Halloween costume.
“You’re really here.” She touches her hand to my face and looks at me in wonder. “And now, so am I.”
“I think I need help.” My breathing grows erratic. My chest is on fire. I’m pretty sure I need to start hitting the panic button and getting Candace Messenger on the red line because something akin to a celestial ambulance is going to be needed in just a few seconds.
“God, I love you,” she whispers, her eyes narrow in on me as if she were in pain. She places her cool hands over my cheeks and pulls me in.
Skyla hikes up on the balls of her feet and crashes her lips to mine. I don’t fight it. I twist my arrow-riddled chest to the left and pull her in close as we indulge in a deep meaningful kiss with our tongues slipping over one another for what feels like hours.
My knees start to buckle, can’t breathe. The world feels as if its spinning out of control, and I sink to the ground.
The last thing I see is Skyla’s beautiful face—then Marshall’s ugly mug as he stands over her shoulder.
“Your gift is here.” He smirks down at me. “And should you have shown me an ounce of gratitude for all I’ve ever done for you, we wouldn’t be witness to your demise.” He kicks me in the thigh before heading toward the house.
Skyla drops to my side and gently slaps my cheek, begging me to stay awake. Her voice dances around me elusive and hard to grasp, like a butterfly.
The world fades in and out.
Get your mother , I try to tell her.
“Logan, wait! ” she screams. “Logan, come back. Something big has happened, and it affects you and me .”
Skyla walked out of the forest with zero regard for the arrows lodged in my chest and kissed me. Something big had happened and she wanted to share the news.
Tell me, Skyla, I want to know .
My eyes won’t open, all sound fades from the world.
Skyla was my gift, and now I lose her twice.
Dudley is right. I’m a bigger moron than I think.
Her lips sink over mine, soft as a summer sky. Skyla’s kisses are resuscitating my love-thirsty soul—her lingual affection is the exact brand of medicine I’ve needed all along.
Skyla is the cure for everything.
I’ve always known that.
And so has she.
1
In the Beginning
Skyla
Present Day
They say when you’re sleeping is when you really live. Deep in your subconscious all of your carnal desires play out, dark and sultry, in the theater of your mind. Some people are lucky enough to control their dreams, navigate them in the direction they wish to travel and enjoy adventure after adventure, have an entirely different life from sundown to sun up, if they wanted. Other people don’t remember their dreams. They drift off to sleep and rouse from their slumber without any record of their nocturnal wanderings. As for me, I can neither control my dreams nor forget them. Lately they’ve been rather thematic. One naughty Sector and me, the tumbling of our flesh, the tug and pull of limbs and teeth—the steady sound of skin slapping over skin—the hearty grunts, our cataclysmic screams pollute the night air with their fornicating howls.
The hot sand of Paragon’s salty shore warms my feet as I wait for him to find me.
The shadow of a man strides toward me, fully dressed in a suit, that sexy snarl permanently set to his face.
“There you are,” I say, waving as he comes my way. Marshall is tall and stately—comely to the point of nausea. And each night, I need his body covering mine more than I need air to breathe. “You’re a little overdressed for the beach aren’t you?”
“What—and deprive you the pleasure of undressing me?” He hooks his sultry eyes into mine.
“You know me all too well.”
He dips his chin and stares into me with demonic intent. “Inside and out.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” I pull him in by the waist. “Besides, I love it that you know me inside and out—especially the inside part.”
His chest thumps
“You’re really here.” She touches her hand to my face and looks at me in wonder. “And now, so am I.”
“I think I need help.” My breathing grows erratic. My chest is on fire. I’m pretty sure I need to start hitting the panic button and getting Candace Messenger on the red line because something akin to a celestial ambulance is going to be needed in just a few seconds.
“God, I love you,” she whispers, her eyes narrow in on me as if she were in pain. She places her cool hands over my cheeks and pulls me in.
Skyla hikes up on the balls of her feet and crashes her lips to mine. I don’t fight it. I twist my arrow-riddled chest to the left and pull her in close as we indulge in a deep meaningful kiss with our tongues slipping over one another for what feels like hours.
My knees start to buckle, can’t breathe. The world feels as if its spinning out of control, and I sink to the ground.
The last thing I see is Skyla’s beautiful face—then Marshall’s ugly mug as he stands over her shoulder.
“Your gift is here.” He smirks down at me. “And should you have shown me an ounce of gratitude for all I’ve ever done for you, we wouldn’t be witness to your demise.” He kicks me in the thigh before heading toward the house.
Skyla drops to my side and gently slaps my cheek, begging me to stay awake. Her voice dances around me elusive and hard to grasp, like a butterfly.
The world fades in and out.
Get your mother , I try to tell her.
“Logan, wait! ” she screams. “Logan, come back. Something big has happened, and it affects you and me .”
Skyla walked out of the forest with zero regard for the arrows lodged in my chest and kissed me. Something big had happened and she wanted to share the news.
Tell me, Skyla, I want to know .
My eyes won’t open, all sound fades from the world.
Skyla was my gift, and now I lose her twice.
Dudley is right. I’m a bigger moron than I think.
Her lips sink over mine, soft as a summer sky. Skyla’s kisses are resuscitating my love-thirsty soul—her lingual affection is the exact brand of medicine I’ve needed all along.
Skyla is the cure for everything.
I’ve always known that.
And so has she.
1
In the Beginning
Skyla
Present Day
They say when you’re sleeping is when you really live. Deep in your subconscious all of your carnal desires play out, dark and sultry, in the theater of your mind. Some people are lucky enough to control their dreams, navigate them in the direction they wish to travel and enjoy adventure after adventure, have an entirely different life from sundown to sun up, if they wanted. Other people don’t remember their dreams. They drift off to sleep and rouse from their slumber without any record of their nocturnal wanderings. As for me, I can neither control my dreams nor forget them. Lately they’ve been rather thematic. One naughty Sector and me, the tumbling of our flesh, the tug and pull of limbs and teeth—the steady sound of skin slapping over skin—the hearty grunts, our cataclysmic screams pollute the night air with their fornicating howls.
The hot sand of Paragon’s salty shore warms my feet as I wait for him to find me.
The shadow of a man strides toward me, fully dressed in a suit, that sexy snarl permanently set to his face.
“There you are,” I say, waving as he comes my way. Marshall is tall and stately—comely to the point of nausea. And each night, I need his body covering mine more than I need air to breathe. “You’re a little overdressed for the beach aren’t you?”
“What—and deprive you the pleasure of undressing me?” He hooks his sultry eyes into mine.
“You know me all too well.”
He dips his chin and stares into me with demonic intent. “Inside and out.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” I pull him in by the waist. “Besides, I love it that you know me inside and out—especially the inside part.”
His chest thumps
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