Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(79)
“Ever—” He reaches toward me, hand clawing at the air before falling empty at his side.
“No worries.” I shrug. “I know exactly what to do. I know how to handle Roman now.” I nod, taking in his thick tangle of dreadlocks, seeing how the last few weeks of summer surf have lightened them to a sun-bleached blond. “I know exactly how to fix it, exactly how to proceed,” I add, seeing the way he tilts his head, leans back on the stool, and rubs his chin thoughtfully. His malachite ring glinting before me, nearly the same shade of green as his tropical gaze, which is narrowed, assessing, tinged with more than a slight bit of worry. But I just ignore all of that. Just brush it right off. For the first time in a long time I finally feel powerful, sure of myself, and I won’t allow room for anyone to plant even the smallest seed of doubt. “I went to the Great Halls of Learning—” I pause, knowing he needs more convincing than just my nodding head and confident word. “And—well, let’s just say I got a good lead. A very good lead.” I press my lips together and hike my purse higher onto my shoulder, knowing I should probably leave the conversation right there.
He looks at me, rubbing his hand over the front of his T-shirt, fingers tracing the black and white yin yang symbol as he tilts his head and says, “Ever—I’m not so sure you should go that route again. I mean, if you’ll remember, last time you went face-to-face with Roman it really didn’t work out all that well, and I really don’t think enough time has passed for you to try it again. At least not so soon.”
I lift my shoulders, his words glancing over me like oil meeting water, having no effect whatsoever, which, from the expression on his face, only seems to worry him more. “Noted,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ear. “But here’s the thing—I’m doing it anyway. I’m going in. One last time. So to speak.”
“When? Now? Are you serious?” He looks at me, brows merged, gaze locked on mine in a way that gives me pause for concern.
I square my shoulders and fold my arms across my chest, meeting his gaze when I say, “Why? You planning to follow me so you can try to stop me?”
“Maybe.” He shrugs, not even pausing when he adds, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Whatever it takes to—what exactly?” I cock my head, challenging him with my gaze.
“Keep you safe. Keep you from him.”
I take a deep breath and look at him, and I mean really look at him. Starting from the top of those dreadlocks and moving all the way down to his waist where, because of the counter, my view of him ends. “And why would you do that?” I finally say, gaze returning to meet his. “Why would you even think of trying to interfere with my plan? I thought you wanted me to be happy—even if that means my being with Damen? Or at least that’s what you told me.”
He rubs his lips together and shifts on his seat, a move so awkward, so clearly uncomfortable, I feel bad for saying it. I went too far. Just because we’ve spilled our hearts in the past, sharing more than we probably should have doesn’t mean I have the right to question him or to exploit what he told me. Doesn’t mean I should insist on an answer when the question obviously pains him. But still, something about the way he just shifted, not just physically, but energetically too, leaves me wondering, guessing—leaves me just the tiniest bit unsure . . .
I turn, heading for the door as he follows behind, around to the alleyway out back where we’ve both parked our cars.
“I’m meeting up with Honor later—you want to drop by? You can bring Damen if you want, I won’t mind.”
I stop and look at him.
“Well, I might mind, but I’ll put on a good show—scout’s honor.” He raises his right hand.
“So, you’re hanging with Honor?” I say, watching as he opens the driver’s side door of his old black Jeep and climbs in.
“Yeah, you know, your friend from school, the one who came to your birthday party?”
I start to tell him that she’s not my friend, that from what I saw that day on the beach, the energy she gave off, she’s probably anything but—but when I see the expression on his face, see the amusement that creases his brow, I decide to keep it to myself.
“She’s not so bad, you know?” He inserts his key and starts the engine in a series of sputters and spurts. “Maybe you should give her a chance?”
I look at him, remembering what I said to him that very first day, before I even really knew him, long before I knew about us. Something about him always falling for all the wrong girls and wondering if he’s falling once again. But when I see the way his gaze shifts, the way his aura sparks and flames, I know that that wrong girl is still me. Honor’s not even in the game. And I’m not sure what bothers me more—the realization of that or the sudden flood of relief that it brings?
“Ever—”
He gazes at me in a way that halts my breath. His face so conflicted, it’s clear he’s struggling with what comes next, but in the end he just squints, rubs his lips together, and takes a deep breath when he says, “You gonna be okay? You sure you know what you’re doing?”
I nod, climbing into my car, feeling more confident and empowered than ever before. The darkness is gone, conquered by light, and there’s no way this can go wrong. Closing my eyes and bringing my engine to life, then looking at Jude as I say, “Don’t worry. This time, I know what I’m doing. This time, everything’s gonna be different. You’ll see.”