Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(5)
She squints, swinging it back and forth, watching as the stones catch and reflect in the sunlight.
“I have one too.” I pull mine out from under my tee, revealing my own cluster of stones.
“How come mine’s different?” She glances between them, comparing, contrasting, trying to decide which is better.
“Because no two are the same—we all have different—needs. And wearing these will keep us safe.”
She looks at me.
“They hold protective qualities.” I shrug, knowing I’m treading into murky waters, the part Damen and I disagreed about.
She tilts her head and scrunches her face, unable to read my thoughts but well aware I’m holding back. “Protect us from what exactly? I mean, we’re immortal, right? Which, if I’m not mistaken, pretty much means we’ll live forever, and yet, you’re telling me I need protection? To be kept safe?” She shakes her head. “Sorry, Ever, but that just doesn’t make any sense. Who or what could I possibly need to be protected from?”
I take a deep breath, assuring myself I’m doing the right thing, the only thing, despite what Damen may think. Hoping he’ll forgive me as I say, “You need to be protected from Roman.”
She shakes her head and crosses her arms, refusing to believe. “Roman? That’s ridiculous. Roman would never hurt me.”
I gape, hardly believing my ears, especially after everything I’ve just told her.
“Sorry, Ever, but Roman’s my friend. And not like it’s any of your business, but we’re actually well on our way to becoming more than friends. And since it’s no secret you’ve hated him from day one, it’s really not all that surprising to hear you saying this now. Sad, but not surprising.”
“I’m not making it up.” I shrug, striving for a calm I can’t even summon. Knowing that raising my voice, trying to force her to see things my way, will never work on someone as stubborn as her. “And yeah, maybe you’re right, maybe I don’t like him, but considering how he tried to kill you and all—well, call me crazy, but I think that’s a good enough reason. I even have witnesses—I wasn’t the only one there, you know!”
She squints, fingernails tapping against the door handle as she says, “Okay, so let me get this straight, Roman tries to poison me with some messed-up tea—”
“Belladonna—also known as deadly nightshade—”
“Whatever.” She waves it away. “The point is, you claim he was trying to kill me, and yet instead of calling nine-one-one you just stroll on over to see for yourself? I mean, what’s up with that? Obviously you didn’t take it very seriously, so why should I?”
“I did try to call—but it was—complicated.” I shake my head. “It was a choice between—between something I really need—and you. And as you see, I chose you.”
She looks at me, eyes wide, mind calculating, not saying a word.
“Roman promised to give me what I need if I just let you die. But I couldn’t do it—and so—” I gesture toward her. “Now you’re immortal.”
She shakes her head and gazes around, focusing on a group of neighborhood kids driving a jacked-up golf cart up and down the street. Keeping quiet for so long I’m just about to speak when she says, “Sorry you didn’t get what you want, Ever, really I am. But you’re wrong about Roman. There’s no way he’d let me die. From what you said, he had the elixir standing by, ready to go in case you chose differently. Besides, I think I know Roman just a little better than you, and the fact is, he knows how unhappy I’ve been, about the stuff going on with my family—” She shrugs. “He probably just wanted to make me immortal to spare me from that, but didn’t want to sire me since there’s a lot of responsibility that goes with it. I’ve no doubt that if you hadn’t made me drink, he would’ve stepped in. Face it, Ever, you made the wrong choice. You should’ve just called his bluff.”
“There’s no sire,” I mumble, inwardly rolling my eyes at myself. Out of that whole entire litany, that’s what I choose to focus on? I shake my head and start over. “It’s not like that—not even close—it’s . . .” Voice fading as she looks away, fully convinced of one thing—she’s right and I’m wrong. And since I tried to warn her about all the dangers—about him—Damen can’t possibly fault me for what I say next.
“Fine, believe what you want, just do me a favor. If you’re going to insist on hanging with Roman, then all I ask is that you always wear your amulet. Seriously, don’t ever take it off—not for anything—and—”
She looks at me, brow raised, door half open, desperate to get out of this car and away from me.
“And if you’re serious about repaying me for making you immortal—”
Our eyes meet.
“Then Roman has something I really need you to get.”
three
“How’d it go?”
Damen opens the door before I can knock. His gaze deep and intense as he follows me into the den where I drop onto his plush velour couch and kick off my flip-flops. Careful to avoid his eyes as he lands on the cushion beside me, usually all too eager to spend the rest of eternity just gazing at him—taking in the fine planes of his face—his high sculpted cheekbones, lush inviting lips, the slant of his brow, his dark wavy hair, and thick fringe of lashes—but not today.