Damen reaches toward me-both mentally and physically-trying to send me a message, trying to pull me back to him, but it's no use. His thoughts are mumbled, jumbled, making no sense at all. Just a long string of words I've no interest in.
Roman's the only thing that interests me now.
He's my sun, moon, and stars and I happily revolve all around him.
I take another step, my hands shaking, body aching, yearning for the chill of his touch on my skin. No longer caring who sees-what they'll think-only wanting to feed the hungry monster within me.
And just as I'm about to do it, about to take that final leap forward, he sweeps right past me and saunters outside to his car. Leaving me unsteady, uncertain, breathless, and confused-as Miles stands by, unsure what to do-and Damen looks on with concern.
Summoning every ounce of his will to hold it together, to keep things on track, at least while Miles is present, and going right back to where we left off when he says, "Roman's taste in art is pedestrian at best. Stick with my list and you can't go wrong." His face appearing composed, relaxed, but I know it's anything but. The energy that emanates off him tells a whole other story.
And I wish I could care in the way I'm supposed to-in the way that I eventually will once this pulse starts to fade and the impact of what I've just done comes reeling back at me. But that's a horrifying moment reserved for the future. Right now, all I can think about is him.
Where he's going.
If she's with him.
And what I can do to stop them.
Miles glances between us, wishing he could just board that jet and be done with all this. Nervously clearing his throat when he says, "So, now that that's over, you wanna join the rest of the party? The cast is up in the game room and we're about to perform the highlights of Hairspray pretty soon."
Damen starts to shake his head no, but I override him. Even though I want to do pretty much anything but take part in a show-tunes sing-along, if I've any hope of salvation, I need to stay here. Right here in this house where it's safe. If I go outside, I'll go after him, and from that moment on, there'll be no turning back.
Besides, I need the distraction. I can't bear to see Damen's questioning gaze, the look of hurt on his face. I need some time to calm and center myself, so I can eventually explain the strange, awful truth of what's happening to me.
I grasp his hand tightly and lead him upstairs, hoping the energy veil that hovers between us will mask my clammy, cold skin, as I enter the game room with a smile and wave.
Remembering the secret Miles once told me about acting-that it's all about projecting-projecting-projecting-believing the lie so fervently the audience buys it too.
"Damen-I-" I try to tell him-try to force the words from my lips, but they won't come. My throat's gone all hot, tight, and crowded again. As though the beast knows my agenda and refuses to comply.
Damen looks at me, his growing concern clearly stamped on his face.
"Let's-let's go to Summerland," I croak, amazed I could even say that. "Back to Versailles." I nod, swiveling in my seat until I'm fully facing him, begging him with my eyes to go along with my plan.
"Now?" He brakes at a light and looks at me, his eyes narrowed, forehead scrunched-the telltale signs I'm being scrutinized.
I press my lips together and shrug, striving to appear relaxed, nonchalant, as though I'm really not all that attached to the outcome, when the truth is I've been twitchy and itchy from the moment we got to Miles's to the moment we left, and the only thing that will cure it, the only thing that will enable me to confide in Damen and ask for the help that I need is to get to Summerland ASAP. Here on the earth plane, I'm no longer in control of me.
"I thought you liked it there," I say, carefully avoiding his gaze. "I mean, after all, you're the one who created it."
He nods-nods in the way that you do when you're not just striving for patience but also trying to hide what you're thinking. And the truth is, I can't take it. I seriously can't stand it.
I just want to go-now. Before this strange invader takes over completely.
"I do like it," he says, voice low, measured. "As you pointed out, I'm the one who made it. And while I'm glad you seem to really like it too-I'm also concerned."
I blow my hair out of my face and cross my arms before me, doing my best to broadcast my annoyance. I mean, it's not like I have a lot of time to waste here.
"Ever, I-" He reaches toward me, but I quickly squirm out of his way.
Yet another symptom of my awful addiction, and it's completely involuntary. The very reason I need to get out of this place.
He shakes his head and starts again, gaze deeply saddened when he says, "What's going on with you? You haven't been yourself for days. And just now, back at Miles's"-he glances over his shoulder as he quickly changes lanes-"well, I hate to say it, but the moment you saw Jude, well, let's just say there was a definite change in your energy, and then when Roman came into the room-" He swallows hard and clenches his jaw, taking a moment to pull it together before he says, "Ever, what's happened to you?"
I bow my head, aware of the sting at the back of my eyes as I try once again to tell him-but I can't-the magick won't let me.
So instead, I turn to him and pick a fight, knowing the beast has no problem with that, and willing to do whatever it takes to convince him to follow me, to go away with me.
"This is ridiculous!" I say, instantly hating myself but left with no other choice. "Seriously. I can't believe you're saying this! In case you haven't noticed, my dream summer of lying on the beach with you doesn't seem like it's going to come to fruition anytime soon, so excuse me for wanting to grab the few moments I can to head off to Summerland!" I shake my head and look away, crossing my arms even tighter but mostly to hide the fact that they're shaking so badly I can barely control them. Knowing I'm being unfair, completely unreasonable, but if he'd just come with me, if I could just get him there, then I can explain everything.
Aware of the weight of his gaze on my face, the way he's taking in the newly dark circles just under my eyes, the fresh sprinkling of acne covering my chin, the way my clothes are starting to hang on me all droopy and loose, thanks to the weight that I've lost. Wondering what's brought this on, why I seem to be failing at just about everything. So genuinely concerned about me-it makes my heart ache.
And when he narrows his gaze even further, I know he's trying to reach me telepathically, to communicate in a way that's no longer an option-or at least not here anyways.
So I turn, turn toward the window, desperate to shield him from the horrible truth that I can no longer hear him. No longer have access to his thoughts, his energy, or even the tingle and heat his touch used to bring.
All of that's gone. Eradicated. The beast has taken it from me.
But only here. In Summerland I'll be rested, clear-skinned, just like the old me. And the two of us together will be everything we were ever meant to be.
"Just come with me," I plead, my voice hoarse and weak. "I can explain-but only there, not here. Please?"
He looks at me and sighs. Torn between wanting to please me and doing what he thinks best.
"No," he says in a way so unequivocal, so nonnegotiable, there's no mistaking what it means.
Not only is it a no to Summerland, it's a no to me. A no to the one and only thing that I need.
He shakes his head, face heavy with regret when he adds, "Ever, I'm sorry, really I am, but no. We're not going. I think it's better if we head home, back to my house, where we can sit down and have a nice long talk, get to the bottom of just what exactly is going on with you."
I sit beside him, hollow-eyed, zit-faced, twitchy and edgy, barely able to contain myself, barely holding it together as he makes a long verbal list of concerns. How I haven't been myself lately, how I don't even look like myself anymore, how much I've changed in every way, shape, and form-not one of these changes for the better.
But the truth is, the words sail right over me, like a vague and distant hum. I'm going to Summerland, with or without him, there's really no choice in the matter.
"Are you drinking your elixir? Do you need a new supply?
Ever, please, talk to me-what's going on?"
I close my eyes and shake my head, blinking back the threat of tears, unable to explain that I can't stop this runaway train. I'm no longer the conductor in charge of this thing.
He narrows his gaze, making one last attempt to reach me telepathically, but it's no use. I couldn't guess the message if I tried. My system is fried.
"You can't even hear me anymore, can you?"
He stops at a lighted crosswalk and reaches toward me again, but if nothing else I'm still light on my feet and quickly jump out of the car. My arms wrapped so tightly around me they're about to go numb. My fingers twitching, body thrumming, knowing if I don't get out of here quick, I'll have no choice but to go find him. Roman. No choice at all.