Everlasting (The Immortals #6)(42)

And before I can ask what that means, before I can ask her to clarify for me, the ground begins to shake, the river begins to slosh and bulge, as the earth beneath my feet begins to shift and separate in a way that reminds me of my first California earthquake.

I fight to locate my voice, fight to free the scream that sticks at the back of my throat, when Lotus disappears—just simply evaporates—as a swel of red tulips sprout up al around me, taking her place. A sign that can only mean one thing—Damen has joined me.

Hundreds of tulips sent fluttering, their soft petals whispering against him, as he rushes over them, rushes toward me—grasping me into his arms, he picks me up off my feet, twirls me al around, and presses his lips to my face, my hair, my lips, my cheeks, then starts the procession al over again. Desperately reassuring himself that I’m here, that

it

real y

is

me—

Adelina/Evaline/Abigail/Chloe/Fleur/Emala/Ever—

his love of so many lifetimes, bearing so many names, but being of only one soul al the same. Final y made aware of the truth, that I never real y left him despite what he may have convinced himself of. him despite what he may have convinced himself of.

“Adelina!” He pauses, smoothing my hair from my face, his eyes hungrily roaming over me, drinking me in, as he laughs, shakes his head, realizes he’s stil caught up in the past, and says, “Ever!” He kisses me again, holds me tightly to him. “You were right. You were right al along. There was a life before—an entire lifetime I never could’ve imagined.” His eyes pore over me, stil a bit overcome by what just transpired. “But now that we know, what do you suppose it al means?” he asks, almost as though musing to himself.

I thread my fingers through his hair, aware that his question was meant to be serious, but eager to erase any trace of his lingering grief in favor of a much sweeter memory.

“Wel , for one thing, it means I wasn’t always a virgin.” I smile, remembering the beautiful night we spent together as Alrik and Adelina, and the wonderful part of the morning that fol owed.

Watching as he throws his head back and laughs, his hands clasping tighter around my waist as he says, “Now that’s a moment I wouldn’t mind reliving in the pavilion.”

He finds my lips again, warm, deep, then he pul s away and says, “And Jude?”

“Jude or Heath?” I lift a brow. “You do know they are one and the same?”

He nods, having figured that out.

And not sure exactly which part he wants me to explain, I say, “He insisted on joining me, and for some reason, Lotus al owed it. Said the answers he sought would be found there.”

“He loved you then too, didn’t he?” Damen’s mouth pul s down into a frown as his eyes stare into mine.

I nod.

“And the rest—did you see it? Al of it?”

I take a deep breath and nod again.

Damen sighs, tries to turn, to pul away, but I won’t let him. I keep him clutched tightly to me. His eyes pul ing down at the sides when he says, “No wonder Jude keeps reappearing in my life. He’s trying to keep us apart, but not for the reason I thought. He must recognize me, sense who I am, knows innately what I am. That I later succeeded where I first failed, ensuring my own immortality before going after yours.” He shakes his head. “Al of this time, for al of those lifetimes, without even realizing it, he was trying to stop me, trying to save you from me.” He rubs his chin, looks at me wearily.

“I thought I would die from the pain of losing you. I wanted to die. And trust me when I say my death did not come soon enough. I was left hol ow, a shel of a man without you.” He swal ows hard, swipes a hand across his eyes. “Heath begged me not to prosecute against Ava and the twins, or rather the people they were then. And when he couldn’t change my mind, he begged me to take him instead. He never forgave himself for bringing them to me. Never got over the guilt. Having summoned them as much for himself as he did for me. He couldn’t bear to lose you. Would do anything to keep you around even if it meant having to watch you marry me. But, when you died in spite of our attempts, he was quick to accept what I stubbornly resisted. What we did was wrong, unnatural, something best not attempted. He understood that; I did not. Neither in that life, nor the one that fol owed, where I eventual y found a way to finish what I’d started.” He shutters his eyes, musing at the fol y of the last several hundred years. “Did you see the rest of his life? Did you see what became of him?”

I shake my head.

Damen sighs, his hands warming my arms, gaze distant when he says, “He retreated somewhere far away, died alone, stil a fairly young man. I’m afraid my karma is more of a mess than I ever could’ve guessed.”

Not knowing what to say, I don’t say anything, but that’s okay, since Damen speaks in my place.

“So what now? Do we wait here—see if Jude or

Lotus reappear? Make our way back and try to make amends for the deeds of prior lives we can’t real y change? It’s your cal , Ever. Your destiny. Your journey. I won’t doubt you again.”

I look at him, more than a little shocked by his words, knowing how much he likes being right, being in charge; most people do.

But he just lifts his shoulders and says, “Isn’t that the whole point? Isn’t that why you keep showing up in my lives? To teach me about grief, to teach me to feel it, to accept it, but to not try to outwit it. To lead me out of the dark and into the light—to show me the real truth of our existence—that I’ve had it wrong al along—that the soul is the only immortal part of us. along—that the soul is the only immortal part of us. Isn’t that why al this has happened, why you and I can’t find true happiness, why we keep facing obstacles that are impossible to surmount? Isn’t this why we find ourselves here now, because I got it al wrong and managed to mess up on such a colossal scale?”