Wicked (29 page)

I can’t make out their faces. Everyone stands still while an arrow flies across the field in their midst. A round of applause breaks out.

It figures. Marshall’s probably training Fems to hunt me down by the dozens.

At once everything stops. People gather towards the stone and simultaneously stoop low and pick something up off the ground.

They’re getting, dressed?

Long dark cloaks are pulled over their clothes.

“Oh my God.” I seize with panic.

It’s some kind of satanic ritual.

I strain to make out their faces as they gather near the stone. Some of them look about my age, familiar.

One of the cloaked figures snaps his neck in my direction, stares into the bushes as though he knows I’m here. He breaks free from the crowd and slips away undetected.

In the back of my mind, I can hear Marshall’s charge to run, but my feet won’t move. I swallow down a scream.

The cloaked figure hides in the shadowed periphery as he moves in my direction.

He comes upon me with yellow glowing eyes. His dark hood drips to the ground. His face is merged with the shadows. He pulls the hood back and gives a wicked grin.

“Logan!” I lunge into him, bury my face in his neck, and take in his familiar scent.

Relief a mile wide swells through me, and I pull back, soaking in his regal beauty.

“Are you OK?” he pants. “We thought he took you.” His chest rises and falls in spasms.

I give a quick nod as he pulls me into an electrifying kiss. I can feel the sizzle of movement coursing through his veins. I try to push him away, but he overpowers me until I can’t move my arms.

Logan pulls back and examines me. I want to scold him and remind him I’m with Gage, but more than that I just want him to get me home.

It’s a meeting, Skyla. He darts a glance over his shoulder.

I see them now clearly, the faces of men and women—oh God—Nat and Pierce! I bet Pierce has an entire bag of kittens ready to sacrifice.

It is a sacrifice, Logan says, rubbing his thumb against my cheek, a blood bonding.

“Creepy.” I strain to make out the faces of those milling around in flowing black robes.

I shift my gaze to Logan. The purple velvet lining the inside of his cloak gives off a sickly hue upon his skin.

He looks from me, to the gathering, then back again with the glint of an idea.

I interlace our fingers and try to pull him in my direction, but he’s quick to release my grip and clasp me by the wrist instead.

The crowd turns towards us.

“It’s OK. I’ve got you.” He pulls me out into the clearing.

“No,” I pant.

Logan pulls me forward in large gaping strides, brings me tripping right into their midst.

“What the hell are you doing?” I struggle to break free from his grip.

His eyes light up like golden embers, his face cold as stone.

The crowd examines us with blank dead stares. I lock in on a pair of familiar faces, take in a breath and forget to let go.

Chloe—and Brielle. She knows. She’s always known.

I can’t breathe.

My entire body trembles with hatred. I have to get away. I have to run. My fingers pat around as I ease my way backwards. I accidentally tap the stone and it shoots off the intense sting of an electrical current.

Shit!

I snatch back my hand and look up at Logan the boy I thought I knew.

“Help,” I whisper.

His features sharpen, hard as marble. He says nothing in return.

Feels like a bad dream.

They pull their hoods on one by one—except Chloe. She makes her way over with a smug look of satisfaction.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” she says with a sterile look that goes beyond hate and jealousy—something entirely foreign to me. Her fingers thread through my hair as she unhooks the clasp on my necklace and places the protective hedge back around her neck, swift as a magician.

Chloe resumes her position next to Brielle and the circle closes in as they take one another’s hands.

“Demetri,” Logan says, tipping his hand above his shoulder as a dark figure from behind, lays a dagger on his palm.

My entire person freezes. It’s him—the man who initiated the death of my father—my family. I try to make out his features, but the cloak has him locked in shadows.

Logan grips the handle of the knife, never breaking our gaze, and gives it a light swing in my direction.

Seeing him like this, in all of his Countenance nobility paralyzes me. Thoughts of what he plans to do with that blade gleaming pridefully in his hand suffocates me.

“This will only hurt for a moment.” Logan voice is layered with savage ambition.

It was all an act right from the beginning.

I have never known him.

“We’ll need you to lie down for us,” Demetri says, stepping out from the

shadows.

Logan’s lips curve into the slightest impression of a smile.

“Welcome to the sacrifice, Skyla.”

Look for VEX, book 5 in the Celestra Series COMING SOON!

Addison Moore is a graduate from the University of Southern California who writes young adult paranormal romance. She resides on the West Coast with her family and two dogs. Feel free to visit her blog at http://addisonmoorewrites.blogspot.com/