The sound of giggling comes from the right and my feet lead me over before Marshall can confirm my theory. I walk past the enormous trunks of the overgrown pines and spot a field of sorts filled with every fruit tree imaginable, with vegetables of every shape and size, some of which I have a hard time identifying. The giggling starts up again and I see a couple standing by a floral blooming tree that reminds me of a plumeria. But I’m not too interested in the tree or the heavenly scent permeating the area.
That couple bearing far too much flesh has my full attention and my feet float over their way. My eyelids all but flip backward as I take in this naked, all too familiar duo, and my adrenaline hits its zenith without warning.
“Marshall,” I hiss. I’m equally infuriated as I am confused. Standing before me, whispering amongst themselves, is another version of Logan and myself. My hair is a touch darker, and that bush between my legs is downright humiliating. My God, I could put that thing in nineteen different ponytails. And Logan is a rather shaggy version of himself as well, but still—hotter than that kitchen fire that once took down a part of the original bowling alley. “What the hell is going on?”
The smirking Sector looks down with a devilish gleam in his eyes—never a good sign. “I believe the instructions were, take me back to the beginning. And this, my love, is the very beginning.”
The beautiful garden, the tranquil animals, two very naked people…
“Oh my ever-loving God,” I moan just as my doppelgänger turns around and I can’t help but shoot my mother in the sky a look that saysyou would.
The girl starts gabbing away in some language I’ve never heard in my life and Marshall lifts his hands over my ears.
“Allow me to rectify the language barrier among the three of you.” He waves in their direction and the air looks as if it has just congealed between us.
“Did the heavenly father send you?” This cheery, smiling, naked as the day she was born or hatched or sculpted from dirt version of me asks in the sweetest voice that I have never once owned.
“No, the heavenly father did not send me.” I turn and swat Marshall. “This sneaky Sector delivered me at your feet just to prove that he’s got a sense of humor.” I snarl up at him. “If this is your idea of trying to make me feel better, then I suggest you try again. A foot massage and a cup of hot tea would have done nicely. And then maybe a noose to hang Chloe with.” A couple of nooses if I’m being honest. Gage Oliver in his current incarnation isn’t doing me a whole lot of good either.
“What’s this noose?” Adam asks—I’ve dove into Genesis enough to know the entire sob story these two have proliferated. Leave it to knockoffs of Logan and me to ruin everything for all of humankind forever. I glare up at Marshall once again, because if he’s trying to drive home a point, I so get it. And how I wish he hadn’t dragged the Garden of Eden into it.
“Never mind what that is.” I look back to the seemingly content power couple and can’t help but drop my gaze to Logan’s junk. His ancestor was hung like a horse!
Eve clutches at the invisible pearls around her neck. Nice to know this is an innate action built into the grand design of women the world over.
“What do you want?” she coos with the urgency of an injured dove.
“I don’t know what we want,” I snip back without meaning to. “I’m sorry I’m so upset, but you’re both naked. I can’t think straight!” I riot as I tug at the hair at my temples. I need to get out of here and back to Paragon sans a few years from the present.
Dear Lord, I can’t even get Marshall to follow my orders. At this rate, things are never going to work out for me.
“Naked?” Adam looks to Eve quizzically.
I can’t help but steal another quick glance to all of those sex organs dangling and bouncing. Eve looks down at her—fantastic breasts might I add, and does a little hand bra maneuver. I guess she’s not used to people ogling, especially seeing that there are no other people here to ogle her. All she and the Logan look-alike have to do all day is each other. Even the amazing vegetable garden is on autopilot at this point in time. Man, do they ever have it made.
I clear my throat. “Never mind your lack of clothing—”
Eve steps forward and plucks at my dress before I can finish. “Clothing?”
“Forget the clothing.” I pull my dress back. “You don’t need clothing. That’s the beauty of this place.”
She looks to her equally perplexed hubby. “Clothing is beautiful. I must have one. It’s like a sheath made from gossamer and wind, but ten times sturdier. How wonderful it will feel to wear the wind.”
“Lord.” I glower at Marshall who looks to be stifling a laugh. And just as I’m about to threaten him within an inch of his existence, I suck in a sharp breath before turning back to Adam and Eve. “Oh my word, you didn’t eat that ridiculous fruit yet, did you? Please, please, please, heed my warning. That thing is forbidden for a reason! Believe you me, Eve, you’re about to have a hundred little munchkins ruling the roost and you will thank me for this sage advice once you’re in labor.”
Holy heck, what if I get back to the present and all memories of my own horrific birth with the boys is erased from my memory? That was the most singularly physically painful ten plus hours of my life. And no thanks to Gage’s desire to partake in his own forbidden fruit, I now have something emotional to rival it. Ironically, I feel the pain he’s inflicted physically as well.
“What fruit?” Eve steps in with those glowing baby blues of mine, those features I see in the mirror each and every day—my mother’s to be exact, something about this entire scene breaks my heart. My mother made sure I was her exact representation when she designed me—and believe me when I say she went to lengths to ensure I was her carbon copy. Apparently, she started that game right in the beginning. And seeing what a huge fan she is of Logan Oliver, it’s no surprise that the first man to walk the planet held his handsome countenance.
Adam’s chest puffs up. “There’s only one fruit we haven’t partaken in.”
Eve gets a squirrely, all too familiar look in her eye and, oh crap—there goes the neighborhood.
“Oh no, you don’t.” I wag my finger at them while walking backward and plucking Marshall by the sleeve right along with me. “You do not get to pin this entire fiasco on me. Do not go near that forbidden fruit, Eve. It tastes like bitterness and despair. But I know that wily look on your face, and I have certainly read the story. You guys aresoabout to get busted!”
Eve scoffs my way. “Demetri says it’s fine. It tastes like melons and wine. It will make me think clearer and see the things before me as they truly are.”
“Demetri?” His name slips from my lips lower than a whisper as I stagger my way forward. “Demetri…” My mind reels with the possibilities and then like a hammer it hits home. “That’s the name of your little garden pet, isn’t it? The serpent?”
