Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(32)
thirteen
“Damen—I—” I try to tell him—try to force the words from my lips, but they won’t come. My throat’s gone all hot, tight, and crowded again. As though the beast knows my agenda and refuses to comply.
Damen looks at me, his growing concern clearly stamped on his face.
“Let’s—let’s go to Summerland,” I croak, amazed I could even say that. “Back to Versailles.” I nod, swiveling in my seat until I’m fully facing him, begging him with my eyes to go along with my plan.
“Now?” He brakes at a light and looks at me, his eyes narrowed, forehead scrunched—the telltale signs I’m being scrutinized.
I press my lips together and shrug, striving to appear relaxed, nonchalant, as though I’m really not all that attached to the outcome, when the truth is I’ve been twitchy and itchy from the moment we got to Miles’s to the moment we left, and the only thing that will cure it, the only thing that will enable me to confide in Damen and ask for the help that I need is to get to Summerland ASAP. Here on the earth plane, I’m no longer in control of me.
“I thought you liked it there,” I say, carefully avoiding his gaze. “I mean, after all, you’re the one who created it.”
He nods—nods in the way that you do when you’re not just striving for patience but also trying to hide what you’re thinking. And the truth is, I can’t take it. I seriously can’t stand it. I just want to go—now. Before this strange invader takes over completely.
“I do like it,” he says, voice low, measured. “As you pointed out, I’m the one who made it. And while I’m glad you seem to really like it too—I’m also concerned.”
I blow my hair out of my face and cross my arms before me, doing my best to broadcast my annoyance. I mean, it’s not like I have a lot of time to waste here.
“Ever, I—”
He reaches toward me, but I quickly squirm out of his way. Yet another symptom of my awful addiction, and it’s completely involuntary. The very reason I need to get out of this place.
He shakes his head and starts again, gaze deeply saddened when he says, “What’s going on with you? You haven’t been yourself for days. And just now, back at Miles’s”—he glances over his shoulder as he quickly changes lanes—“well, I hate to say it, but the moment you saw Jude, well, let’s just say there was a definite change in your energy, and then when Roman came into the room—” He swallows hard and clenches his jaw, taking a moment to pull it together before he says, “Ever, what’s happened to you?”
I bow my head, aware of the sting at the back of my eyes as I try once again to tell him—but I can’t—the magick won’t let me. So instead, I turn to him and pick a fight, knowing the beast has no problem with that, and willing to do whatever it takes to convince him to follow me, to go away with me.
“This is ridiculous!” I say, instantly hating myself but left with no other choice. “Seriously. I can’t believe you’re saying this! In case you haven’t noticed, my dream summer of lying on the beach with you doesn’t seem like it’s going to come to fruition anytime soon, so excuse me for wanting to grab the few moments I can to head off to Summerland!” I shake my head and look away, crossing my arms even tighter but mostly to hide the fact that they’re shaking so badly I can barely control them. Knowing I’m being unfair, completely unreasonable, but if he’d just come with me, if I could just get him there, then I can explain everything.
Aware of the weight of his gaze on my face, the way he’s taking in the newly dark circles just under my eyes, the fresh sprinkling of acne covering my chin, the way my clothes are starting to hang on me all droopy and loose, thanks to the weight that I’ve lost. Wondering what’s brought this on, why I seem to be failing at just about everything. So genuinely concerned about me—it makes my heart ache.
And when he narrows his gaze even further, I know he’s trying to reach me telepathically, to communicate in a way that’s no longer an option—or at least not here anyways.
So I turn, turn toward the window, desperate to shield him from the horrible truth that I can no longer hear him. No longer have access to his thoughts, his energy, or even the tingle and heat his touch used to bring.
All of that’s gone. Eradicated. The beast has taken it from me.
But only here. In Summerland I’ll be rested, clear-skinned, just like the old me. And the two of us together will be everything we were ever meant to be.
“Just come with me,” I plead, my voice hoarse and weak. “I can explain—but only there, not here. Please?”
He looks at me and sighs. Torn between wanting to please me and doing what he thinks best.
“No,” he says in a way so unequivocal, so nonnegotiable, there’s no mistaking what it means.
Not only is it a no to Summerland, it’s a no to me. A no to the one and only thing that I need.
He shakes his head, face heavy with regret when he adds, “Ever, I’m sorry, really I am, but no. We’re not going. I think it’s better if we head home, back to my house, where we can sit down and have a nice long talk, get to the bottom of just what exactly is going on with you.”
I sit beside him, hollow-eyed, zit-faced, twitchy and edgy, barely able to contain myself, barely holding it together as he makes a long verbal list of concerns. How I haven’t been myself lately, how I don’t even look like myself anymore, how much I’ve changed in every way, shape, and form—not one of these changes for the better.