Everlasting (The Immortals #6)(49)
Final y likes who she is.
Jabbing her thumb between Damen, Roman,
and Drina, a love triangle that spanned way too many centuries, she shakes her head, rol s her eyes, and lets out a long wistful sigh that soon turns into a contagious laugh I can’t fight. The two of us giggling in a way that reminds me of better days spent with Miles at the lunch table, lazy afternoons holed up in her room with a stash of magazines piled high between us, Friday nights hanging in my Jacuzzi after having devoured an entire pizza.
Her focus shifted back to me when she thinks: I don’t hate you. Though I’m not gonna lie, I used to. And not just in that last life, but in most of the others as well. But that’s only because I was so unhappy with myself, I was sure that everyone else had it better, had what I needed. I was sure that if I could only claim what they had, then I could be happy too. She shakes her head, rol s her eyes at the absolute fol y of it. Anyway, you’ll be glad to know that’s all over now. I’m free in more ways than one. Now I’m just looking forward to whatever comes next.
I swal ow hard and nod, her words pretty much the opposite of what I’d prepared for, which makes them even more welcome. Ones I won’t soon forget. And then, the next thing I know, Drina points, Haven squeals, Roman grins, and they al join hands, the three of them rushing toward something viewable only to them, disappearing into a bril iant flash of white light without once looking back.
chapter twenty-five
Damen pul s me into his arms, grasps me tightly to him, then lifts me into the air and swings me around. My hair swirling behind me like a shiny gold cape as we twirl and spin and dance and laugh, gazing in wonder as this once-barren field begins to transform itself.
The jagged shards of prison glass sinking deep into the ground—recycling first into sand, then into a rich dark soil that provides instant nourishment for the formerly burned-out trees. Al owing them to straighten and stretch, to sprout a thick blanket of leaves, as a swath of purple and yel ow wildflowers bloom at their roots.
The two of us overcome with excitement, brimming with the glee of our triumph, Damen’s voice like a song in my ear when he says, “We did it!
We freed them—made amends—we even secured the recipe for the antidote, and it’s al because of you!” His lips find my forehead, my cheek, my nose, and my ear, then pul ing away, he adds, “Ever, do you realize what this al means?”
I look at him, my grin so wide my cheeks are stretched to their limits, but stil wanting to hear him say it, wanting to hear the words spoken out loud for both of us to hear.
“It means we can final y be together.” He stops, presses his forehead to mine, his breath coming fast and quick. “It means al of our problems are solved. It means that we’l never have to visit the pavilion again
—not even as Alrik and Adelina—unless, of course, we want to.” He wiggles his brow, emits a low, deep laugh. “Al we have to do is head back to the earth plane, get working on the brew, and…” He pauses, smooths his thumb over my cheek, then leans in to kiss me again.
I return it with an intensity and fervor matching his. Aware of the slim veil of energy hovering between us, keeping him safe from what, thanks to Roman, has become my lethal DNA, which, also thanks to Roman, won’t be a threat for much longer. Hardly able to believe that the days of what we’ve come to refer to as our almost kiss are so close to being over.
Soon, very soon, we’l be able to live just like everyone else. Able to touch each other openly, freely, without any worries. Like we do in the pavilion
—only better, because it’l be real.
Soon we’l embrace as ourselves—our presenttense selves—instead of in our various past-life guises.
I pul away ever so slightly, close my eyes and turn my face to the sky, stealing a moment to send a silent thanks to Roman, wherever he is, for giving us this wonderful gift.
Then just when I’m about to kiss Damen again, his face fal s and he moves out of my reach, answering the question in my inquiring gaze with a curt nod toward Lotus, who kneels at a distance. She sits at the edge of a pond just a few feet away, her wispy silver strands flowing freely about her, murmuring softly with her hands clasped tightly to her chest. Gazing upon an abundance of lotus blossoms that rise through the murky dark waters to bloom above the surface. Their soft white and pink petals lifting upward, surrounded by shiny green scal op-edged leaves, one popping up right after the other until you can barely see the water for the flowers.
She remains like that for some time. Content to meditate on the wondrous view before her, until she turns to face us, wearing an expression that, while not exactly what I’d cal troubled, hardly matches the flood of triumph Damen and I are currently in the midst of.
Damen’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenches,
bracing for whatever bad news he’s sure that she brings.
The two of us cautiously moving toward her, meeting halfway, both of us equal y startled when she rises from the muddy banks, looks at us, and says,
“Congratulations.”
We wait. Wait for something to fol ow. But, for a while anyway, that seems to be al .
“You may return to the earth plane if you wish.”
She glances back and forth between us.
She glances back and forth between us.
Damen squeezes my hand, in need of no further prodding. He’s more than ready to leave right now, doesn’t see the point in wasting another second hanging around. But I stand firm. Dig my heels in. Sensing it’s not over yet, there’s something more Lotus is waiting to share.