Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(86)

“Oh, it’s exactly what I think.” She glares, hands clutching her shiny, black leather-clad hips. “Exactly. And trust me, Ever, you won’t get away with it. Not this time. You’re done interfering in my life. You’re done robbing me of the people I hold dear. This is war. Absolute war. I’m gonna make your life so miserable, you’re gonna wish your only problem was that you can’t touch your boyfriend. Cuz make no mistake—you’ve never seen anything like I’ve got coming for you.” She lifts her brow and flashes her teeth. “And Jude?” She spins on her heel, acknowledging him for the first time since she arrived. “You’re gonna wish you were immortal, because after tonight, there’s no way you’ll ever be able to withstand what’s headed your way.”





thirty-five


“So, it worked,” Damen says, his voice sounding soft, faraway. “It really did exist.”

I take a deep breath and gaze down at my knees, my feet curled up on the soft leather seat, remembering how he found me just as I was leaving Roman’s, Jude following behind, as Haven continued to scream a full litany of threats from the door. Arriving at the scene just seconds after the movie let out. Not even bothering to stop by the Montage where I’d planned for us to meet, sensing there was trouble from the moment he read my message.

I nod, gazing up at my house and remembering that triumphant moment when it all came together—when the antidote was as good as mine. Only to have it all fall apart.

Our dreams snatched right out from under us in one horrible instant.

I shake my head and sigh, knowing tomorrow morning I’ll have to face Sabine. Have to come clean about my job, my psychic abilities, my moonlighting as Avalon—and reminiscing about a few hours earlier when I thought that was the worst of my problems.

“It really and truly did work,” I say, meeting Damen’s gaze, not just wanting but needing for him to believe it. “He had the antidote, he showed it to me and everything. It was so—so small—just this tiny glass vial filled with sparkly, green liquid.” I shrug. “And then he stuck it in his pocket and—” I swallow hard, no need to relive the rest. Not verbally anyway. Not when the scene keeps replaying again and again in my head.

He frowns, having already viewed it almost as many times as me. “And then Jude busted in.” He sighs and shakes his head. Gaze grim, jaw clenched in a way I’ve never seen before. “Why did you trust him? Why’d you confide our weak-nesses—our chakras—how to get to us? Why would you do something like that?” He looks at me, desperate to understand.

I swallow hard, swallow past the big, dry lump now blocking my throat, thinking: Well, there it is—the blame I’ve been seeking all along. He’s finally judging me—but this time, it’s more for what Jude’s done than what I’ve done.

But when I look at him again, I see that isn’t it. He’s simply trying to make sense of it all. But still, I just shrug and say, “It’s my fifth chakra. My weak link. I suck at discernment, misuse information, and, apparently, trust all the wrong people in place of those who’ve been faithful all along.” I peer at Damen, knowing he requires more, deserves more, bowing my head as I add, “And the truth is, he caught me in a weak moment—” I pause, remembering just how weak that moment truly was—how close I came to crossing the bridge that leads to the other side. And though I told Damen all about the magick, and how I turned to Jude before him, I failed to tell him that part, mostly because I was too ashamed. “An incredibly weak moment.” I sigh. “What can I say?”

Damen turns, his leather seat squeaking, as he looks at me. “And here I was hoping you’d learn to trust me enough to turn to me in weak moments, not Jude.” His voice so quiet, so solemn, it breaks my heart to hear the words spoken out loud.

I close my eyes and lean back against the headrest, feeling the threat of tears as I whisper, “I know. I should’ve told you. But despite all your assurances, despite what you told me, I just didn’t believe it—couldn’t believe it. I didn’t think I deserved it. And, Damen, if you think you know the worst of it, well, think again. I’m afraid it gets much worse—”

I turn, turn until I’m facing him, and press my palms flat against his cheeks. Aware of the energy veil now dancing between us, allowing for that almost feel of his skin, and knowing this is it—this is as good as it ever will get. I’m all out of options—we’re out of options. Roman is dead and he took the antidote with him. Then I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and share everything. Every single horrible and humiliating moment revealed—flowing from my mind to his. Airing the unedited version, that awful night with Roman when I almost lost my virginity, followed by the scene at the Bridge of Souls—every horrible second revealed in all its high-definition, degrading glory. Knowing he deserves to know the truth about me—what I was, where I’ve been—and who I am now. The whole sordid journey.

And when it’s over, he just shrugs, covering my hands with his as he says, “There’s nothing there that changed my mind about you. Not one single thing.”

I nod, knowing that’s true. I finally get it. What true and unconditional love really is.

“Ever,” he says, voice urgent, gaze fixed on mine, “you need to reframe how you see yourself and the choices you’ve made.”