I shake my head and gaze down at Roman’s shirt, my heart sinking when I look at the stain that runs across it, when I think of Roman’s sad, pathetic life, and what’s now become of his soul. Knowing I was so close, so close, to reaching him, to making a difference, to getting what I want—and now this.
Everything lost in an instant.
“Ever—” Jude pleads, the sting of my words conveyed in his voice, in his eyes, as he moves toward me, his hands reaching, but I won’t let him get close, won’t let him touch me. “How can you even say that?” he asks, finally stopping, conceding defeat. “I do love you. You know that. I’ve loved you for centuries, it’s true. But I didn’t intentionally set out to do this—to keep you from Damen in this way. You mean too much to me to ever do that, I value your happiness, like I told you before. And when you do finally make your choice, choose between us, I want it to be fair. This time, I’m determined that it be fair.”
“But I’ve already chosen,” I say, my voice now a whisper. I just don’t have it in me to fight anymore. Rising from the bed, still clutching the shirt, when Haven comes in and catches me like that.
Eyes blazing as she surveys the scene, instantly filling in the blanks and putting the pieces together when she sees Roman’s shirt in my hand.
“What’ve you done?” she says, voice so low, so menacing, it sends a chill down my spine. “What the hell have you done?”
She snatches the shirt, grasping it against her lace-covered chest as her eyes rake over me, assuming I’m to blame, and ignoring Jude when he tries to step in and assume full responsibility.
“I should’ve known.” She shakes her head, eyes narrowed to slits. “Should’ve known all along—when you came over to my house and tried to play nice—you weren’t even the least bit sincere—you were using me, playing me, pumping me for information—trying to see when I’d be gone, so you could get him alone and then—and then kill him.”
“It’s not what you think!” I cry. “It’s not like that at all!” But no matter how many times I repeat it, it doesn’t penetrate. She’s made up
her mind, about me, about Jude, about everything that’s happened here tonight.
“Oh, it’s exactly what I think.” She glares, hands clutching her shiny, black leather-clad hips. “Exactly. And trust me, Ever, you won’t get away with it. Not this time. You’re done interfering in my life. You’re done robbing me of the people I hold dear. This is war. Absolute war. I’m gonna make your life so miserable, you’re gonna wish your only problem was that you can’t touch your boyfriend. Cuz make no mistake—you’ve never seen anything like I’ve got coming for you.” She lifts her brow and flashes her teeth. “And Jude?” She spins on her heel, acknowledging him for the first time since she arrived. “You’re gonna wish you were immortal, because after tonight, there’s no way you’ll ever be able to withstand what’s headed your way.”
thirty-five
“So, it worked,” Damen says, his voice sounding soft, faraway. “It really did exist.”
I take a deep breath and gaze down at my knees, my feet curled up on the soft leather seat, remembering how he found me just as I was leaving Roman’s, Jude following behind, as Haven continued to scream a full litany of threats from the door. Arriving at the scene just seconds after the movie let out. Not even bothering to stop by the Montage where I’d planned for us to meet, sensing there was trouble from the moment he read my message.
I nod, gazing up at my house and remembering that triumphant moment when it all came together—when the antidote was as good as mine. Only to have it all fall apart.
Our dreams snatched right out from under us in one horrible instant.
I shake my head and sigh, knowing tomorrow morning I’ll have to face Sabine. Have to come clean about my job, my psychic abilities, my moonlighting as Avalon—and reminiscing about a few hours earlier when I thought that was the worst of my problems.
“It really and truly did work,” I say, meeting Damen’s gaze, not just wanting but needing for him to believe it. “He had the antidote, he showed it to me and everything. It was so—so small—just this tiny glass vial filled with sparkly, green liquid.” I shrug. “And then he stuck it in his pocket and—” I swallow hard, no need to relive the rest. Not verbally anyway. Not when the scene keeps replaying again and again in my head.
He frowns, having already viewed it almost as many times as me. “And then Jude busted in.” He sighs and shakes his head. Gaze grim, jaw clenched in a way I’ve never seen before. “Why did you trust him? Why’d you confide our weak-nesses—our chakras—how to get to us? Why would you do something like that?” He looks at me, desperate to understand.
I swallow hard, swallow past the big, dry lump now blocking my throat, thinking: Well, there it is—the blame I’ve been seeking all along. He’s finally judging me—but this time, it’s more for what Jude’s done than what I’ve done.
But when I look at him again, I see that isn’t it. He’s simply trying to make sense of it all. But still, I just shrug and say, “It’s my fifth chakra. My weak link. I suck at discernment, misuse information, and, apparently, trust all the wrong people in place of those who’ve been faithful all along.” I peer at Damen, knowing he requires more, deserves more, bowing my head as I add, “And the truth is, he caught me in a weak moment—” I pause, remembering just how weak that moment truly was—how close I came to crossing the bridge that leads to the other side. And though I told Damen all about the magick, and how I turned to Jude before him, I failed to tell him that part, mostly because I was too ashamed. “An incredibly weak moment.” I sigh. “What can I say?”
Damen turns, his leather seat squeaking, as he looks at me. “And here I was hoping you’d learn to trust me enough to turn to me in weak moments, not Jude.” His voice so quiet, so solemn, it breaks my heart to hear the words spoken out loud.
I close my eyes and lean back against the headrest, feeling the threat of tears as I whisper, “I know. I should’ve told you. But despite all your assurances, despite what you told me, I just didn’t believe it—couldn’t believe it. I didn’t think I deserved it. And, Damen, if you think you know the worst of it, well, think again. I’m afraid it gets much worse—”
I turn, turn until I’m facing him, and press my palms flat against his cheeks. Aware of the energy veil now dancing between us, allowing for that almost feel of his skin, and knowing this is it—this is as good as it ever will get. I’m all out of options—we’re out of options. Roman is dead and he took the antidote with him. Then I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and share everything. Every single horrible and humiliating moment revealed—flowing from my mind to his. Airing the unedited version, that awful night with Roman when I almost lost my virginity, followed by the scene at the Bridge of Souls—every horrible second revealed in all its high-definition, degrading glory. Knowing he deserves to know the truth about me—what I was, where I’ve been—and who I am now. The whole sordid journey.
And when it’s over, he just shrugs, covering my hands with his as he says, “There’s nothing there that changed my mind about you. Not one single thing.”
I nod, knowing that’s true. I finally get it. What true and unconditional love really is.
“Ever,” he says, voice urgent, gaze fixed on mine, “you need to reframe how you see yourself and the choices you’ve made.”
I squint, not quite understanding.
“What you view as these huge glaring mistakes—well, they aren’t mistakes at all. The reality is nothing like you’ve chosen to see it. You think you’ve done this terrible thing by feeding me Roman’s elixir, when the truth is—you saved my life! You spared me from the Shadowland! I wouldn’t have lasted ’til Romy got back, despite the magick circle Rayne made. I was hovering in and out of consciousness. Not quite here, not quite there, and if you hadn’t’ve done what you did when you did—if you’d refused to let me drink—well, I would’ve perished and my soul would’ve been lost, stranded, left to drift in darkness and solitude for all of eternity.”
I look at him, my eyes wide, never having thought of that. I’d been so busy beating myself up, focusing on how we can no longer really touch in the way that we want, I failed to realize I’d actually spared his soul from that infinite abyss.