“Science is just now catching up with what metaphysicians and the
great spiritual teachers have known for centuries. Everything is energy. Everything is one.”
I can hear the smile in his voice as he draws closer, eager to entwine his fingers with mine. But I move away quickly, catching his eye just long enough to see the look of hurt that crosses his face—the same look he’s been giving me since I made him drink the antidote that returned him to life. Wondering why I’m acting so quiet, so distant, so remote—refusing to touch him when just a few weeks before I couldn’t get enough. Incorrectly assuming it’s because of his hurtful behavior—his flirting with Stacia, his cruelty toward me—when the truth is, it has nothing to do with that. He was under Roman’s spell, the entire school was. It wasn’t his fault.
What he doesn’t know is that while the antidote returned him to life, the moment I added my blood to the mix it also ensured we could never be together.
Never.
Ever.
For all of eternity.
“Ever?” he whispers, voice deep and sincere. But I can’t look at him. Can’t touch him. And I certainly can’t utter the words he deserves to hear:
I messed up—I’m so sorry—Roman tricked me, and I was desperate and dumb enough to fall for his ploy—And now there’s no hope for us because if you kiss me, if we exchange our DNA—you’ll die—
I can’t do it. I’m the worst kind of coward. I’m pathetic and weak. And there’s just no way I can find it within me.
“Ever, please, what is it?” he asks, alarmed by my tears. “You’ve been like this for days. Is it me? Is it something I’ve done? Because you know I don’t remember much of what happened, and the memories that are starting to surface, well, you must know by now that wasn’t the real me. I would never intentionally hurt you. I’d never harm you in any way.”
I hug myself tightly, scrunching my shoulders and bowing my head. Wishing I could make myself smaller, so small he could no longer see me. Knowing his words are true, that he’s incapable of hurting me, only I could do something so hurtful, so rash, so ridiculously impulsive. Only I could be stupid enough to fall for Roman’s bait. So eager to prove myself as Damen’s one true love—wanting to be the only one who could save him—and now look at the mess that I’ve made.
He moves toward me, sliding his arm around me, grasping my waist and pulling me near. But I can’t risk the closeness, my tears are lethal now, and must be kept far from his skin.
I scramble to my feet and run toward the ocean, curling my toes at its edge and allowing the cold white froth to splash onto my shins. Wishing I could dive under its vastness and be carried by the tide. Anything to avoid saying the words—anything to avoid telling my one true love, my eternal partner, my soul mate for the last four hundred years, that while he may have given me eternity—I’ve brought us our end.
I remain like that, silent and still. Waiting for the sun to sink until I finally turn to face him. Taking in his dark shadowy outline, nearly indistinguishable from the night, and speaking past the sting in my throat when I mumble, “Damen . . . baby . . . there’s something I need to tell you.”
two
I kneel beside him, hands on my knees, toes buried in sand, wishing he’d look at me, wishing he’d speak. Even if it’s only to tell me what I already know—that I made a grave and stupid mistake—one that will possibly never be erased. I’d gladly accept it—heck, I deserve it. What I can’t stand is his absolute silence and faraway gaze.
And I’m just about to say something, anything, to break this unbearable stillness, when he looks at me with eyes so weary they’re the perfect embodiment of his six hundred years. “Roman.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I didn’t recognize him, I had no idea—” His voice trails off along with his gaze.
“There’s no way you could’ve known,” I say, eager to erase any guilt he might feel. “You were under his spell from the very first day. Believe me, he had it all planned, made sure any memories were completely erased.”
His eyes search my face studying me closely before he stands and turns away. Gazing out at the ocean, hands balled into fists as he says, “Did he hurt you? Did he go after you or harm you in any way?”
I shake my head. “He didn’t have to. It was enough to hurt me through you.”
He turns, eyes growing darker as his features harden, inhaling deeply as he says, “This is my fault.”
I gape, wondering how he could possibly believe that after the case I just made. Rising to my feet and standing beside him as I cry, “Don’t be ridiculous! Of course it’s not your fault! Did you listen to anything I said?” I shake my head. “Roman poisoned your elixir and hypnotized you. You had nothing to do with it, you were just doing his bidding—it was beyond your control!”
But I’ve barely finished when he’s already dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “Ever, don’t you see? This isn’t about Roman, or you, this is karma. This is retribution for six centuries of selfish living.” He shakes his head and laughs, though it’s not the kind that asks you to join in. It’s the other kind—the kind that chills you to the bone. “After all those years of loving you and losing you, again and again, I was sure that was my punishment for the way I’d been living, having no idea you’d died at Drina’s hand. But now I see the truth I’ve missed all along. Just when I was sure I’d evaded karma by making you immortal and keeping you forever by my side, karma gets the last laugh, allowing us an eternity together, but only to look, never to touch each other again.”
I reach for him, wanting to hold him, comfort him, convince him that it’s not at all true. But I pull away just as quickly. Remembering how our inability to touch is the very thing that got us both here.
“That’s not true,” I say, gaze fixed on his. “Why would you be punished when I’m the one who made the mistake? Don’t you see?” I shake my head, frustrated by his singular way of thinking. “Roman planned it all along. He loved Drina—I bet you didn’t know that, huh? He was one of the orphans you saved from the plague back in Renaissance Florence, and he loved her for all of those centuries, would’ve done anything for her. But Drina didn’t care about him, she only loved you—and you only loved me—and then, well, after I killed her, Roman decided to go after me—only he did it through you. Wanting me to feel the pain of never being able to touch you again—just like he feels with Drina! And it all happened so fast, I just—” I stop, knowing it’s useless, a total waste of words. He stopped listening just after I started, convinced he’s at fault.
But I refuse to even visit that place, and I won’t let him either.
“Damen, please! You can’t just give up. This isn’t karma—it’s me! I made a mistake, a horrible, dreadful mistake. But that doesn’t mean we can’t fix it! There must be a way.” Clinging to the falsest of hopes, forcing an enthusiasm I don’t really feel.
Damen stands before me, a dark silhouette in the night, the warmth of his sad tired gaze serving as our only embrace. “I never should’ve started,” he says. “Never should’ve made the elixir—should’ve let things take their own natural course. Seriously, Ever, just look at the result—it’s brought nothing but pain!” He shakes his head, his gaze so sad, so contrite, my heart caves. “There’s still time for you though. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you—an eternity where you can be anything you want to be, do anything you want to do. But me—” He shrugs. “I’m tainted. I think we can all see the result of my six hundred years.”
“No!” My voice quivers as my lips tremble so badly it spreads to my cheeks. “You don’t get to walk away, you don’t get to leave me again! I spent the last month going through hell to save you, and now that you’re well I’m not about to give up. We’re meant for each other, you said it yourself! We’re just experiencing a temporary setback, that’s all. But if we can just put our heads together, I know we’ll think of a way to . . .”