Everlasting (The Immortals #6)(14)
Right out of being Fleur, and back to being me, Ever.
I stand there, eyes wide, gasping for breath. Amazed to find myself stil part of the scenery, able to observe al that goes on before me, though no longer claiming one of the starring roles.
I had no idea I could do this. No idea I could wil ful y reduce myself to an onlooker. Had no idea such a thing was even possible.
But while I’m standing here gawking at the wonder of it al , Damen remains completely oblivious. Too caught up to notice. Too immersed in the moment to realize that the girl he tries his best to unwrap is now, wel , unoccupied for lack of a better word.
“Damen,” I whisper, though he fails to turn, fails to realize she’s just an empty, soul ess shel .
“Damen,” I repeat, a bit harsher this time, but sheesh, enough already. It’s like watching your boyfriend make out with someone else, even though that someone else used to be you. But stil , it’s too weird for comfort. It’s freaking me out.
He pul s away grudgingly, reluctantly, turning to me with a look that can only be described as complete and utter confusion. A deep crimson creeping from his neck to his cheeks when he realizes he’s just spent the last several seconds engaged in the Summerland equivalent of a pre-teen girl practicing kissing on a pil ow.
His eyes dart between us—between the
moving, living, breathing, real version of me standing before him, and the unoccupied and therefore somewhat translucent version of Fleur at his side. And while she’s stil about as al uring as it gets, her current state of suspended animation with her eyes al squinty, lips al puckered, hair al askew, wel , I can’t help but laugh, realizing he doesn’t see it quite in the way that I do when he fails to laugh too.
“What’s going on?” Damen frowns, readjusting the loose cotton shirt he wore in that time.
“I’m sorry—I just…” I look around, doing my best to smother the laugh, knowing he’s embarrassed enough as it is. “I guess I just…” I shrug and start again. “Wel , I’m not exactly sure what happened. It’s like, one minute I was going through the motions and the next I was so frustrated with her for pushing you the next I was so frustrated with her for pushing you away my frustration propel ed me right out of the scene, right out of her.”
“And how long ago was that? How long have you been standing there watching?” he asks, when what he’s real y wondering is just how embarrassed he should be.
“Not long. Real y.” I nod vigorously in hopes he’l believe me.
He nods too, obviously relieved, his color returning to normal as he reaches for me.
“I’m sorry, Ever. I real y, truly am. Everything I’ve tried so far has failed. I can’t seem to determine Roman’s antidote no matter how hard I try.” He gazes at me with a face ful of defeat. “And until I can come up with some other option, something I haven’t yet tried, wel , I’m afraid this is as good as it gets for us. But if it’s becoming a source of frustration, then maybe we should stop coming here—or at least for a while anyway?”
“No!” I look at him, shaking my head, that’s not at al what I meant, not in the least. “No, no, that’s…”
I’m quick to wave it away. “It’s not like I wasn’t caught up in the moment too, because I was. I was enjoying her flirtatious game just as much as you were. And, trust me, I’m as surprised as you that this happened. I mean, while I’ve definitely had the occasional thought that seemed out of character, this is the first time one of those thoughts has knocked me right out of character. I didn’t even know this was possible
— did you? ”
He looks at me and shrugs, always too caught
up in the moment to have even bothered with thinking about it.
“But stil , now that we’re here…” I pause, wondering if I should real y go through with this, then deciding I have nothing to lose. “Wel , there is a point I wanted to make, something that recently came to me.”
He waits, waits for me to stop with the prefacing and get to it already.
I press my lips together and gaze al around, trying to organize my thoughts, gather just the right words. I hadn’t actual y planned on broaching it, had no intention of going there, and yet, that’s not enough to stop me from turning to him, the words rushing forth when I say, “I’ve been thinking—okay, I’m not sure how to say this, but, you know how every time we come here we choose between my lives?”
Damen nods patiently, though his gaze betrays just the opposite.
“Wel , there’s a part of me that can’t help thinking: Why do we always choose between my lives? What if being Damen Augustus Notte Esposito wasn’t your first life?”
He doesn’t gape, doesn’t gawk, doesn’t flinch, shuffle, fumble, or mumble or any of the nervous little time-stal ing maneuvers I would’ve gladly bet my money on.
Nope, he just continues to stand there, his face a complete blank, devoid of expression, as though he has no thoughts on the idea I just raised. Looking as though I’d just spoken in one of the few languages he’s not quite proficient in.
“Right before you got here, I used the remote to punch in the numbers—you know, eight, eight, thirteen, oh, eight? I though it might be an important date or something—a time when we both lived before. And even though nothing happened, stil , I can’t help thinking it’s a very real possibility. I mean, we both know I lived as a Parisian servant named Evaline, right? And a Puritan’s daughter named Abigail; a spoiled London socialite, Chloe; the artist’s muse,” I point directly at her, “Fleur; and the young slave girl, Emala—but what if you weren’t always Damen? What if you were once, a long time ago, a very long time ago, someone else entirely?”