“Well, I thought I’d change for the return trip home—if that’s okay with you?”
I cock my head and screw my lips to the side, carefully looking him over as I consider. “But I like you like this. You’re so handsome, so gallant—regal, really. It makes me feel like I’m looking at the real you, dressed in the period you seem to have liked best.”
He shrugs. “I liked ’em all—some better than others, but in retrospect they all had something to offer. And you, by the way, look quite dazzling too.” He trails his fingers over my jewels and down the snug-fitting bodice of my dress. “But still, if we want to fit in back home, a costume change is in order.”
I sigh, sad to see our eighteenth-century finery replaced by our usual Laguna Beach wear.
“And now—” He nods, tucking my amulet back under the neck of my dress. “What do you say—my place or yours?”
“Neither.” I press my lips together, knowing he’s not going to like what comes next but committed to being completely honest with him during the few times I can. “I need to see Jude.”
He flinches. It’s minor, barely visible to the untrained eye, but still, I see it. And I need him to know what Jude already knows: that there’s no competition. Never really was. Damen won my heart centuries ago. And he’s had it ever since.
“There was an accident.” I nod, determined to keep my voice calm, even, and just stick to the facts, no matter how gruesome. And though I could just let the scene flow from my head to his—I don’t. There are too many parts I don’t want him to see, things he might take the wrong way, so instead I say, “I—I sort of attacked him—”
“Ever!” He balks, his expression so shocked it’s all I can do not to look away.
“I know.” I shake my head, pausing to take a deep breath. “I know how it sounds, but it’s not what you think, I—I was trying to prove he was a rogue—but—well—when I learned that he wasn’t—that’s when I rushed him to the emergency room.”
“And you failed to tell me this because—” He looks at me, obviously hurt by my neglect.
I sigh, looking right at him when I say, “Because I was embarrassed. Because I mess up all the time and I didn’t want you to lose patience with me. I mean, not that I’d blame you—but still.” I shrug, scratching my arm even though it doesn’t itch, yet another nervous habit of mine.
He places his hands squarely on my shoulders, looking me right in the eye when he says, “My feelings for you are not conditional. I don’t judge you. I don’t lose patience with you. I don’t punish you. I just love you. That’s all. Pure and simple.” His eyes search my face, his gaze so warm, so loving, clearly upholding the promise of his words. “You have no reason to hide anything from me—ever. Understood? I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here for you. And if you need anything, find yourself in a bind, or in over your head, all you have to do is ask and I’ll be right there to bail you out.”
I nod, unable to speak I’m so humbled by my amazingly good fortune, feeling so incredibly lucky to be loved by someone like him—even though I’m not always sure I deserve it.
“So, you go take care of your friend, I’ll take care of the twins, and we’ll meet up tomorrow, okay?”
I lean in to kiss him, quickly, careful to let go of his hand since we’re headed in different directions. Closing my eyes long enough to envision the portal before me, that shimmering golden veil that’ll lead me back home.
I land at Jude’s door, taking a moment to knock a few times, allowing plenty of time for him to answer, before I decide to give up and go in uninvited. Searching every last room in his tiny beach cottage, including the garage and backyard, before locking up and heading straight for the store.
But on my way there, I pass Roman’s. And all it takes is one look at the window display—one look at the sign overhead, reading: RENAISSANCE!—one look at the open front door that leads directly to him—and just like that, the magick of Summerland is gone and this strange foreign pulse, this horrible invader, has taken over again.
I will myself forward, summoning every last bit of my strength to move past it. But my legs are too heavy, unwilling to cooperate, and my breath runs too shallow and comes out too quickly.
I’m rooted. Unable to flee. Overcome by this horrible need to find him—to see him—to be with him. This ugly invader taking over as though my evening of enchantment never happened. As though I was never at peace.
The beast now awakened, demanding to be fed. And despite my best efforts to get out of this place before it’s too late—it is too late. He’s come to find me.
“Well, fancy finding you here.”
Roman leans in the doorway, all golden haired and shiny teethed, his glinting blue eyes fixed right on me. “You’re looking rather—piqued. Everything all right?” His contrived British accent causing his voice to rise in a way that usually annoys me to no end, but now—now I find it so alluring it’s all I can do to stay where I am. Continuing to fight this epic battle now raging inside me—that strange, foreign pulse versus me.
He laughs, head tossed back in a way that clearly displays the Ouroboros tattoo on his neck—the snake coiling, slithering, its beady eyes seeking mine, as its long, skinny tongue beckons me near.
And despite everything I know about good and evil, right and wrong, immortals and rogues, I step forward. Taking one small step toward defeat, that’s quickly followed by another. And another. My gaze fixed on Roman—gorgeous, glorious Roman. He’s all I can see. All that I need. Only vaguely aware of that small glimmer of me, still in there somewhere—struggling, shouting, demanding to be heard—but it just can’t compete. And it’s not long before it’s silenced by the single-minded pulse now residing inside me—its sights set on only one thing.
His name swells on my lips, as I stand right before him, so close I can make out each individual violet fleck in his eyes, and feel the cool chill that emanates off his skin. The same chill I once found abhorrent, repulsive, but not anymore. Now it’s a welcome siren, calling me home.
“Always knew you’d come around.” He grins, his gaze slowly taking me in as he buries his fingers in my tangle of hair. “Welcome to the dark side, Ever, I think you’ll be quite happy here.” He laughs, the sound of it enveloping me in a delicious frostbitten hug. “Not surprised you shrugged off that old wanker Damen. Figured you’d grow tired of him eventually. All of the waiting—the angst—the gawd-awful soul searching—not to mention the do-gooding.” He shakes his head and grimaces as though the thought alone pains him. “I don’t know how you stood it for as long as you did. And for what, I might ask? Because I hate to break it to you, luv, but there are no future rewards up yonder when your future’s right here.” He stamps his foot on the ground. “A bloody waste of time, it is. No use delaying gratification when the instant kind works best. There are pleasures to be had, Ever. Pleasures of a magnitude you can’t even begin to understand. But, lucky for you, I’m the forgiving type. I’m more than willing to serve as your guide. So, tell me, where should we start, luv, your place or mine?”
His fingers trail along my cheek, my shoulder, working their way
down to the loose neck of my dress. And even though the feel of it’s icy, bracing, in the strongest sense of the word, I can’t help but lean into it, can’t help but close my eyes and immerse myself in the feel of it, urging him to scoop lower, explore further, prepared to go wherever he takes me—
“Ever? Is that you? Are you fugging kidding me?”