Shadowland (The Immortals #3)(14)

“It felt strange coming without you,” I say, leading him toward a beautiful Balinese-style cabana perched beside the rainbow-colored stream. “Though I did discover a whole other side I can’t wait to show you. Only later—not now.”

I push the gauzy white fabric aside and plop onto the soft white cushions, smiling as Damen lands right beside me, the two of us lying side by side, gazing up at the elaborately carved coconut beams. Heads together, the soles of our feet just a few inches shy—the result of my elixir-fueled growth spurt.

“What is this?” He turns onto his side as I draw the curtains closed with my mind. Eager to shut out all that surrounds us so we can enjoy our own private space.

“I saw one on the cover of a travel magazine featuring some exotic resort, and I liked it so much I thought I’d manifest one. You know, so we could—hang out—and—stuff.” I avert my gaze, heart racing, face flushing, knowing I’m quite possibly the most pathetic seductress he’s met in his six hundred years.

But he just laughs, pulling me so close we just nearly touch. Separated only by the slimmest veil of shimmering energy, a pulsating screen that hovers between us—allowing us to be near without harming each other.

I close my eyes, surrendering to the wave of warmth and tingle as our bodies come together. Two hearts pumping in perfect unison, reaching and retreating, expanding and retracting, the tempo perfectly synchronized as though beating as one. Everything about it feeling so good, so natural, so right, I snuggle closer. Nestling my face in the hollow where his shoulder meets his neck, longing to taste his sweet skin and inhale his warm musky scent. A low moan escaping from deep in his throat as I close my eyes and press into his hips, my tongue tipped toward his skin, only to have him spring from my reach so fast I’m met with a mouthful of cushion.

I scramble upright, seeing him move so quickly he’s reduced to a blur. Stopping only when he’s safely ensconced on the other side of the curtain, eyes blazing, body trembling, as I beg him to tell me what happened.

I move toward him, wanting to help. But just as I get close, he moves again, hand held before him, gaze warning me away.

“Don’t touch me,” he says. “Please, stay right where you are. Don’t come any closer.”

“But—why?” My voice hoarse, unstable, hands trembling by my sides. “Did I do something wrong? I just thought—well—because we’re here—and since nothing bad can happen in Summerland—I just thought it would be okay if we maybe tried to—”

“Ever, it’s not that—it’s—” He shakes his head, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them. So dark the irises are indistinguishable from the pupils, blending right in. “And who says nothing bad can happen here?” His tone so edgy, gaze so harsh, it’s clear he’s traveled a very long way from his usual state of infallible calm.

I swallow hard and stare at the ground, feeling foolish, ridiculous—to think I was so desperate to be with my boyfriend I risked taking his life.

“I guess—I just assumed . . .” My voice fades, knowing very well what happens when one assumes. Not only do you make an ass out of u and me, but in this particular case, that very same u just might end up dead. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head, knowing it’s completely inadequate considering the life-and-death circumstances we’re in. “I—I guess I didn’t think it through. I don’t know what to say.”

I pull my shoulders in, wrapping my arms around my waist, trying to make myself smaller, so small I’ll disappear from his sight. And yet, I can’t help but wonder exactly what kind of bad thing could happen in a place where magick comes easily, and wounds are healed instantly. I mean, if we’re not safe here, then where?

Damen looks at me, answering the thought in my head when he says, “Summerland contains the possibility of all things. So far, we’ve only seen the light, but who’s to say there’s not a dark side? Maybe it’s not at all what we think.”

I gaze at him, remembering when I first met Romy and Rayne and how they said something similar. Watching as he manifests a beautifully carved wood bench, then motions for me to sit.

“Come.” He nods, urging me toward him as I take a seat at the far end, not wanting to get too close and risk setting him off again. “There’s something you need to see—something you need to understand. So please just close your eyes and clear your mind of any random thoughts and clutter as best you can. Keeping yourself open and receptive to any visions I send. Can you do that?”

I nod, eyes shut tight, doing my best to sweep my mind of such thoughts as: What’s going on? Is he mad at me? Of course he’s mad at me! How could I be so stupid? But how mad is he? Is it possible to change his mind and start over again? My usual paranoid play-list set on permanent repeat.

But even after clearing it out and waiting for what feels like a reasonable amount of time, all I’ve gotten so far is a heavy void of dense solid black.

“I don’t get it,” I say, opening one eye and peeking at him.

But he just shakes his head, eyes shut tight, brows merged in concentration, as he continues to focus with all of his might. “Listen,” he says. “And look deep down inside. Just close your eyes and receive.”

I take a deep breath and try again, but still, all I get is a foreboding silence and the feeling of black empty space.