Evermore (Immortals 1)

"I just-'-I just feel so responsible," she mumbles, burying her face in her hands, groaning oh God, oh God, oh God, over and over again.

I move toward her, wanting to comfort her in some way, but then she lifts her head, wipes her eyes, and says, "I-I just thought you should know; but I should get going, I need to get to Drina's." She raises her hand and jangles her keys.

Hearing her say that is like fuel for the fire, and I narrow my eyes at Damen, staring accusingly. Because even though Haven's friendship with Drina seems like a fluke, I'm sure that it isn't. I can't shake the feeling it's somehow connected.

But Damen ignores me as he grabs Haven's arm and peers at her wrist. "Where'd you get that?" he says, his voice tight, controlled, but with an undercurrent of edge, reluctantly letting go as she yanks free and covers it with her hand.

"It's fine," she says, clearly annoyed. "Drina gave me something to put on it, some salve, said it would take about three days to work."

Damen clenches his jaw so tight his teeth gnash together.

"Do you happen to have it with you? This-salve?"

She shakes her head and moves for the door. "No, I left it at home. I mean, jeez, what's with you guys, anyway? Any more questions?" She turns, her eyes darting between us, her aura a bright flaming red. "Because I don't appreciate being interrogated like this. I mean, the only reason I stopped by in the first place was because I thought you might want to know about Evangeline, but since all you want to do is gawk at my tattoo and make stupid comments, I think I'll just go." She storms toward her car.

And even though I call after her, she just shakes her head and ignores me. And I can't help but wonder what happened to my friend. She's so moody, so distant, and I realize she's been lost to me for a while now. Ever since she met Drina, I feel like I hardly even know her.

I watch as she gets in her car, slams the door, and backs down the drive. Then I turn to Damen and say, "Well, that was pleasant. Evangeline's dead, Haven hates me, and you left me alone in a cave. I hope you at least caught some killer waves." I fold my arms across my chest and shake my head.

"As a matter of fact, I did," he says, gazing at me intently. "And when I returned

to the cave I saw you had left and I raced right over."

I look at him, my eyes narrowed, my lips pressed together. I can't believe he actually expects me to believe that. "Sorry, but I looked, and there were only two surfers out there. Two blond surfers, which pretty much rules out either one of them being you."

"Ever, would you look at me?" he says. "Really look at me.

How do you think I got this way?"

So I do, I lower my glare to take it all in. Noticing his wet suit that's dripping salt water all over the floor.

"But I checked. I ran up and down the beach, I looked everywhere," I say, convinced of what I saw, or in this case, didn't see.

But he just shrugs. "Ever, I don't know what to tell you, but I didn't abandon you. I was surfing. Really. Now, can you please get me a towel, and maybe another for the floor?"

We head into the backyard so he can hose down his wet suit, while I sit on the lounge chair and watch him. I was so sure he'd ditched me. I looked everywhere. But maybe I did miss him.

I mean, it is a long beach. And I was really angry.

"So how'd you know about Evangeline?" I ask, watching as he drapes his wet suit over the outdoor bar, unwilling to let go of my anger quite so easily. "And what's up with Drina and Haven and that creepy tattoo? And, just for the record, I'm not sure I buy your story about surfing, seriously. Because believe me, I checked, and you were nowhere in sight."

He looks at me, his deep dark eyes obscured by a rim of lush lashes, his lean, sinuous body wrapped in a towel. And when he moves toward me, his step is so light and sure, he's as graceful as any jungle cat. "This is my fault," he finally says, shaking his head as he sits down beside me, folding my hands into his, but then dropping them just as quickly. "I'm not sure how much… " he starts, and when he finally looks at me, his eyes are sadder than I ever could've imagined. "Maybe we shouldn't do this," he finally says.

"Are you-are you breaking up with me?" I whisper, the wind rushing right out of me, like an ill-fated balloon. All my suspicions confirmed: Drina, the beach, all of it. Everything.

"No, I just… " He turns away, leaving both the sentence, and me, to dangle.

And when it's clear he has no plans to continue I say, "You know; it would really be nice if you'd stop talking in code, finish a sentence, and tell me what the heck is going on. Because all I know is that Evangeline is dead, Haven's wrist is a red oozing mess, you ditched me at the beach because I wouldn't go all the way, and now you're breaking up with me." I glare at him, waiting for some confirmation that these seemingly random events are easily explained and not at all related. Even though my gut says otherwise.

He's silent for a while, staring at the pool, but when he finally looks at me he says, "None of it's related."

Though he hesitated for so long I'm not sure I believe him. Then he takes a deep breath and continues. "They found Evangeline's body in Malibu canyon. I was on my way here when I heard it on the radio," he says, his voice becoming sure, steady, as he visibly relaxes and regains control. "And yes, Haven's wrist does appear to be infected, but sometimes those things happen."

He breaks my gaze and I suck in my breath, waiting for the rest, the part about me. Then he grabs my hand and covers it with his, flipping it over and tracing the lines on my palm as he says, "Drina can be charismatic, charming and Haven's a bit of a lost soul. I'm sure she just likes the attention. I thought you'd be glad she transferred her affections to Drina from me." He squeezes my fingers and smiles. "Now there's no one standing between us."

"But maybe there's something standing between us?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

Knowing I should be more concerned with Haven's wrist and Evangeline's death, but unable to focus on anything other than the planes of his face, his smooth dark skin, his deep narrowed eyes, and the way my heart surges, my blood rushes, and my lips swell in anticipation of his.