Everlasting (The Immortals #6)(84)

“Let’s not kid ourselves, Ever. First you fel in love with the magical me—the fancy car, the tulips, the mystery. It was only later when you got to know the real me. And even then, it’s hard to separate the two. And, if I remember correctly, you weren’t so wild about what you once referred to as my ‘monk phase.’”

He makes a good point, but I’m quick to refute it. “It’s true that I fel fast and hard for the magical, manifesting,

mysterious

you—but

that

was

infatuation, not love. Once I got to know you, once I got to know your heart, and soul, and the truly wonderful being that you are, wel , that’s when that infatuation grew much deeper and turned into love. And yeah, while it’s also true that I didn’t exactly love it when you chose to give up al the fancy stuff, I never stopped loving you. Besides, aren’t you the one who once told me that everything that can be done in Summerland can be done in the earth plane too?

Didn’t you claim that it might take a little longer to see it come to fruition but that it works al the same?”

I move toward him, stopping just a few inches shy, wishing he’d turn and face me, but knowing he’s not ready.

“In the end,” I say, my voice softly coaxing, “it al comes down to what you already know to be true. You know how the universe works.

You know that everything is energy, that thoughts create, that we can work our own magick right here on the earth plane by keeping our intentions positive and clear. So now it’s just a matter of putting al that we know into practice. Now it’s just a matter of having faith in al that you’ve taught me. Now it’s just a matter of trusting the universe enough, trusting me enough, and trusting yourself enough, to believe. Damen, don’t you want to slow down? Don’t you want to stay in one place for more than a few years? Don’t you want to build lasting friendships, maybe even, I don’t know, but maybe even have a family someday? Heck, don’t you want to see your own family again?”

He takes a deep breath, takes several deep breaths, then he turns, his dark eyes going impossibly wide when he sees me—sees how I’m dressed.

“You’re a vision,” he says, his voice edged with wonder. “You’re just like the painting. Enchantment. Isn’t that what we cal ed it?”

But while his eyes are busy roaming me, mine

are fixed on what he holds in his hand.

The thing he’d kept hidden when he was facing the windowsil now plainly in view.

The sight of it reminding me of Roman’s last night, when he sat before me on his rumpled bed—a gleaming glass vial fil ed with sparkling green liquid pinched between his finger and thumb.

Much like Damen stands now.

He catches me looking, grips the glass tighter, causing the green liquid to splash up the sides, swishing just shy of the lip.

And I know that al we have to do to be together And I know that al we have to do to be together in the way that we want is to drink it.

Just one smal sip from each of us is al it’l take. One smal sip and al of our problems

disappear.

Only that’s what I used to think. Now I know that it’s no longer true.

While the antidote may be a sure thing, the bigger solution, the real solution, offers no guarantee. It requires a leap of faith—a pretty big leap for sure—but stil one I’m wil ing to take. Though from what I can see, with the way Damen lifts the vial before him, I’m clearly the only one feeling that way.

Stil , I can’t help but be transfixed by the sight of it. Transfixed by the realization that I’m ready to turn my back on the one thing I sought for so long. I lift my hands before me, the lotus blossom cupped between my palms as I say, “I saw Lotus—

just before she crossed over. She wanted you to have this.” My eyes meet his, noting how he’s absorbed by the sight of me, as the antidote continues to swirl in his grip.

And while he doesn’t reach for the flower, he does manage to say, “I always figured it was the stuff of myth. I had no idea it real y exists.”

I edge closer to him, edge past an ancient marble-topped table covered with stacks of very impressive, first-edition signed books that would easily fetch hundreds of thousands of dol ars at auction.

“The actual Tree of Life!” He flicks his gaze between me, the lotus blossom, and the antidote he holds in his hand, softly shaking his head when he says, “It’s amazing to me that you not only found it, but that you brought back enough fruit for al of our kind. While I can’t bring myself to taste it, I’m impressed and amazed that you managed to do such a thing.”

Despite the warmth in his eyes, al I can hear is: I can’t bring myself to taste it.

The words resonating in a way that robs me of breath, makes my knees threaten to crumple.

We gaze at each other, the silence gathering, building between us. And if I could, I’d encourage the moment to stretch and grow and linger forever, but I know it must end. Everything does. I also know what needs to be said, so it may as wel come from me.

“So, I guess this is it then?” I try not to sound as broken as I feel but don’t come close to succeeding. He looks at me, his expression standing in for any words he might say, so I heave a deep sigh, curl my fingers around the lotus blossom, and start to haul myself out of his room, out of his life. We’ve reached the crossroads.