“No human trials. I am usurping his authority. Do not touch the so-called three musketeers. If those pigs live to see spring, we’ll talk then.” I stride off, angry and bitter. “How dare he,” I mutter under my breath. And after that whole spiel he fed me about taking the reins. I’ll take the reins right out of his supernatural hands. Doesn’t he realize how very precious life is?
I lose myself in the crowd a moment. Bodies swirl around me in a dizzying blur. Those dismal scenes Marshall showed Logan and me burn through my mind like a branding iron. Marshall wanted to show me what would happen with inactivity, with complacency, with me doing nothing. Oh hell. He’s right. Human trials must begin and they must work. But if they don’t…
I can’t even bring myself to finish the sentence.
A pair of arms pulls me from the thick of the crowd as the music grows louder and faster, and as quick as a breath I’m right back in that dark corridor once again, only it’s not Rory’s eyes I’m looking into. These glowing ocean deep eyes belong to Gage Oliver.
There are moments in life where you feel pulled from reality, as if you were transported to another realm entirely. But this isn’t some out-of-body experience where I feel as if I’m watching the entire event unfold from the ceiling. This feels lucid, a saline moment that I’m experiencing with every last cell in my body on high alert.
His left hand is still tucked in the small of my back, his right cups my cheek, his thumb brushing it softly.
I can hear Marshall, thick skin—and like a reflex, I jerk him away with a violent thrust.
“You don’t get to touch me whenever you wish.” My chest is pulsating, my anger boiling. But deep down, I want the moment to defuse, for Gage and me to hobble back to the way we were. As much as I hate that desperate part of me, I think I need it. One strand of hope that Gage is still alive behind those stormy eyes.
His lips pull back and a look of regret takes over his features before he hardens again as easy as putting on a mask.
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple rises and falls, and he nods as if he were having a conversation with himself, talking himself into something. Something good perhaps. There goes my wishful thinking.
“Don’t talk to my wife that way again.” Gage scours his eyes over mine as if expecting some kind of a caustic response.
“Is that why you dragged me here like some caveman?” I shake my head just barely. “I don’t think so, Gage.” My voice is lower than a whisper. A part of me fears I might be wrong. “You heard Logan. He’s the go-between. You don’t get to pull me from a crowd. You don’t get to caress my cheek. You don’t get to speak to me directly anymore unless the boys require immediate attention. You may text me concerning the boys—but again only if there is something you deem requires my immediate attention. Other than that, it’s Logan.”
“So you’re together with him now?” He glances past my shoulder, and in a strange way it was as if he were talking to himself.
“What do you care if I’m with Logan, Marshall, Ellis, and I’m screwing Brody Bishop on the side? Who I choose to spend my time, my nights with is no longer any of your concern.” A husky laugh strums deep in my chest as a fireball of emotions races through my veins.
In an odd twist of fate, it’s this moment that I feel myself taking back my power. All of the intangible parts of me, the most valuable of them all, I can feel them gliding back into my very being, stronger than ever before. A fierce possessiveness of who I am and where I am going overcomes me. In a strange way, this prehistoric snatching that Gage has pulled off has become a strange blessing.
His eyes close a moment, an action of his I’m more than familiar with. He’s acquiescing, sorting through the evil cards he’s dealt himself and trying to make heads or tails of how in the hell he got a rotten hand.
There are two clear paths he can take. He can say something nice—something that alludes to the fact he wishes me well and has no intention on interfering with my life more than necessary. Otherwise known as the high road. Or—he can go low, tell me to go to hell in a way that only this new version of him can.
My heart slams against my chest, anticipating which road we’ll travel. The ball is in his court, and I am curious to see where it ends up.
Gage hardens his gaze over mine, his lips pursed in a tight angry knot.
“Do whatever the hell you want with your life, but I will reiterate—stay away from Chloe.” His lower lip pulls down unnaturally as if he were staving off tears. “She’s mine.” He takes off and I stand there in the dark, watching him enter the light as he speeds past a group of cackling girls—one of them the exact witch he just laid claim to.
“Skyla?” Logan’s voice echoes around me before he appears at the mouth of the entry to this dismal hall and he blissfully blocks out all of the light for a moment.
“I was just on my way back,” I whisper.
He pulls me into his arms before I can take three steps. “I saw Gage racing out of here. Did he hurt you?”
I inch back, stunned by the question in general. “No. In fact, I feel stronger for it.” My fingers find their way into the back of his hair and something warms in me. Logan presses those fiery amber eyes deep into mine and it feels as if I’ve finally made my way back home. Marshall was just another shield I tried to put over my heart. I’m dropping my defenses. Risking it all once again for this man, right here.
“I’m glad to hear it.” His lips twitch as something just shy of a lewd smile creeps up his cheek.
The squeal of a microphone goes off as the music cuts out. “If I can please have your attention, my name is Principal Rice and I would like to welcome each one of you back to West Paragon High!” The crowd goes wild and I can’t help but bite down a smile as I look to Logan.
“Principal Rice? Now there’s a throwback. Why do I feel like I’m about to get into some serious trouble?”
Logan’s brows bounce.
Principal Rice laughs into the microphone. “I just want to thank each one of you for taking the time to come out tonight, and to let you know that through your generous donations that are still pouring in, we have raised close to twenty thousand dollars!” The crowd cheers twice as hard as before. “And since this is prom, I think it’s time we announce the king and queen. So if you’re not out on the dance floor, come on down because you will not want to miss this.”
“You heard her.” Logan navigates us back out into the thicket of bodies and lands us in the heart of the dance floor.
