Dark Flame (Immortals 4)

“So what if I was, mate? So what if I was?” He rubs his hands across his brow, then turns to me when he says, “If you must know, I was trying to find Drina. You know you’re not the only one around here with—abilities.”

I swallow hard, already well aware of that, already guessing the answer to my next question when I ask, “And—did you see her?” Willing to bet that he didn’t, especially knowing what I know about the Shadowland.

He looks at me, face bearing a fleeting expression of pain when he says, “No. I didn’t. Okay? Satisfied? But someday I will. You can’t keep us apart forever, you know? Despite what you’ve done—I’ve got every intention of finding her.”

I take a deep breath, thinking: Oh, I hope not. You are not going to like it there. And feeling terrible for the times I tricked him into thinking I was her—even though I wasn’t in the driver’s seat when it happened.

But I don’t say that. In fact, I don’t say anything. I just continue to stand there, collecting my thoughts, my words, myself, waiting for just the right moment to begin.

“Roman, listen, I—” I shake my head and start over, telling myself I can do this, summoning my strength from somewhere down deep when I look right at him and say, “This isn’t what you think. I’m not here to seduce you, or play games with you, or taunt you, or try to get something from you, or at least not in the way that you think. I’m here to—”

“To get the antidote.” He picks his feet up off the floor and plops them back down on his rumpled bed. Arms folded, blocking his chest as he leans back against his silk-covered headboard and squints. “I’ll say one thing, Ever, you’re persistent if nothing else. How many more times are you planning to do this? Every time you come over here you have a new plan of attack, a new agenda in mind, and yet, every single time you fail to make the score even though I’ve provided you ample opportunity to do so. Makes one wonder if you really do want it. Maybe you only think that you want it, but your subconscious won’t allow it, since it knows your real truth. Your deep—dark—truth.” His eyes glint on mine, wanting me to know that he knows about the monster, and just how amusing he finds it. “And, sorry, luv, but I have to ask, how does Damen feel about all these little visits of yours? I reckon he can’t be too pleased about that, or the fact that Miles is about to become privy to yet another one of his secrets. He’s got many, you know. Secrets you haven’t even yet begun to uncover—stuff you can’t even imagine—”

I nod, calmly, sincerely, refusing to let his words get to me. I’m just not that girl anymore.

“So tell me, does he know you’re here now?”

“No.” I shrug.

“He doesn’t.” But when I think of the text that I sent him, just before I got out of my car and made my way in, I know it won’t be long until he does know. As soon as he comes out of the movie with Ava and the twins, he’ll check his messages, see my plans to meet him at the Montage, and he’ll know. But for now, nope, not a clue.

“I see.” He nods, his eyes grazing over me. “Well, at least you took the time to clean yourself up. In fact, you’re looking better than ever—radiant—kind of glowy even. Tell me, Ever, what’s your secret?”

“Meditation.” I smile. “You know, cleansing, centering, focusing on the positive—stuff like that.” I shrug, continuing to stand my ground as he erupts into a bout of shouldershaking, eye-squinching laughter.

Allowing the hysterics to die down when he says, “That ol’ Damen’s got you trekking the Himalayas too, eh?” He tilts his head and takes me in. “That ol’ bugger, he never learns. And a lot of good it does him.”

“Well, excuse me for saying so, but weren’t you just meditating?”

“Not like that, luv. No, not like that, I wasn’t.” He shakes his head. “You see, my way is different. I was reaching out to one person in particular—not calling upon some made-up, universal, all-is-one nonsense. Don’t you get it, Ever? This is it. Right here, right now.” He pats the rumpled sheets beside him. “This is our paradise, our heaven, our nirvana, our Shangri-la—whatever you want to call it.” His brow shoots up as his tongue wets his lips. “This is it. And I mean that both figuratively and literally. It’s all we got, and you’re wasting your time seeking anything more. Now, granted, you’ve got plenty of time to waste, I’ll give you that, but still, it’s such a shame to see the way you choose to spend it. That Damen’s a bad influence, I tell you.” He pauses, as though taking a moment to consider. “So, what do you say? Shall we try it again? I mean, you come here looking like that, and, well, seeing as I heal quickly and all, I’m apt to forgive you for the last time, let bygones be bygones and all that. Just don’t try any fast moves or make me think you’re Drina again and we’re good to go. You’ve pulled some cold stuff the last few times, though, funny thing, I think it just made me like you even more. So, what do you say?” He smiles, tossing a pillow aside to make room for me as he cocks his head, flashes his tattoo, and gazes at me in that mesmerizing way.

But this time, it doesn’t work. Even though I move toward him, toward the anticipatory gleam in his eye, it’s not for the reason he thinks.

“I’m not here for that,” I say, watching as he shrugs, like he couldn’t care less either way.

Head bent forward, inspecting his perfectly buffed and manicured nails when he says, “Then just what are you here for? Come on, get on with it already, Haven’ll drop by eventually, soon as her concert is over, and I don’t think either of us needs a scene like that again.”

“I’ve no plans to hurt Haven.” I shrug. “I’ve no plans to hurt you either. I’m merely here to appeal to your higher self, that’s all.”

He gapes, eyes searching my face for the joke he’s sure that I’m hiding.

“I know you have one. A higher self. In fact, I know all about you. I know all about your past, how your mother died in labor, how your father beat and then abandoned you—I know it all—I—”

“Bloody hell,” he says, blue eyes wide, voice so soft, so stunned, I almost missed it. “Nobody knows about that—how the hell did you—?”

But I just shrug, the how doesn’t matter. “And after knowing all that, I find that I can no longer hate you. I just don’t. It’s not in me.”

He stares at me, eyes narrowed, full of skepticism. Returning to his usual bravado when he says, “Of course you do, luv, you love to hate me, that’s just what you do. In fact, you love to hate me so much, I’m all you can think about.” He smiles, nodding as though he’s onto me, like he’s known all along.

But I just shake my head, perching on the edge of his bed when I say, “While that used to be true, it’s not anymore. And the only reason I came here is to tell you how sorry I am for what happened to you. I really, truly am.”

He averts his gaze, clenching his jaw and kicking at the blanket when he says, “Well, you bloody well shouldn’t be! There’s only one thing you have to be sorry for, luv, and that’s what you did to Drina. All the rest—you can spare me. I’m not the least bit interested in your misguided alms for the poor, destitute, and downtrodden. I don’t need your sympathies, darlin’. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m no longer that kid. Surely you can see that, Ever, just look at me.” He smiles and spreads his arms wide, inviting me to take a good long look at his undeniably, glorious self. “I’m at the very top of my game. Have been for centuries now.”

“And that’s just it.” I lean toward him. “You view it all as one big game—as though life is the board and you’re the piece that always needs to stay three steps ahead of all the others. You never let your guard down, never allow yourself to get close to anyone—and you have no idea how to love or how to be loved, since love was never given to you. I mean, sure you could’ve made different choices, and there’s no doubt you should’ve, but still it’s kind of hard to offer what you’ve never had, what you’ve never experienced for yourself, and I forgive you for that.”

“What is this?” He glares at me. “Amateur hour? You gonna send me a bill for your ridiculous psychobabblings? Is that it?”

“No,” I say, my voice quiet, my gaze fixed on his. “I’m just trying to tell you that it’s over. I refuse to fight you anymore. I choose to love you and accept you instead. Whether you like it or not.”