Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(17)
I shake my head, having already gotten all the answers I needed when I nicked him on the sidewalk a few hours before. But now, maybe it’s time I share a few truths of my own—or at least lead him toward the truth and see if he drinks.
“You know, there’s a reason why you and Damen don’t care for each other—” I venture, biting down on my lip, not yet decided just how far I’ll take it.
“Ah—so it’s mutual.” His gaze meets mine, holding it for so long, I’m the first to break away. Studying the threadworn rug at my feet, the scarred wood table before me, the large citrine geode propped up in the corner, wondering why on earth I started this, and just about to speak when he says, “No worries.” He struggles to kick the blanket over his feet but doesn’t quite make it. “No need to explain, no need to—worry. It’s just your everyday, garden-variety guy thing. You know, the kind of primal competition that takes place whenever there’s one absolutely amazing girl and two guys who desperately want her. And since only one of us can win—excuse me—since only one of us has won—I’ll just wander back to my cave, bang my club against the wall a few times, and lick my wounds where no one can see.” He closes his eyes, voice lowered when he adds, “Trust me, Ever, I know when to cry uncle. I know when to bow out, so don’t you worry. There’s a reason I’m named after the patron saint of lost causes—I’ve done it many times before, and . . . I . . . ”
His words fade as his chin sinks to his chest, so I get up from my chair and move toward him, grabbing the plush, tangled throw at his feet and carefully arranging it so it covers him completely. “Get some sleep,” I whisper. “I’ll fill your prescription tomorrow, so no worries there. You just stay here and rest.” Knowing he’s drifting off, moving on to some other place, but wanting to assure him nonetheless.
Tucking the blanket under his feet when he says, “Hey, Ever—you never answered—about the book. Why’d you want that book when you already have everything you could ever possibly want?”
I freeze, gazing upon the guy I’ve known for so many centuries, so many lives, who’s managed to show up yet again. Knowing there must be a reason, that from everything I’ve seen and experienced so far, the universe isn’t nearly as random as it seems. But the thing is, I don’t know the reason. In fact, I don’t know much of anything anymore. All I know is they couldn’t be more different. Jude’s calming presence is the exact opposite of Damen’s sultry mix of tingle and heat. Like the yang to his yin. Opposites to the purest degree.
I finish tucking him in, waiting until he’s drifted off again before I head for the door, saying, “Because I don’t have everything I want. Not even close.”
seven
“I knew there was something up with you guys all along. Especially you.” She points at Damen. “Sorry, but no one’s that perfect.”
Damen smiles, opening the door wide and motioning us inside, his deep dark gaze holding mine like a lover’s embrace, showering me with a deluge of telepathic red tulips meant to provide the courage and strength I’m obviously gonna need.
“And just so you know, I saw that,” Haven says, heavily ringed fingers clutching her leather-clad hips, eyes darting between us, before shaking her head and charging into the foyer.
Damen looks at me, brows raised, but I just shrug. Haven’s gifts are only just starting to surface. Mind reading is just the beginning.
“Wow, I can’t believe you live like this!” She twirls around and around as she takes it all in—the elaborate chandelier hanging from the tall, domed ceiling, the plush Persian rug at her feet—two priceless antiques dating back several centuries that were almost lost for good when Damen went through what I now refer to as his “monk phase”—back when he was sure his extravagant, vain, narcissistic past was directly to blame for all the troubles we face. Determined to rid himself of all worldly goods, until the twins came to stay and the for SALE sign came down, wanting to provide them with all the extra comforts and space that he could. “You could throw the most awesome parties just right here in the entry!” She laughs. “Is this part of being immortal? Living in fancy digs like this? Because if so, sign me up!”
“Damen’s been at it awhile—” I say, unsure how to explain his multimillion-dollar manse, since I’ve yet to get to the part about the ancient art of instant manifestation, along with picking all the right ponies at the track—and not sure that I will.
“Well, how long has Roman been at it, cuz his place is nice and all, but it’s nothing like this.”
Damen and I look at each other, unable to communicate with our usual telepathy now that we know she can hear, but still mutually deciding to ignore the question. Determined to keep the details as vague as we can, for as long as we can. Delaying the inevitable day when she discovers the real truth behind all of this, not to mention what really happened to her good friend Drina.
We follow her through the kitchen and into the den, only to find the twins plopped on either end of the couch. Each of them reading their very own copy of the same book, with Rayne munching on a bar of chocolate, while Romy dips into a big, buttery bowl of popcorn.
“So, are you guys immortal too?” she asks, causing Romy and Rayne to look up, Rayne with her usual scowl, while Romy just shakes her head and returns to where she left off.