Night Star (Immortals 5)

Claims he can’t risk that kind of heartbreak again.

That just because it’s happened multiple times through the centuries doesn’t make it any easier this time around.

And since I just can’t give him that yet—despite what he told me about our past life in the South, confirming my very worst suspicions that Damen bought me, removed me from my family, and turned his back on them forever so that he could have me to himself—I’m still not ready to go there.

Even after he revealed the rest of it—that shortly after Damen took me away, he, along with the rest of my family, perished in a terrible fire they never would’ve been in if only Damen had bothered to save them. Resulting in a string of tragic deaths there’s just no logical excuse for.

I mean, once his immense wealth and formidable power is taken into account, well, an act like that, an act so cold, so calculating, and so callous that ended in such tragedy—is completely inexcusable on his part.

And yet, I’m still not ready to give up on him.

Though I’m not ready to see him yet either.

But even though I’m not about to share any of that with Ava, I still just shake my head and say, “There’s a lot more to it than that.” I purposely hold her gaze.

She nods and reaches toward me, her hand grasping mine in a gentle squeeze. “I’ve no doubt about that, Ever. No doubt at all.” She pauses, making sure she has my full attention when she adds, “Just make sure you don’t do anything rash. Take the time to dig deep, to really think it through. And when in doubt, well, you know my favorite remedy—”

“Meditation,” I mumble, laughing and rolling my eyes, grateful for the burst of light she always seems to provide even in the darkest of times. Pulling her back to me when she starts to move away. Not ready to part with her just yet, my gaze practically pleading with hers when I say, “Ava, do you know something?” I grip her arm tightly, finding myself suddenly desperate for her guidance, for a few enlightened words. “Do you know something about this? About Damen, Jude, and me? About who I’m supposed to choose?”

She looks at me, her gaze soft and caring, but still she just shakes her head slowly. A lock of auburn hair falling over her forehead and into her eyes, obscuring them briefly before she pushes it away and says, “I’m afraid that’s your journey, Ever. Yours and yours alone. Only you can discover which path to take. I’m only here as your friend.”

seventeen

“Thanks for all your help.” Jude tosses a damp dish towel over his shoulder and leans against the ancient refrigerator that’s nothing like Damen’s or Sabine’s—not stainless, not the size of a walk-in closet—just old and green, with a fondness for making loud, strange, gurgling noises. His thumbs hitched in his empty belt loops, legs casually crossed at the ankle, watching as I load the last of the cups and glasses into the dishwasher, before closing the door and pressing the start button.

I reach up, removing the elastic band from my hair, allowing the waves to spill down my back, stopping just shy of my waist, while trying to ignore Jude’s intense stare. The way his eyes narrow, drinking me in, hungrily following the trail of my hands as I smooth them over the front of my dress and lift a fallen strap. His gaze lingering for so long, I know I have to break it, find a way to distract him.

“It was a nice memorial.” I meet his eyes briefly before looking away. Busying myself with tidying up the tiled counters, the white porcelain sink. “I think she would’ve liked it.”

He smiles, wads up the towel and drops it on the counter, then heads into the den and sinks onto the old brown couch, just assuming I’ll follow, which, after a moment, I do.

“Actually, she did like it.” He kicks off his flip-flops, settles his feet onto the cushions.

“So, you saw her?” I drop onto the chair just opposite him, before propping my bare feet onto the old wooden door he uses as a coffee table.

He turns, slowly looking me over, spliced brow raised in surprise. “Yeah, I saw her. Why? Did you?”

I shake my head, quick to dispel it. Fingers playing with the cluster of crystals I wear at my neck, favoring the rough stones over the more polished ones. “Ava did.” I shrug, letting go of the amulet, allowing the stones to warm up my flesh. “I’m still unable to see Lina’s kind.”

“You still trying?” He squints, sitting up briefly, grasping a small pillow by his feet and placing it behind his head before lying back again.

“No.” I sigh, my voice wistful, gaze faraway. “Not anymore. I gave all that up a while ago.”

He nods, still looking at me, though in a more thoughtful, less intense way. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t seen her either. Riley, I mean. That is who we’re talking about here, right?”

I lean my head back against the cushion and close my eyes. Remembering my adorably feisty, pain-in-the-bum little sister with the penchant for wearing crazy costumes and wigs—and hoping that wherever she is, she’s having a truly awesome time.

Pulled away from my thoughts and back toward Jude when he says, “Ever, I was thinking—” He stares up at the wood-beamed ceiling. “Now that things are starting to settle around here, well, it’s probably a good time for you to start thinking about heading back to school.”

I stiffen, allowing for only the shallowest breath.

“Turns out Lina left it all to me—the house, the store—everything. And since all the paperwork seems to be in order, I figure I can just let the lawyer take over from here, which frees me up to get back to full-time. Not to mention Ava already offered to pick up any stray hours I’m unable to cover.”

I swallow hard, but I don’t say a word. His expression tells me it’s handled, arranged, he’s got it all figured out.

“As much as I appreciate your help, and I do—” He peers at me briefly, before returning to the ceiling again. “I think it’s probably best for you to—”

But I don’t even let him finish before I’m saying, “But, really—it’s no—” Biggie—I start to say it’s really no biggie. Start to explain the conclusion I’ve recently come to regarding school, the normal life path one’s expected to follow, and me—and how they no longer mix—no longer make the least bit of sense.