Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(80)
thirty-three
When I get to Roman’s, it’s quiet.
Just as I’d hoped.
Just as I’d planned.
When Haven told me she was going to a concert with Misa, Marco, and Rafe, I knew it was the perfect opportunity to catch Roman on his own, undisturbed, so I could approach him in a peaceful, reasonable manner and calmly plead my case.
I stand outside his door, taking a moment to close my eyes and be still. Drawing my attention deep down inside myself, unable to find even the slightest trace of the monster in there. It’s as if by letting go of all my anger and hatred for Roman, I’ve deprived the dark flame of the oxygen it needed to survive—and I am what’s left in its place.
And it’s only after I’ve knocked a few times and he still fails to answer that I let myself in. Knowing he’s in there, and not just because his cherry red Aston Martin is parked in the drive but because I can feel him, sense his presence, but oddly enough he doesn’t seem to feel or sense mine or surely he’d already be here.
I head down the hall, peeking into the den, the kitchen, through the window to the detached garage in the back, and when I see that it’s dark, with no sign of him, I head for his bedroom, calling his name and moving much louder than necessary, preferring not to surprise him or catch him in the middle of something embarrassing.
Finding him lying on the middle of a large, elaborate, canopied bed, one with so many drapes and tassels it reminds me of the ones Damen and I enjoy in our Summerland version of Versailles. Clothed in an unbuttoned, white linen shirt and faded old jeans, his eyes shut tight, with a pair of earphones clamped to his head, and a framed picture of Drina clutched to his chest. And I stop, wondering if I should maybe just turn around and leave, catch him another time, when:
“Oh, fer chrissakes, Ever, don’t tell me you knocked the bloody door down again?” He sits up, tossing the earphones to the side and carefully placing the photo of Drina back in the drawer of his nightstand. Seemingly not the least bit embarrassed at being caught in such a private, sentimental moment. “This whole act of yers is gettin’ a little overplayed, don’tcha think?” He shakes his head and rakes his fingers through those golden waves, pushing them back into place. “Seriously, darlin’, can’t a bloke get a little privacy around here? Between you and Haven—” He sighs and swings his bare feet to the floor as though he’s about to stand, only he doesn’t, he just remains sitting like that. “Well, I’m feelin’ a little tapped out—you know what I mean?”
I look at him, knowing I probably shouldn’t say it, but I’m far too curious to let it go. “Were you—were you meditating?” I squint, never having pictured him as the type to go in, go deep, and try to connect to that universal force.
“So what if I was, mate? So what if I was?” He rubs his hands across his brow, then turns to me when he says, “If you must know, I was trying to find Drina. You know you’re not the only one around here with—abilities.”
I swallow hard, already well aware of that, already guessing the answer to my next question when I ask, “And—did you see her?” Willing to bet that he didn’t, especially knowing what I know about the Shadowland.
He looks at me, face bearing a fleeting expression of pain when he says, “No. I didn’t. Okay? Satisfied? But someday I will. You can’t keep us apart forever, you know? Despite what you’ve done—I’ve got every intention of finding her.”
I take a deep breath, thinking: Oh, I hope not. You are not going to like it there. And feeling terrible for the times I tricked him into thinking I was her—even though I wasn’t in the driver’s seat when it happened.
But I don’t say that. In fact, I don’t say anything. I just continue to stand there, collecting my thoughts, my words, myself, waiting for just the right moment to begin.
“Roman, listen, I—” I shake my head and start over, telling myself I can do this, summoning my strength from somewhere down deep when I look right at him and say, “This isn’t what you think. I’m not here to seduce you, or play games with you, or taunt you, or try to get something from you, or at least not in the way that you think. I’m here to—”
“To get the antidote.” He picks his feet up off the floor and plops them back down on his rumpled bed. Arms folded, blocking his chest as he leans back against his silk-covered headboard and squints. “I’ll say one thing, Ever, you’re persistent if nothing else. How many more times are you planning to do this? Every time you come over here you have a new plan of attack, a new agenda in mind, and yet, every single time you fail to make the score even though I’ve provided you ample opportunity to do so. Makes one wonder if you really do want it. Maybe you only think that you want it, but your subconscious won’t allow it, since it knows your real truth. Your deep—dark—truth.” His eyes glint on mine, wanting me to know that he knows about the monster, and just how amusing he finds it. “And, sorry, luv, but I have to ask, how does Damen feel about all these little visits of yours? I reckon he can’t be too pleased about that, or the fact that Miles is about to become privy to yet another one of his secrets. He’s got many, you know. Secrets you haven’t even yet begun to uncover—stuff you can’t even imagine—”