Everlasting (The Immortals #6)(15)

What if you reincarnated too?

Leaving that last bit unspoken but knowing he heard it just the same. The words swirling al around us in a way that can’t be ignored, even though it becomes immediately clear that Damen has every intention of doing just that.

His stiff shoulders and shadowed gaze are pretty much polar opposites of my glowing face and thrumming body. And try as I might to temper it, it’s no use. I’m so overcome with the excitement of this new idea—this perhaps undiscovered possibility—

that I can practical y feel the energy shimmering around me. And if I had an aura, no immortals do, but if I did have one, I’m pretty sure it would be shining the most beautiful, bril iant purple flecked with lots and lots of sparkly gold bits, because that’s exactly how I feel.

It’s how I know that I’m right.

But, apparently I’m the only one feeling it. Which But, apparently I’m the only one feeling it. Which means I watch in jaw-dropping dismay as Damen turns and leaves me in a field of blazing red tulips without a single parting word.

I pop out of Summerland and appear back at the house, finding Damen looking visibly deflated as he slumps on the couch.

I glance down at myself, noticing how the flimsy slip of silk is instantly replaced with the jeans and blue sweater from before, just as Damen’s flowy white shirt and black pants are traded for the clothes he chose this morning.

But even though his clothes are transformed, his mood, unfortunately, is not. And as I survey his face, searching for a hint of kindness, an opening of some kind, I get nothing more than a stony gaze in return. So I head for a nearby wal and park myself there, vowing to lean against it for however long it takes for him to make the next move. Unsure what angers him more—my breaking free of the scene, or the idea that he might’ve lived before. But whichever it is, it’s obviously unleashed some kind of inner demon of his.

“I thought we’d moved past this,” he final y says, his gaze landing on mine but only briefly before he’s pacing again. “I thought you were ready to move on and have a little fun. I thought you realized you weren’t getting anywhere, that you were wrong about Summerland, the dark dreary part of it, the old lady

— all of it. I thought you just wanted to make a stop in the pavilion so we could have a little past-life fun before we headed off on vacation. Then the minute we final y start to have a good time, you change your mind. What can I say? I’m a little disappointed, Ever. Truly.”

I wrap my arms around myself, as though they’l ward off his words. It’s not like I was trying to disappoint him; that wasn’t at al what I intended. Stil , I just can’t shake the idea that unraveling the old woman’s riddle wil lead to a happier, brighter future for us. Which is al I real y want, and I know that’s al he real y wants too—despite the downer mood that he’s in.

But I don’t say any of that. Mostly because Damen—my soul mate—the love of my lives—is always the one I can count on to diffuse my emotional land mines wel before they have a chance to explode in our faces. So the least I can do is return the favor.

He looks at me, stil clearly unhappy. So I keep my voice purposely soft and mel ow, relaxing my body and holding my hands out before me, fingers splayed, palms open in a gesture of peace when I say, “Are you upset because I stopped the scene and popped out of character? Or are you upset because I insinuated you might’ve lived before, as somebody else? Or—or both? And if it’s both, which is upsetting you more?”

I wait for him to respond. Braced for the worst, braced to hear just about anything at this point, and yet stil taken by surprise when he says, “This whole thing is ridiculous. I mean, a previous life? Ever, please. I’ve been around for over six hundred years already, doesn’t that seem long enough to you?”

“O— kay…” I drag out the word, intent on making my point, but knowing I need to tread careful y, this whole subject has clearly hit a nerve.

“And I’ve popped in and out of existence for four hundred years… that we know of.” I nod, knowing it’s sure to upset him but it has to be said.

“That you know of?” He looks at me, choosing to take that personal y. “You think there’s more that I’m hiding from you? Another slave life perhaps?”

“No.” I shake my head, quick to refute it, wanting desperately to diffuse it. “No, not at al . I was actual y thinking more along the lines of there being other lives that—that we’re not aware of. I mean, Damen, seriously, you’ve got to at least admit the possibility. I mean, what? You think the world just sprang up al around you the day you came into the world as Damen Augustus Notte? You think you were some newly hatched soul with no past? No karma to pay off?”

His brows draw together as his eyes grow dark, but his voice remains calm, even, when he says, “I’m sorry, Ever. Sorry to trump your idea with the truth. But the fact is, a soul has to start somewhere, to be

‘newly hatched’ as you cal it. So why not then and there?

Besides, if there’d been another life, an earlier life, I would’ve known about it by now. I would’ve seen it in the Shadowland.”

“So, you’re tel ing me you didn’t?” I’m unwil ing to let it go, despite the undeniable point he’s just made, despite the steam running out of me.

“I did not.” He nods, face solemn, resolute,