Roman is here.
The rest is just details.
Miles screws his lips to the side and runs his fingers through his short dark hair. “Oh no, there was no guest list—just a random group of people who started stopping by around noon and haven’t stopped yet. And just so you know, I know all about you and Haven, so—”
“Excuse me?” I study him closely, peering at his aura, its usual well-meaning yellow now tinged with a conflicted gray.
He looks at me, pursing his lips and shaking his head when he says, “Listen, I know all about it, she told me. And while I wish I could stick around and help you two work it out—”
“What did she say? What were her exact words?” I ask, my gaze fixed on Miles as Damen grips my waist tighter, both of us on high alert, watching as he shakes his head, and mimes a zipper being pulled across his mouth.
“Oh no, don’t even go there. Seriously, Ever, don’t even try. All I know is that you’re no longer talking. As for the rest—I’m Switzerland. Totally neutral. I refuse to get involved. Because the truth is, I really don’t wish I could stick around to fix it. I was just being nice. I can’t wait to get to Florence and leave you guys here to work it out on your own. And you better work it out too, because I will not be forced to choose sides when I get back. I mean, you may have the advantage since you give me rides to school and all, but still, I’ve known Haven longer, and that’s gotta count for something, right?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as though the whole mess is just too much to process.
“Miles, that’s all well and good, but I’m afraid it’s imperative we know exactly what it is Haven told you.” Damen’s voice is low, urgent, filled with intent, making it clear, or at least to me anyway, that if Miles doesn’t fess up, he’s just seconds away from breaking our vow to never spy on our friends’ private thoughts and peer right inside his head to see for himself. “It won’t get back to her if that’s what you’re worried about, but I’m afraid we must know.”
Miles looks at him, heaving a dramatic sigh and rolling his eyes “Et tu, Damen?” he says, glancing between us, clearly unhappy with the peer pressure we’re inflicting on him. “Fine, I’ll tell you, but only because this time tomorrow I’m out of here—sailing through the clouds at thirty thousand feet, watching movies I’ve already seen and filling up on high-sodium food that’s sure to bloat me. But just remember, no matter how ugly it gets, you asked for it.” He looks at us, pausing dramatically, face gone all serious when he says, “She told me you guys are determined to keep her from Roman, because, and remember, these are her words not mine so don’t shoot the messenger, but basically she thinks you’re jealous. Well, not really you, Damen, but Ever for sure. She thinks Ever’s jealous because, again, her words.” He clears his throat, striving for just the right raspy-voiced, Haven inflection. “I’m finally coming into my own and Ever can’t stand the fact that she’s no longer the special one.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. And even though I feel bad that we made him repeat it, I’m also secretly thrilled that it isn’t at all what I thought. She may hate me, but she’s still managed to keep her immortality to herself—at least for now anyway.
Damen nods, coolly, calmly, but I can tell he’s relieved too. And I just look at Miles, shrugging casually when I say, “Wow. I’m really sorry to hear that.”
But the truth is, I’ve already moved on. That strange magick is stirring inside me, causing my heart to race, my palms to sweat, as that restless, twitchy feeling takes over again. And all I want to do is ditch these two as fast as I can so I can find him. Roman. I’ve got an uncontrollable hunger that needs to be fed, no matter the cost to me or my friends.
I swallow hard, taking slow measured breaths and struggling to steady myself. Clinging to the small glimmer of sanity that’s managed to remain despite the battle that rages around it.
“So, there you have it. A good old-fashioned girl fight.” Miles shrugs. “Too bad I’m not the type to appreciate that
kind of thing—though you might.”
He motions toward Damen, but Damen’s quick to dispel it. “I assure you, I got over that type of thing a long time ago.” He nods, a brief flash of sorrow crossing over his face, a memory of Drina and me that’s here and gone before I can blink.
Miles nods, glancing between us when he adds, “Though she is right about one thing—”
Damen shifts ever so slightly, on high alert for whatever that might be, while I stand beside him, nervous, fidgety, only wishing he’d come to me.
“She really is looking pretty smokin’ these days. I mean, I don’t know if it’s her new, post-apocalyptic, rock ’n’ roll gypsy look she’s got going, or what. But it’s like she’s finally finding herself, coming into her own like she said, you know? And after being so lost for so long, it’s got to be a pretty heady feeling to finally gain a little self-empowerment, so try to cut her some slack, okay? She’ll come around. Eventually. But for now, I think we should just sit back and try not to take it personally. Or at least you guys should, because me—I’m headed for Florence—did I mention that?”
I nod, automatically, robotically, rearranging my face into what I hope comes off as a pleasant expression. Hoping everything about me appears pleasant, friendly, and completely agreeable, because inside, I’m stirring, burning, and there’s no way in hell I’m gonna let her enjoy that ride if it involves bringing Roman along.
No.
Way.
But I don’t say that. I don’t say a word. I just shrug as though it hardly concerns me, as I continue to survey the room. Just biding my time until my favorite blue-eyed, blond-haired golden boy appears.
“So I guess what I’m trying to say is that no matter what happens between you guys, I’m not choosing sides, which also means you’re all equally welcome here. But that doesn’t mean I invited her entourage to stop by—Haven came up with that all on her own. Because honestly, don’t tell her I said so, but Roman’s kind of—” He frowns and stares off into space, searching for just the right word, before shaking his head and starting again. “Well—whatever—let’s just say there’s something kind of—off about him—something kind of—strange. I don’t really know how to explain it, but it’s kind of the same feeling I had with Drina.”
His gaze switches between us, searching for confirmation that he really is onto something, but even though my attentions are elsewhere, Damen and I are united in this, standing side by side—a wall of nonchalance he cannot penetrate.
“Anyway.” He shrugs. “He makes her happy, and that’s all that matters. I mean, it’s not like we can stop it, right?”
Oh, you have no idea. I narrow my gaze and press my lips together, struggling to keep it contained.
“I mean, seriously . . .”
Miles yammers on and on as I take the opportunity to peer into his head. Dipping in ever so slightly and taking a quick peek around, sensing his excitement for his trip, his anxiety at leaving Holt, and absolutely no knowledge whatsoever of rogues, immortals, or anything else of the sort.
“. . . so basically you have eight weeks—two whole months to get it cleared up. And I’m counting on you, Ever, since we all know how stubborn Haven can be. I mean, I love her and all, but let’s face it, she loves to be right more than anyone I know—and will fight to the absolute death to defend herself—even when she’s dead wrong.”
I nod, having already popped back out of his head and renewed my vow to never do it again. Watching as Damen reaches into his pocket and retrieves a piece of paper folded into a neat little square—a note he probably manifested just a second before.