Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(85)
The antidote.
The vial for the antidote now smashed—destroyed in the struggle—and taking my hopes along with it.
And now, with Roman gone, his soul headed for the Shadowland, there’s no way to ever retrieve it.
“How could you?” I turn, eyes blazing on Jude. “How could you do such a thing?” Watching as he struggles to stand, face blanched, hand rubbing at his back. “You’ve destroyed everything. Everything! I was so close—so close to getting the antidote—and you wrecked it! Forever!”
Jude looks at me, hands on his knees, brow merged, struggling to catch his breath when he says, “Ever—I—I didn’t mean to—” He shakes his head. “You have to believe me. I thought you were in trouble—you looked like you were in trouble! You didn’t see what I saw—you were—he was all over you—” He shakes his head. “And it seemed like you were struggling—internally, like you couldn’t handle it, couldn’t fight your attraction to him. And that’s why I came. That’s the only reason I’m here. I knew where you were heading when you left the store and I didn’t think you were ready to try this again. And when I got here just now—and saw you like that—well, I didn’t want it to end up like that last time and so—I just—I—”
“And so you killed him?” My eyes gape as my throat goes dry. “You used everything I shared with you against me, and you killed him?”
He shakes his head and stands before me, his T-shirt torn from when I grabbed him and flung him across the room, his aura flaring in distress as he fiddles with the green malachite ring on the hand he used to kill Roman with. “You’re always going on and on about how bad he is—how evil—how he runs an evil tribe of rogues—and how because of the spell you cast, you can’t seem to resist him. You came to me for help. You confided in me first—not Damen. You chose me, Ever, whether you like it or not! And all I wanted to do was to save you—from Roman—from yourself. That was my only intention—to look after you—to take care of you!”
“Was it?” I narrow my gaze, as a new idea begins to take shape. “Was that really your only intention? Truly?”
“What are you talking about?” He squints, rubbing his lips together, trying to decipher my words.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I say, body trembling with fury, outrage, and defeat, as I clutch Roman’s shirt, his antidote-stained shirt. “You did this on purpose.” I glare at him, having no real proof that it’s true, but still, once the words are out there, spoken aloud, the idea begins to gain strength and build, so much so that I quickly repeat it, venturing even further when I add, “You did this on purpose. This is no mistake. You knew exactly what you were doing when you came here. So, is this it then? Is this how you figure you’ll win the game of four hundred years? Is this your big move? Robbing me, the girl you supposedly love, of the one thing I want most in this world? Ensuring that I’ll never, ever get to be with Damen? Is that how you’re playing it, Jude? You honestly think that this’ll make me give up on my soul mate and choose you?”
I shake my head and gaze down at Roman’s shirt, my heart sinking when I look at the stain that runs across it, when I think of Roman’s sad, pathetic life, and what’s now become of his soul. Knowing I was so close, so close, to reaching him, to making a difference, to getting what I want—and now this.
Everything lost in an instant.
“Ever—” Jude pleads, the sting of my words conveyed in his voice, in his eyes, as he moves toward me, his hands reaching, but I won’t let him get close, won’t let him touch me. “How can you even say that?” he asks, finally stopping, conceding defeat. “I do love you. You know that. I’ve loved you for centuries, it’s true. But I didn’t intentionally set out to do this—to keep you from Damen in this way. You mean too much to me to ever do that, I value your happiness, like I told you before. And when you do finally make your choice, choose between us, I want it to be fair. This time, I’m determined that it be fair.”
“But I’ve already chosen,” I say, my voice now a whisper. I just don’t have it in me to fight anymore. Rising from the bed, still clutching the shirt, when Haven comes in and catches me like that.
Eyes blazing as she surveys the scene, instantly filling in the blanks and putting the pieces together when she sees Roman’s shirt in my hand.
“What’ve you done?” she says, voice so low, so menacing, it sends a chill down my spine. “What the hell have you done?”
She snatches the shirt, grasping it against her lace-covered chest as her eyes rake over me, assuming I’m to blame, and ignoring Jude when he tries to step in and assume full responsibility.
“I should’ve known.” She shakes her head, eyes narrowed to slits. “Should’ve known all along—when you came over to my house and tried to play nice—you weren’t even the least bit sincere—you were using me, playing me, pumping me for information—trying to see when I’d be gone, so you could get him alone and then—and then kill him.”
“It’s not what you think!” I cry. “It’s not like that at all!” But no matter how many times I repeat it, it doesn’t penetrate. She’s made up her mind, about me, about Jude, about everything that’s happened here tonight.