrating tonight, but my gut says there’s nothing more dangerous than a frightened pair of wicked brothers, especially when one of them isn’t willing to give up his crown. Nope. This may not be the right time to celebrate. But to hell with it—we’re going to do it anyway.
Skyla and I get ready for the night, keeping it casual, but in truth, it feels like prom all over again.
“Logan Oliver,” she pants as we head down the stairs and she pulls me into the foyer before we hit the nerve center of the Landon house. Her eyes ride up and down my body. “If I wasn’t taking a medical leave of absence from our sex life, I think we’d make another baby tonight.”
Ezrina asked her to abstain for a bit even though her Celestra abilities quickened her healing.
A dark laugh rumbles through my chest as I wrap my arms around her. “Rumor has it, we’re getting married in under a month. Maybe we’ll make a baby on our wedding night.”
“Now that would be a wedding keepsake of a lifetime. But we might have to live at the Landon house forever because there’s no way we could handle four kids under the age of five all by our lonesome. In fact, if it wasn’t for my mother, I wouldn’t be able to shower as it is.”
“You do realize I would gladly watch the kids while you showered.”
“Well, you can’t.” She hikes up on her tiptoes and takes a bite out of my lower lip. “Because you happen to shower with me.”
“I do like to do my part to conserve water.”
A giggle bounces from her. “Do you hear that drumming against the windows? That’s called rain. It has been raining nonstop on Paragon since Jaxson was born. If this keeps up, we’re going to get married in an ark.”
“Marrying you anywhere sounds like a good idea.” I land a heated kiss to her lips and linger.
“Skyla?” her mother calls from the family room. “Skyla, please pump for me. I need to fill up my pouches so I can feed Jaxson while you’re gone.”
She pulls back and moans. “Are you sure we can’t bring him? I just know everyone would love to see him.”
I wince as I glance out the window. “The rain isn’t letting up. There will be far too many people and loud music. Have I mentioned germs?” I swipe my finger over her cheek. “I’ll leave the last call to you, but my vote is a warm, dry Jaxson who doesn’t have to listen to Ellis blast heavy metal before it’s his time.”
She wrinkles her nose. “You’re so right. Come on. I need to pump my udders. They’re as hard as bowling balls.”
We head into the family room, and it’s a virtual who’s who of the Landon house. The pre-K crowd is present and accounted for, blissfully playing with a pile of fat Legos.
“Uncle Loggie!” Barron runs up, his face so painfully identical to his father’s it wrenches my heart anew each time I see it. “Nate and me are building a clubhouse just for boys. No girl dinosaurs can comes. Not Mommy, just you and me and Natey and Jaxsons.”
A dull laugh pulses through me. First, I find it adorable the way the boys can’t stop pluralizing the baby’s name, which is purely a mispronunciation on their part. But for the first few days after he was born—they called him their own baby brother dinosaur—their words, not mine—and they were actively looking for his twin. They actually asked if we gave him to Uncle Marshall or if Chloe ate him. The second was far more plausible than the first, and I think even their tiny yet brilliant minds are keenly aware of this.
“Sounds good.” I pat his head as he takes off. “Make sure I get a bed. Contrary to public opinion, I still like sleep.”
Brielle belts out a sarcastic moan as she comes my way. “What’s the matter,Loggie? The baby keeping you up at night?” She smirks at Skyla. “Get that kid off your boob and onto your mother’s. Face it, that’s why God gave us Lizbeth.”
“Nice,” Skyla muses. “Mom, I’ll pump right now.” She bends over and lands a kiss to Jaxson’s sweet head before dotting one to my lips, too. “Don’t you dare leave without me.” She takes off and Emily comes up.
“Are you responsible for this shit?” Em motions to the television as Drake, Ethan, and Tad all sit at the edge of their seats, hanging on every word from the talking head’s mouth. For the last fifteen days straight it’s been nonstop coverage of what’s being dubbed as The Alien Encounters. The Viden youth didn’t mind playing up the angle at all. And now the entire world is in a tizzy over the aliens who are from a distant planet called Eversor. Yes, they went for the Fem gold. If that’s not setting off a siren to the other Factions, I don’t know what is. Already there’s a healthy level of mass hysteria brewing. And deep in my gut I’m terrified it’s going to get way the hell out of control.
Only three of the Viden youth were taken in by the feds. The rest got away, and I’m glad about it. They’ve been through enough. But Skyla and I plan on freeing the three that were taken. All in time. I have a feeling they will be just fine until we do.
Drake turns our way as we enter into the family room. “Did you hear this shit? The government just confirmed the aliens are living among us. They’re fucking real, man—they’re real!”
“Hey”—I bark—“not in front of the kids.”
Drake scoffs as he tosses a game controller onto the floor in anger. “Dude, are you kidding me? We’re in the middle of a freaking alien invasion, and you’re worried about what comes out of my freaking mouth? Get your head out of my sister’s ass, Oliver. This is going down. They look just like us. The government is talking about setting up voluntary testing centers in every city across the US. You know what that means, don’t you?”
Shit. “The Factions need to protect themselves, and fast.”
“What?” Drake looks to Ethan in disbelief, and he shushes him while turning up the volume on the TV. “No, man. It means the people who voluntarily spit on a stick for the G-men are automatically going to be suspects.”
“It’s true.” Tad folds his arms tightly across his chest. He’s got on some hairy looking robe, and I do not even want to probe into what creature had to die to make it and how much it costs. Too much is my guess. “Kids are going to get tested, too. The schools are calling it voluntary, but only because they don’t want to get sued. The next thing you know, they’ll be advertising an alien-free learning environment.”
