Everlasting (The Immortals #6)(58)
I pul back, struggle to break free, but it’s no use. He’s unfeasibly strong and continues to cling like a drowning man intent on dragging me along.
“Careful,” he says, his face shifting, al owing for a gust of cold breath to blast al the way down the length of my neck, as the push of his fingers radiates through my clothes.
Cold breath.
Colder fingers.
Unusual strength.
Thoughts I can’t hear.
Can only mean one thing.
“Marco?” I venture, wondering if it means that Misa’s here too since I rarely see them without each other.
“Hardly.” Chasing the word with a deep, scathing laugh that seems more than a little inappropriate considering the circumstances we find ourselves in.
“Then who…” I start, wondering if it’s one of the other immortals Roman might’ve turned, though it’s not long before he supplies the answer for me.
“Rafe,” he says, his voice low and deep. “You may not remember me, but we’ve met once or twice. Though always casual y, never formal y.”
I swal ow hard, having no idea if that’s good news or bad. He’s always been a bit of an enigma, though I don’t dwel on it long. My main concern is breaking out of his grip. The rest wil fol ow.
“I hope I didn’t scare you.” He loosens his hold just a little, but only a little, not enough to grant me my freedom. “I lost my footing. Fel deep into the canyon back there. Luckily for me, I didn’t hit bottom—
assuming there is a bottom. Instead I got hung up on an outcropping of rocks, then spent what seems like just shy of forever finding my way back up the side. Which, by the way, is a lot easier said than done when you can’t see a bloody thing. Went through so many seasons, I lost track. Anyway, I was just about to give up, set up camp, or more accurately hang on to what little I could until the fog clears, when I heard footsteps, your voice, and wel , it gave me just the incentive I needed to climb faster and find my way to safety. Just knowing I was no longer alone in this godforsaken place made it easier. But, I have to tel you, Ever, I’m a bit surprised to find you here on your own, I thought for sure you’d be with Damen. So who were you talking to anyway? Yourself?”
I narrow my gaze, knowing better than to answer that question, or even to let on that I’m out here on my own. He’s mocking me. He’s not the least bit sincere. And though the mist does a real y good job of obscuring his face, al owing me only a glimpse of the faintest outline of his dark wavy hair, it’s not like I need to actual y see him to confirm it. The contempt in his voice rings loud and clear.
“If you ask me, we have two choices,” he says, as though we’re just two good friends pooling our wits, searching for a solution that’s mutual y beneficial and pleasing. “We can either sit this thing out and wait for the fog to clear, or we can make our way back down and head out of here. I vote for making our way back down, how about you?”
A mil ion retorts rush forth, but I clamp my lips shut before I say something I might live to regret. Even though his proximity is giving me the creeps, even though I’m tempted to pluck his fingers right off my sleeve—I can no longer do that. Not after al that I’ve learned. Now that I know we’re al one—al connected—the old reactions no longer work.
But that doesn’t mean I have to engage. I’ve no doubt his intentions aren’t good. I move to push past him, eager to put as much distance between us as I possibly can, careful to silence al thoughts of worry, possibly can, careful to silence al thoughts of worry, paranoia, or fear that his mere presence has spawned.
For one thing, I don’t want him to overhear my thoughts, and for another, I need to clear my mind so I can reserve my focus for which direction the tree might lie in.
But my mind draws a blank.
Summerland has provided al that it wil . What happens from here rests solely on me.
Rafe trudges behind, his stride fal ing
uncomfortably close. But my need for caution precludes me from moving too fast, so I continue along, careful y placing one foot in front of the other, tentatively testing each step before al owing my ful weight to fal upon it. Feeling my way along the path like a blind person navigating an unfamiliar room, knowing this may take much longer than necessary, but also knowing it’s better to go slow, better to stay safe, than to lose my footing and be eternal y sorry. I just hope I’m headed the right way.
“I stil think we should turn back,” Rafe says, easily closing the distance between us as he stumbles behind me.
“Then turn back.” My eyes sweep the area, on high alert for signs of… wel , anything, something.
“Real y. I was doing just fine on my own.”
“Wow.” Rafe huffs, puffs, makes a big show of letting me know just how offended he is, though his voice sounds far more amused than insulted. “You real y know how to make a bloke feel welcome, don’tcha, Ever? You should be happy I’m here. But, then again, Roman did warn me about you.”
“Yeah, and just what exactly did Roman say?” I pause, turning to face him, straining to get a better look, but stil nothing. The mist is far too thick for me to discern much of anything.
I focus back on the trail, wincing at the way Rafe’s bitter, chil ed breath frosts the back of my head when he says, “Roman said plenty.
Seemed to have a pretty good handle on you. But I’m afraid I can’t real y expound upon any of that. At the moment, it seems the details have escaped me. I blame the altitude, how ’bout you?”