“You kicking me out?” I lower the pil ow to my bel y, turn on my side, and wrap my arms around it, as though it’l shield me from whatever comes next.
“No!” He’s quick to shake his head. Fingers raking through his tangle of hair, making sense of it, pushing it back into place. Gazing at me with a look of outright astonishment when he says, “Why would I do that?” His hand returns to his side, settles by his leg. “I love going to bed with you, just as much as I love waking up with you. I thought you knew that?”
“Are you sure?” I venture, reading the dismay in his gaze. “I mean, it’s not too frustrating? You know, the two of us sleeping with each other, without being able to real y and truly sleep with each other?” I press my lips together, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.
“The only thing I find frustrating is you trying to hide under a pil ow in order to avoid talking about Sabine.”
I close my eyes, al owing my fingers to mindlessly pick at the pil owcase seam, aware of my mood shifting, changing, slipping to the opposite side of his, and hoping I can stop it before it goes too far, divides us too much.
“There’s nothing to say. She thinks I’m crazy. I think I’m not. Or at least not in the way that she thinks.” I peer at him, trying to insert a little levity, but it slides right past him. He’s taking this far too seriously. “Anyway, she’s so entirely sold on her opinion that my only real choice is to agree with it, or go away. That’s the choice she presented me with. And yeah, while I freely admit that it hurts, hurts in a way that goes pretty dang deep, there’s stil this part of me that can’t help but think maybe it’s for the better. You know?”
His eyes narrow, thinking, weighing, before he folds his arms across his chest, causing his muscles to twitch and then settle. “No, I don’t know. Why don’t you explain it to me?”
“Wel , it’s like you always say: I’l have to say my good-byes eventual y—sooner rather than later. I mean, according to you, that’s pretty much a given, right? So what’s the point of making peace, of insisting on hanging around for a few more months, when I’l have to split soon anyway? You said so yourself; it won’t be long before she catches on—before everyone catches on. She’l see that neither one of us has aged, not even a day. And since there’s no logical way to explain something like that, and since Sabine’s a person who expects nothing less than absolute black-and-white logic, wel , there’s real y not much more to say on the subject, is there?”
We exchange a look, and although I’ve hit al the points, including the ones that original y came from him, it’s clear he needs more.
He’s stil not convinced of why I shouldn’t get out of bed, march myself over there, and try to make peace. Which means he’s either being incredibly stubborn, or I’ve failed to make my case, or both.
“It’s like, why delay the inevitable?” I swal ow hard and hug the pil ow again. “I mean, maybe this whole thing happened for a reason.
You know how I’ve been dreading the good-bye,
and so, now that this has happened, maybe it’l just make it easier—maybe this is just the solution I’ve been looking for al this time— maybe this is like a gift from the universe?” The words coming so quickly, I pause to catch my breath, though one look in his eyes makes it clear he’s stil not riding tandem with me. So I decide to switch gears, try another approach, hoping this one might work a little better. “Tel me, Damen, tel me for reals, in al of your years, with al of your arrivals and departures, so to speak, did you never once pick a fight, or even use a fight as a reason to leave?”
“Of course I did.” He averts his gaze, fingers picking at the waistband of his black cotton briefs. “On more than one occasion, I assure you. But that doesn’t mean it was the right thing to do.”
I fal quiet, having nothing more to add. Squinting as he turns to adjust the shutters, welcoming a dul slant of light from what appears to be a very gray, sunless, mid-December day.
“Maybe you’re right.” He studies the scenery. “Maybe this wil make for the cleanest break. It’s not like you can tel her the truth. It’d be like fuel to her fire. She wouldn’t accept it. And if by some miracle she did, wel , then, she’d be quick to condemn it. And the worst part is, she’d be right. What I’ve done—what I’ve made you—it’s unnatural. It goes against every law of nature.” He pauses, turns back to me, a look of true regret marring his gaze. “If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that we are not living the life that was intended. Our bodies are immortal, true, but our souls clearly are not. Our lives flaunt the most fundamental laws of nature. We are the opposite of what we were meant to be.”
I start to speak up, start to say something, if for no other reason than the fact that I hate to see him this way. But he won’t let me. He’s far from finished. Stil got a few more points he’s determined to make.
“If nothing else, the Shadowland has assured me of that. You were there, Ever, twice if I remember—the first time, through me, and more recently, because of Haven. So tel me, can you deny what I’ve said? Can you deny that it’s true?”
I take a deep breath, thinking about that horrible day when Haven slammed her fist right into my throat. Right into the sweet spot—my fifth chakra—the center for a lack of discernment, misuse of information, and trusting al the wrong people. One solid punch was al it took to kil me, to end me, to send me crashing, reeling, spinning into that horrible dark oblivion. The abyss. The home for immortals’
souls. Remembering how I’d swirled through the blackness, lost in the void, taunted by a never-ending stream of images of al my past lives. Forced to relive the mistakes that I’d made, al the misguided decisions, the wrongs I’d committed—feeling others’ pain as intensely as my own. Finding my way out only when the truth was final y revealed. Spared from an eternity of deep isolation when I was left with no doubt in my mind that Damen was The One.
My soul mate.
My one and only for al of eternity.
The sudden revelation along with my complete and total declaration, acknowledging the truth of Damen and me, of our love, is the only thing that healed me, absolved me.
The only thing that freed me of the burden of my weak chakra.
The only reason I’m sitting here now.
I nod, having nothing to add. He knows what I saw, what I experienced, just as clearly as if he were there.
“It’s just you and me, Ever. We have only each other. A prospect that may be more appealing to me than you, but only because I’ve grown used to a lone wolf existence.”
“We have Miles,” I say, quick to remind Damen how he’s now in on our immortal secret. “And Jude.” My breath stal s, stil feeling a little weird about mentioning him in Damen’s presence, despite them recently deciding to bury the past and start fresh. “So, it’s not like we’re total y without friends, right?”
But he just shrugs, reflecting on the part I failed to mention, the part that’s too painful to utter. The fact that someday, Miles and Jude wil be old and gray-haired, eating early-bird dinners and looking forward to a rousing game of shuffleboard, while Damen and I wil be exactly the same, completely unchanged.
“I guess I just hate to see you and Sabine end it this way,” he final y says, gaze like an unexpressed sigh. “But maybe you’re right, maybe it’s as good a way as any. Seeing that it’s inevitable and al .”