hot story, “we consummated our union right there in the room of fire in front of God and Kresley, herself. Grayson said my moves were weak. She says to tell you you’ve been spared of an embarrassing episode beneath the sheets.”
I give a quick nod. She had me for a minute, and my heart lurched at the thought of Wes “taking” her in such an intimate way—audience or not.
“I doubt you’d embarrass yourself beneath the sheets,” I assure her.
“Then what were you nodding your head for?” She leans in seductively.
“I was nodding my head because we wouldn’t make it beneath the sheets.” I hold the smile from forming on my lips. “You’d be lucky if we made it to the bed.” I almost phrased that last sentence in present tense as if it were imminently about to happen.
“We’re going to bed right now,” she teases, trying to lift me by the fingers. Her light erotic touch sends a fire line from my hand all the way down to my desperate man parts.
“You’re going to bed, Laken.” I toss the empty carton onto my desk and stretch out on the sleeping bag that’s been messing up my back the better half of the week. “I’ll be down here, flushing my football scholarship down the toilet.”
“Coop!” She slaps her hand over her mouth.
“I’m teasing. I swear they say a stiff surface does wonders for your back.” All of them bad, but I leave that part out. “Look, you’re his spirit wife now. The Counts take everything you’ve done seriously, and until we can figure a way out of this mess, I really want us to take it that way, too. I can ruin things for you. I’d hate myself if I did.”
“So—what? I belong to Wesley?”
I stare at her for a good while. Her golden hair, her perfect lips that I long to cover with mine.
“Yes, Laken.” My heart gives an unnatural thump. “I believe you do.”
On Friday night, as the clouds filter in low and cover the football field like stretched cotton, Wes jogs over before I have the chance to put on my helmet.
Here we go.
I pan the bleachers for no apparent reason. I know full well the only person I want to see is already cheering on the sidelines—and I’d like to think it’s for me.
“Hey, Coop.” Fog billows from his mouth as he digs his hands deep in his pockets. He’s wearing a thick wool coat that makes his shoulders look twice as broad as reality would have them, and for a second I wonder if he chose to wear it as a means of intimidation.
A quick pulse of laughter trembles through me at the thought of Wesley choosing his wardrobe with me in mind.
“What’s up?” I look out at the field. We’re playing Croft—a bunch of pussies who use their overinflated shoulder pads as a means of intimidation much like the one standing before me.
“The Spectators are up, Coop.” He takes a step in until our elbows touch. “The Counts want them gone.”
“I don’t see why. They haven’t caused trouble in a while.” Shit. Wes might lead Laken to the Celestra tunnels, but only the Tobias sisters are going to help us get our families out. And no Spectators, means no Tobias reunion—making their offer to get our families out of the tunnels null and void.
“It’s not up to me.” He ticks his head back. “Look, I don’t need you giving me grief. Launch a major assault. The Counts want each one of them gone by Christmas—do as you’re told.”
What the hell?
“Most of them have been gone for eons, and now, just like that, I’m supposed to hunt them down and kill them. And, by the way, how the heck do you expect me to do that? My bare hands?”
Wes glares right through me with a look of pure evil.
“You’re a smart guy, Coop. Always getting what you set your mind to.” The words hang like a vulture as it circles its prey. “I don’t care what you kill them with. You can use yourself as weapon and detonate in their midst. Just get the damn job done.” He stalks off, blending into the crowd.
I turn to find Laken staring right at me, her face rife with curiosity.
The opposing team floods the field.
Coach motions me over. Not being one to break with tradition, I run past the cheerleaders, and we exchange high-fives until I get to Laken and linger for a moment.
Counts want the Spectators dead—every single