Free Ethereal Knights by Addison Moore Page B

I say with innuendo she’s going to think I’m a predator in the making. But I swear she has the power to make my vocal cords go off on their own.
    I snatch up Brielle’s unfinished ice cream and plunge a spoonful in my mouth to keep from saying another stupid thing.
    “Drive careful,” she shouts to Brielle as she bolts into the lot. Skyla looks over at me from under her lashes. Her cheeks come to life with color as she absorbs my features, and that very shade of red glossing the apples of her cheeks gives me far more hope than any of those visions right about now.
    I do believe Skyla Messenger is blushing and its all for me.
    My adrenaline kicks in, swelling my ego to the moon and back.
    Skyla looks like a beauty queen with her shorts cut off just past her hips. From this vantage point, she looks naked from the waist down and my imagination fires up like a midnight showing at a triple-X theater. She parts her legs just enough, as if teasing me, and I can’t help but notice the trace of darkness near her inner thigh.
    Holy shit.
    My jaw goes slack as the spoon slips from my mouth. The testosterone rises in my boxers, and I wish to God Brielle had left one of those bags around so I could enjoy the view without reservation.
    “Is Logan here?” she asks, sucking the feel-good vibes right out of the air.
    I slink down in my chair a notch with my hard-on losing all hope of ever being alleviated.
    “I’m not good enough?” I try to make it sound light, sarcastic, but miss by a miserable mile. Great. I’m pretty sure my dick and I should pack it up and head on home.
    “Of course you’re good enough.” She bites down on her lip as if my comment amused her on some level. “It’s just, you’re not Logan.”
    And there it is—the pin that managed to deflate my ego right along with my budding erection.
    I glide my eyes over her, up and down. This is it—Skyla is destined to be Logan’s girlfriend—hell, wife —unless of course, I think fast on my feet and do something to ensure some of those visions come true for me as well. Something tells me that one-on-one time with Skyla is going to get scarcer in the very near future if Logan has anything to say about it.
    She clears her throat and sharpens those diamond-cut eyes.
    “You always rude like that?” Skyla doesn’t bother to hide her annoyance with me.
    Shit.
    Could I fuck this up any faster?
    “I’m not trying to be rude.” I swallow hard. “Sorry.” Quick, change the freaking subject—change the subject. “Heard my dad’s looking into things for you.”
    “Yeah, I’m pretty excited. I’ve never thought about myself as an angel before. More like the opposite.” She shoves a giant heap of ice cream in her mouth and gives an impish grin.
    “Well, you’re definitely an angel.” My body has testified to that all night long on many occasions. “I know.”
    “And you know this because?”
    By the sheer volume of wet dreams she’s sponsored, but I don’t say that.
    “It’s my gift.”
    “Oh, Logan mentioned it,” she whispers, as if others might here. She leans in, suddenly interested in my presence, but I don’t mind. I’ll rattle off vision after vision if it keeps her by my side. “He said you told him we weren’t going to die until a ripe old age.”
    Figures. Logan’s already bonding with her on a “we” level, and he’s using me as the vehicle to do it.
    “Yeah, well, don’t go doing anything stupid like standing in front of a train.” I throw in the warning in the event she’s feeling immortal. “Just because you’re going to live doesn’t mean you can’t do it as a vegetable.” I wouldn’t mind if Logan turned into a vegetable—at least temporarily. Not that the celestial spotlight shinning down on him would ever permit it. He’s been shitting proverbial gold bricks for as long as I can remember.
    “Right.” She says it full of sarcasm, her mouth rounding out like I’ve just cemented my scary Oliver status.
    “I