Free Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7) by Addison Moore Page A

yanking it off permanently once I get upstairs and then quite possibly scalding my finger as a punishment for donning the lie to begin with. 
    “Must hurt like hell to have him fool you. I think he went way too far with it all.” She breathes the words out. “We should team up. Let the bastard have it.” Chloe brands the words in my ear.
    Right. Like I’d ever fall into that bear trap again. The last time we teamed up, I had a starring role in a DVD loosely entitled, Skyla Does Paragon . I hear it’s still a big hit with the track team.
    “So what are you thinking?” I follow her over to the coffee machine. I don’t mind mollifying Chloe’s need to bridge the gap in our non-existent friendship. I’m sure she’d pay to see me mutilate Gage’s reproductive organs—on second thought maybe not. I’m sure she dreams of desecrating those herself with a little help from her own reproductive organs. 
    “I was thinking maybe a stabbing.” She pours herself a full cup of coffee, black as her heart.
    “Invoking your specialty, I see.”
    “Maybe you’d like to defer to yours and lop off a body part—one you haven’t seen before.” Chloe glows with delight at my lack of carnal knowledge.
    “Like you have,” I hiss.
    She needles me with her aggressive hatred. A dark smile blooms across her face.
    “Why, yes, Skyla. I have.”
     
    ***
     
    The evening comes wrapped in a foreboding grey fog. I dread the festivities that are about to descend upon us like some celebratory plague. I’m feeling lots of things and celebratory isn’t one of them.
    “Skyla.” Mom snatches me by the shoulder as I make my way down the hall. “The party started an hour ago. Why are you being so rude?”
    “I fell asleep—I’m still shaking off that flu. I didn’t want to get the baby sick.”
    “He’s not here.” She twists her lips with disappointment. “It’s like they’re purposefully keeping him away from us. They said he’s fussy and hates people.”
    “Genetically identical to Drake. Who knew?”
    “You’re a real comedian.” She spins me toward the crowd. “Now get out there. Your fiancé has been asking for you since he got here. And eat something, would you? There’s tons of millet bread and quinoa.” She pauses before continuing down the hall to greet an entire bevy of unsuspecting souls who she plans on accosting with her progressive cooking regime—and to think all this culinary madness has ensued just to enhance her ovaries. “And there are five full batches of wheat germ chili that nobody’s even touched.”
    I’m pretty sure adding the word “germ” doesn’t do a whole lot to enhance its appeal. In fact, I’m betting that lands it an automatic expulsion from every appetite in a twenty-mile radius. 
    She scrunches her nose playfully. “And I even threw in some Kohlrabi.”
    “Are you choking?” That or speaking in tongues—all things seem possible tonight.
    “It’s a vegetable.” She rolls her eyes. “You should have some. I hear it’s used in love potions worldwide.” She gives a wink. “Then again you and Gage don’t need it.”
    God help us. She lacing the food with aphrodisiacs—by night’s end, she might unwittingly have all of Paragon both procreating and running to the bathroom with an urgency to flush out their bowels. We’ll be on the news from the bizarre baby slash incontinence boom—Gage could deliver them all since he’s vying for superhero status. We could call him Gynecological Gage or Assman—Ass hole —take your pick.
    “Looks like a real feast,” I say to myself as I enter the family room.
    Bodies mill around—loose laughter congests the air. Contrary to what Mom desires, nary a soul has ventured over to the buffet. In fact, there appears to be a six-foot barrier between the food and any living thing, including Sprinkles the dog.
    I spot Logan and Gage near the back door and everything in me freezes.
    For a second, I consider rescuing Logan from whatever