I glance to Marshall.
The sexy Sector bleeds a dark smile. “Name your price, Ms. Bishop. You have all the power.”
Not what I was expecting him to say. I was sort of hoping for a celestial reprimand that demanded she listen to her superior or else face her own expulsion from this spinning blue rock. But then, I’m sort of infamous for things not going my way. My guess is, Marshall has gone in the right direction.
Chloe belts out a wicked laugh like only she can. “Oh, Skyla, when are you going to learn, I should always have all the power.” She snarls as she looks to the wall behind me. “What does this possession entail exactly?”
Marshall nods briefly. “Ms. Messenger will be the primary. Your body will be the host, of course, and she will control all limbs, functions, speech included. You will be able to hear one another’s thoughts. You will be able to feel everything she feels physically, not emotionally. You will still have the ability to taste the food she puts into your mouth and be satiated or otherwise deficient.”
“In effect, I’ll be a vegetable in my own body.” She glowers at me for even bringing up the idea. “And how long before you leave?”
“I’ll be gone by my wedding night, Chloe.” I shake my head. “And so help me God, I will move heaven and earth to evict Rory far before then, too. I’m getting married in less than a month. I know I can give her the boot, but I can’t do it without your help. But don’t think of me, or my wedding. Think of the Factions. She’s about to set us back in time to the Dark Ages, and I wish I were exaggerating. She’s wicked. She makes you look like Mother Teresa. Let’s face it, your halo shines a little brighter around her. Hell, she gives your entire halo a spit shine.”
Chloe takes a breath as she considers it. “I’ll want something in exchange.”
“I expect nothing less. What is it?” Okay, so I may not have thought this through. Because at this desperate point, no matter how outlandish Chloe’s demands are, I have no choice but to give into them.
“I’m no longer your secondhand gal.” Her lips expand.
Honest to God, Chloe is far more delusional than I thought if she believes she was ever my secondhand gal, but I’ll go with it.
She nods as if she heard me. “I will be your equal from here on out. You might be back on that celestial throne, but I will rule beside you. Your power will be reduced by half, and that half will be given to me. I’m no fool, Skyla. I know your mother will never allow me to rule in your place. But you will agree to my demands. And don’t expect this to be done under friendly terms. I don’t ever have to like you.”
“Duly noted.” It comes out with far less enthusiasm on my part. I take a deep breath as I look to Marshall. “This is all Rory’s stupid fault.”
Marshall lifts a brow. “My love, it was your lips that lingered over that wicked Oliver. I believe the blame lies square over your libido.”
“No,” Chloe flatlines as she dares correct him. “It’s her defunct heart that’s to blame. She still wants to believe Gage loves her.” She says the wordlovesin air quotes as she pretends to vomit. “She wants to believe that he’s not the power-hungry monster he truly is. Skyla, you might think my heart is missing, but had you ignored yours on more than one occasion, you wouldn’t be in half the messes you’re in. It would have benefited all of us if you took a page out of my cold-hearted playbook. But—it’s too late for that now, isn’t it?”
“Too late indeed,” I mutter.
Her words swill through my mind like bitter wine.
My God, I hate it when Chloe Bishop is right.
Chloe blinks a short-lived smile. “Now that you’ve agreed to my primary terms, I have other terms you must abide by before you gain entry to the holy of holies, this, my beautiful body.”
More like the unholy of holies, but I don’t dare let a single zinger fly.
“Go on,” I say. “Let me have it.” And I do feel as if I’m about to take it on the chin.
“No sleeping around. I will not be getting knocked up on your watch.” She gets right to the crude and lewd point. “Unless I approve of the victim.” That devilish grin expands on her lips again. “As for food, I don’t eat chicken or most red meat. I make exceptions for turkey if it’s smoked or juicy. None of that dry shit. I eat fish, but not all. Sushi is a no-go. I don’t do well with beans so I don’t eat them. I try to limit my gluten, and for God’s sake no dairy. Do not think because you will be lounging in my body for a short period of time that this is the equivalent of your Rumspringa. You are not to abuse the privilege of having me host your ditzy soul. Do not start filling my pie hole with Ding Dongs and Twinkies at random just because you won’t have to live with the caloric havoc you wreak on my body. This is my temple, and I happen to appreciate the hell out of it. I walk once a day. I hate running. Do not twist my body into a pretzel because it helps you meditate and further lose your mind. Do not over apologize as you are prone to do. I don’t want people to think I’m a pussy. You will be curt and confident at all times. I don’t need you tearing down the reputation I spent a lifetime building. I don’t cavort with Harrison or that nitwit he’s leashed himself to. I can tolerate Michelle, Lexy, Nat, and Em but for short spates of time only. I abhor Laken. I have very little time for Brielle. I can take or leave Logan, but I suppose you’ll let him in on your body-snatching secret. If we happen to run into any half-breeds that fell out of my vagina, a cordial greeting is all they get. I don’t want to confuse them with some lovey-dovey routine you might want to pull. Wes raises my kids, and that’s the way it goes. I’d advise you to do the same with your own rugrats lest they love me unreasonably by the time you’re through with me. But, given the fact you’re such a bleeding heart, I don’t expect you to follow that rule with your own children. Just know, my tits are off-limits to them.”
“No tits. Got it.” As if I would have done that.
Okay, so it crossed my mind, but only because Chloe just had a baby a few months back herself. I’m sure with my mother’s help we could have gotten her milk to come in again. And I would give anything to nurse Jaxson one more time.
“And lastly”—Chloe’s entire demeanor hardens because apparently this last point of contention is a doozy—“Gage Oliver.”
“Good Lord.” I shudder just hearing his name.
“That’s right.” She gives a little nod. “I thought he would evoke some emotion in you. But he is neither good nor our Lord, now is he?”
“No,” I’m quick to agree on both points.
“But he still reigns in your heart. I’m not stupid, Skyla. I can see it in your stubborn eyes. And don’t give me any of that Logan Oliver bull. You’re somehow damaged enough to be equally smitten with both. Nonetheless, I’m positive you and Gage have moved in different directions whether or not you have come to this conclusion yourself. And seeing that he’s still driving this celestial crazy train as the leader of the Factions”—she looks to Marshall—“leaving the Sectors in the septic tank, I think we can all agree that Gage must go to Hell sooner than later.” She gives a smug smile. “And it will be my good, good pleasure to hear you say those exact same words to him—the caveat being, you must tell him exactly what I think of him, too.”
I nod. “We’ll come at him with both barrels firing. I wouldn’t want it any other way. You think you’re pissed at him? Oh, honey, I promise I can rival any vengeance you have planned.”
