Shadowland (The Immortals #3)(93)

“How can I forgive a girl who loves her friend so much she can’t bear to let her go?” He tucks my hair behind my ear and lifts my chin, making me face him. “How can I forgive a girl who sacrificed the one thing she’s wanted all this time, all these years? Forfeiting the immediate hope of us being together so her friend could live? How can I forgive her, you ask?” He looks at me, eyes searching mine. “It’s easy. Did I not make a similar choice when I first made you drink? And yet, what you did was so much bigger, motivated only by love, while my own actions weren’t quite so pure. I was far more interested in alleviating my suffering.” He shakes his head. “Convincing myself I did it for you, when the truth is, I was selfish and greedy, always interfering, never allowing you to choose for yourself. I brought you back for me—it’s clear to me now.”

I swallow hard, wishing I could believe him—that my decision was noble. But this is different. What I did was entirely different. I knew about the Shadowland, he didn’t.

Looking at him as I say, “And that’s all fine until she’s in trouble again, then the death of her soul is on me.”

He gazes past me, out to an invisible ocean sending a continuous crash of waves to the shore. Both of us knowing there’s nothing more to say. No words that can remedy this.

“It wasn’t—” I pause, feeling stupid for bringing it up now, in light of everything else, but still wanting him to know. “It wasn’t what you think—about me and Jude—that day on the beach—” I shake my head. “It wasn’t what it seemed.” His jaw tightens, his grip loosens, but I bring him back to me, having much more to say. “I think he’s an immortal. A rogue, like Roman.” Damen stares at me, eyes narrowed when I add, “I saw his tattoo, right on the small of his back—” Then realizing how that sounds, that I was actually in a position to get a close-up look at his bare lower back, I add, “He was in his trunks and we were in the spa—” I shake my head, this isn’t helping. “It was a whole thing for Miles’s going-away party—and—anyway, when Ava called, he turned and reached for the phone and I saw it. The snake eating its own tail. The Ouroboros. Just like Drina had, like the one Roman wears on his neck. Same thing.”

“Is it just like Roman’s?”

I squint, unsure what he means.

“Did it flash? Move? Fade in and out of view?”

I swallow hard, and shake my head, wondering what difference it could make. I mean, sure I only saw it for a few seconds, no more than a glimpse, but still—

He sighs and moves away, sitting on the hood of his car when he says, “Ever, the Ouroboros itself isn’t evil. Far from it. Roman and his tribe have distorted the meaning. It’s actually an ancient alchemical symbol, signifying creation out of destruction, eternal life—that sort of thing. Plenty of people have ’em, and the only thing it proves is that Jude has a thing for body art. Body art, and you.”

I move toward him, wanting him to know that it’s not at all reciprocated. How could it be with Damen in the picture?

Realizing he heard my thoughts when he pulls me close and presses his lips to my ear. “You sure? It’s not the flashy car and magick tricks that won you over?”

I shake my head and nuzzle closer, aware of the veil that hovers between us, thrilled our telepathy is working again. Fearing I’d somehow broken it when we were back in that room.

Of course it’s working again, he thinks. Fear separates—makes us feel alone—disconnected—while love—love does just the opposite—it unites.

“It’s always been you,” I say, needing to say the words out loud where we can both hear them. “Just you. No one but you.” I gaze into his eyes, hoping the wait is over, that we can forgo our three-month deal.

He cradles my face in his hands and presses his lips against mine. His warm loving presence the only answer I need. The only answer I want.

Knowing there’s so much more to discuss—Roman, Haven, the twins, Jude, the Book, Ava’s return—but knowing it can wait. For now I just want to revel in being with him.

Sliding my arms around his neck as he pulls me onto his lap, the two of us gazing out at something so dark, so vast, so infinite, so eternal, we both know it’s there—and yet we can’t even see it.