No. Demetri waited. But why?
Or maybe he didn’t wait. Maybe he was forced to wait…
Maybe someone cock-blocked him from my mother. And does cock-blocking work in reverse like that?
Now that’s something I would need to talk to Bree about.
My God, Bree, my beautiful best friend—Earth and all of its beautiful people. What I wouldn’t give to know the planet again, to be a part of you, to watch a sunrise, see the moon from that distal vantage point, to taste a kiss from Logan Oliver’s lips, from my precious trio of boys. They need me as much as I need them.
The stars fade out from around me as the sky grows a pale shade of lavender.
Demetri floats to the forefront of my mind again like some demonic bruise, as if he were haunting me even in this disembodied state.
Demetri loves Lizbeth Landon. So bloody what. Let him have her. Just give me back my life.
But that knot demands to be untangled, a fine gold necklace, so dainty and so twisted it would take a miracle to return to its natural state. Why didn’t Demetri move a celestial mountain for Lizbeth Messenger before she became a Landon? Why?
Why in God’s name is this tearing apart my brain as I journey upward, journey home? Another ploy of death? An unremarkable distraction to pacify me, to keep me from causing a celestial riot? Perhaps. But it feels like a nasty itch that demands to be scratched.
Why hadn’t I pondered this so intensely before? Are my thoughts stronger now that I’m no longer bound by the firing of neurons and synapses? I’m assuming so. But you would imagine I would be preoccupied with grander things than this.
I bypass the depths of dark space until the sky begins to take on a light blue hue and something akin to adrenaline courses through me.
I am going to see the face of God.
I am going to see Sage.
Just one look.
Just one glimpse.
And then I’ll ask to go home.
I must go back.
I must.
It is nonnegotiable.
The sky around me flashes white as lightning, brighter than a nuclear explosion, the sun in all its intensity knows no such resplendence.
And then, as if it hits me for the very first time, the gravity of what is about to transpire weighs heavy on me.
I cannot see the face of God and live.
This is not like any other trip I’ve taken to Ahava, to thethroneroom. This is something altogether different. This time it’s personal. And my own life is truly in the balance, although some might argue that was a fight I lost in Gage Oliver’s arms just moments before.
Who could help me? Who could rescue me?
Two names come to mind, and without thinking, I shout Marshall Dudley’s name with all that I am worth.
I think deep down I understood Candace Messenger would not, could not care for me the way that he would. Even though I’d like to believe the contrary, I understand this right down to the very depths of my soul.
It is Marshall. It will always be Marshall who will love me with my best interest in mind. And dear God, it had better be so.
The scenery around me transforms, and I’m standing in a cave of red jasper. A bright light shines from the end of the cave, giving it a tunnel effect, and I see an arm held out my way.
“Ms. Messenger,” a warm voice says my name, and I take up his hand and step on out, only to see Marshall Dudley standing tall and proud, gleaming and gorgeous beyond belief in a white three-piece suit. His dark blond hair is slicked back, and his cauldron red eyes are boiling with delight. His high-cut cheekbones, and handsome features are far too comely to comprehend.
