I gape, eyes wide, never having seen that particular life before.
But he just smiles, gaze growing warmer as he shows me the highlights of that time, a quick clip of the moment we met—at a gallery opening in Amsterdam—our first kiss just outside of the gallery that very same night. Presenting only the most romantic moments and sparing my death, which always, inevitably, comes before we can progress.
And after watching all of those beautiful moments unfold, his unabashed love for me laid bare to see, I gaze into his eyes, answering his question when I think: Of course it’s enough. You’ve always been enough.
Then closing them in shame when I add: But am I enough for you?
Finally admitting the real truth—my fear that he’ll soon tire of the gloved hand-holding, the telepathic embrace, and seek out the real thing in a normal girl with safe DNA.
He nods, gloved fingers cupping my chin as he gathers me into a mental embrace so warm, so safe, so comforting, all of my fears slip away. Answering the apology in my gaze as he leans forward, lips at my ear as he says, “Good. Now that that’s settled, about Roman . . .”
four
As I make my way toward history class I’m wondering which will be worse—seeing Roman or Mr. Munoz? Because while I haven’t seen or spoken to either of them since last Friday when my whole world fell apart—there’s no doubt I left them both on a pretty strange note. My last contact with Munoz consisting of me going all sentimental and not only confiding my psychic powers—which is something I never do—but also encouraging him to date my aunt Sabine—which is something I’m seriously beginning to regret. And as awful as that was, it’s only rivaled by my last moments with Roman when I aimed my fist at his navel chakra, determined not just to kill him but to obliterate him completely. And I would have too—except for the fact that I totally choked and he got away. And even though in retrospect that probably worked out for the best, I’m still so angry with him, who’s to say I won’t try again?
But the truth is, I know I won’t try again. And not just because Damen spent the whole of English class telepathically lecturing me on how revenge is never the answer, how karma is the one and only true justice system, and plenty more blah blah blah like that—but mostly because it’s not right. Despite the fact that Roman tricked me in the very worst way, leaving me absolutely no reason to ever trust him again—I still don’t have the right to kill him. It won’t solve my problem. Won’t change a thing. Even though he’s awful, evil, and everything that adds up to bad, I still don’t have the right to—
“Well there’s my cheeky monkey!”
He slithers up beside me, all blond tousled hair, ocean blue eyes, and shiny white teeth, leisurely stretching his strong, tanned arm across the classroom door, barring me from getting inside.
And that’s all it takes. The grating purr of his contrived British accent and the complete creepiness of his leering gaze, and just like that I’m tempted to kill him again.
But I won’t.
I promised Damen I could get myself safely to and from class without resorting to that.
“So tell me, Ever, how was your weekend? Did you and Damen enjoy a nice reunion? Was he able to—survive you—by chance?”
I clench my fists by my sides, imagining how he’d look as nothing more than a heap of designer clothes and a pile of dust, despite the vow of nonviolence I took.
“Because if not, if you failed to heed my advice and took that old dinosaur out for a ride, then I suppose my deepest condolences are in order.” He nods, gaze fixed on mine, lowering his voice as he adds, “Not to worry though, you won’t be alone for long. Once the proper mourning period ends, I’ll be happy to step in and fill up the void his extinction has left.”
I focus on my breath, keeping it slow and steady as I take in the strong, tan, muscular arm blocking my path, knowing all it would take is one well-placed karate chop to break it in half.
“Hell, even if you did manage to hold back and keep him alive, all you have to do is say the word, and I’m right by your side.” He grins, eyes grazing over me in the most intimate way. “But no need to answer too quickly or commit yourself yet. Take as long as you like. Because, Ever, I assure you, unlike Damen, I’m a man who can wait. Besides, it’s just a matter of time before you come looking for me anyway.”
“There’s only one thing I want from you.” I narrow my gaze until everything surrounding us blurs. “And that’s for you to leave me alone.” Heat rising to my cheeks as his gaze deepens to a leer.
“’Fraid not, darlin’.” He laughs, looking me over and shaking his head. “Trust me, you want way more than that. But not to worry, it’s like I said, I’ll wait for as long as it takes. It’s Damen I’m worried about. And you should worry too. From what I saw those last six hundred years, he’s an impatient man. Bit of a hedonist really. Didn’t wait for much of anything so far as I could tell.”
I swallow hard and strive to keep calm, reminding myself not to fall for his bait. Roman has a knack for locating my weakness, my psychological kryptonite so to speak, and pretty much lives to exploit it.
“Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been one to keep up appearances—wearing the black armband, appearing inconsolable at the wake—but trust me, Ever, the moss hadn’t time to adhere to his shoe before he was back on the prowl.
Looking to drown his sorrows in whatever or—should I say whomever—he could. And even though you prefer not to believe it, take it from someone who’s been there all along. Damen waits for no one. And he certainly never waited for you.”
I take a deep breath, filling my head with words, music, mathematical equations stretching far beyond my abilities, anything to drown out the words that are like carefully honed arrows aimed straight for my heart.
“Yep. Sawr it wit me own eyes, I did!” Smiling as he slips into a thick cockney brogue and back out again. “Drina saw it too. Broke her poor heart. Though, unlike me—and, I’m afraid, quite unlike you—Drina’s love was unconditional. Willing to take him back no matter where he’d been, no questions asked. Which, let’s face it, is something you’d never do.”
“That’s not true!” I cry, voice hoarse, dry, as though it’s the first time I’ve used it all day. “I’ve had Damen since the moment we met—I—” I stop, knowing I shouldn’t have started. It’s useless to engage in this fight.
“Sorry, darlin’, but you’re wrong. You’ve never had Damen at all. A chaste kiss here, a bit of sweaty hand-holding there—” He shrugs, gaze mocking. “Seriously, Ever, you think some pathetic attempts at second base can actually satisfy a greedy, narcissistic, self-indulgent bloke like him? For four hundred years no less?”
I swallow hard, forcing a calm I don’t own when I say, “That’s a lot further than you ever got with Drina.”
“No thanks to you,” he spits, harsh gaze on mine. “But, it’s like I said, I’m a man who can wait. Damen is not.” He shakes his head. “Shame you’re so determined to play hard to get. You and I are a lot more alike than you think. Both of us pining after someone we’ll never truly have—”