He pulls me to him, arms locked tightly around me, comforting me in a way I wish could last forever. “Are we good?” he whispers. “Are we finished with this?”
I nod, pressing my body hard against his, having no need for words. The only thing I want now, the only thing that’ll make me feel better is the reassuring feel of his lips.
I shift my body so it’s covering his, conforming to the bend of his chest, the valley of his torso, the bulk near his hips. Hearts beating in perfect cadence, vaguely aware of the slim veil of energy pulsating between us as I lower my mouth to his—pressing and pushing and kneading together—weeks of longing rising to the surface—until all I want to do is infuse my body with his.
He moans, a low primal sound coming from deep within, hands clutched at my waist, bringing me closer ’til there’s nothing between us but two sets of clothes that need to be shed.
I fumble at his fly as he pulls at my tee, breath meeting in short, ragged gasps as our fingers hurry as fast as they can, unable to complete their tasks quickly enough to satisfy our need.
And just as I’ve unbuttoned his jeans and start to slide them down, I realize we’ve gotten so close, the energy veil was pushed out.
“Damen!” I gasp, watching as he leaps from the bed, breath coming so heavy and fast, his words are clipped at the end.
“Ever—I’m—” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry—I thought it was safe—I didn’t realize—”
I reach for my tee and cover myself, cheeks flushed, insides aflame, knowing he’s right, we can’t take the risk—can’t afford to get caught up like that.
“I’m sorry too—I think—I think maybe I pushed it away and—” I bow my head, allowing my hair to fall into my face, feeling small and examined, sure I’m to blame.
The mattress dips as he returns to my side, the veil fully restored as he lifts my chin and makes me face him again. “It’s not your fault—I—I lost focus—I was so caught up in you I couldn’t maintain it.”
“It’s okay. Really,” I say.
“No it’s not. I’m older than you—I should have more control—” He shakes his head and stares at the wall, jaw clenched, gaze far away, eyes suddenly narrowing as he turns back to me and says, “Ever—how do we know if this is even real?”
I squint, having no idea what he means.
“What kind of proof do we have? How do we know Roman’s not just playing us, having a bit of fun at our expense?”
I take a deep breath and shrug, realizing I have no proof at all. My eyes meeting his as I replay the scene from that day, all the way to the end where I add my blood to the mix and make Damen drink, realizing the only proof I have is Roman’s extremely unreliable word.
“Who’s to say this is even legit?” His eyes widen as an idea begins to form. “Roman’s a liar—we’ve no reason to trust him.”
“Yeah, but—it’s not like we can test it. I mean, what if it’s not a big game, what if it is legit? We can’t take the risk—can we?”
Damen smiles, rising from the bed and heading for my desk where he closes his eyes and manifests a tall white candle in an elaborate gold holder, a sharp silver dagger, its blade pointy and smooth, its handle encrusted with crystals and gems, and a gold-framed mirror he sets down beside them, motioning for me to join him as he says, “Normally I would say ladies first—but in this case—”
He holds his hand over the glass and raises the knife, placing the edge to his palm and tracing the curve of his lifeline, watching his blood flow onto the mirror, pooling, coagulating, before closing his eyes and setting the candle aflame. The wound already healed by the time he passes the blade through the blaze, cleansing, purifying, before handing it to me and urging me to do the same.
I lean toward him, inhaling deeply as I quickly slice through my flesh. At first wincing at the sharp stab of pain, then watching fascinated, as the blood pours from my palm and onto the mirror where it slowly creeps toward his.
We stand together, bodies still, breath halted, watching as two ruby red splotches meet, mingle, coalesce—the perfect embodiment of our genetic makeup joining as one—the very thing Roman warned us against.
Waiting for something to happen, some sort of catastrophic punishment for what we’ve both done—but getting nothing—no reaction at all.
“Well, I’ll be damned—” Damen says, eyes meeting mine. “It’s fine! Perfectly—”
His words cut short by the sudden spark and sizzle as our blood begins to boil, conducting so much heat a huge plume of smoke bursts from the mirror and fills up the air—crackling and spitting until the blood evaporates completely. Leaving behind only the sheerest layer of dust on a burnt-out mirror.
Exactly what’ll happen to Damen if our DNA should meet.
We gape, speechless, unsure what to say. But words are no longer necessary, the meaning is clear.
Roman’s not playing. His warning was real.
Damen and I can never be together.
Unless I pay his price.
“Well.” Damen nods, struggling to appear calm though his face is clearly stricken. “Guess Roman’s not nearly the liar I accused him of being—at least not in this case.”
“Which also means he has the antidote—and all I have to do now is—”
But I can’t even finish before Damen’s cutting me off. “Ever, please, don’t even go there. Just do me a favor and stay away from Roman. He’s dangerous, and unstable, and I don’t want you anywhere near him, okay? Just—” He shakes his head, and runs his hand through his hair, not wanting me to see how distraught he really is and heading for the door as he says, “Just give me some time to figure things out. I’ll think of a way.”
He looks at me, so shaken by the events he’s determined to keep his distance. Manifesting a single red tulip into my newly healed palm in place of a kiss, before heading down the stairs and out my front door.
CHAPTER 17
The next day, when I get home from school, Haven’s on my front steps, eyes smeared with mascara, royal blue bangs hanging limp in her face, with a blanketed bundle clutched tight in her arms.
“I know I should’ve called.” She scrambles to her feet, face red and swollen as she sniffs back the tears. “I guess I didn’t really know what to do, so I came here.” She rearranges the blanket, showing me a solid black cat with amazing green eyes that appears very weak.
“Is he yours?” I glance between them, noticing how both of their auras are ragged and frayed.
“She.” Haven nods, fussing with the blanket and raising it back to her chest.
“I didn’t know you had a cat.” I squint, wanting to help but unsure what to do. My dad was allergic, so we always had dogs. “Is this why you weren’t at school today?”
She nods, following me into the kitchen where I grab a bottle of water and pour it into a bowl.
“How long have you had her?” I ask, watching as she places the cat in her lap and brings the bowl to her face. But the cat’s not the least bit interested and quickly turns away.
“Few months.” She shrugs, giving up on the water and smoothing the top of her head. “Nobody knows. Well, outside of Josh, Austin, and the maid who’s sworn to secrecy, but nobody else. My mom would flip. God forbid a real living thing mess up her designer decorating scheme.” She shakes her head. “She lives in my room, mostly under the bed. But I leave the window cracked so she can get out and wander around now and then. I mean, I know they’re supposed to live longer if you keep ’em inside, but what kind of life is that?” She looks at me, her normally bright sunshiny aura turned gray with worry.
“What’s her name?” I peer at the cat, keeping my voice to a whisper, trying to hide my concern. From what I can see, she’s not long for this world.
“Charm.” The corners of her lips lifting ever so slightly as she glances between us. “I named her that because she’s lucky—or at least it seemed that way at the time. I found her just outside my window the first time Josh and I kissed. It seemed so romantic.” She shrugs. “Like a good sign. But now—” She shakes her head, and looks away.
“Maybe I can help,” I say, an idea beginning to form. One I’m not sure will work, but still, from what I can see I’ve got nothing to lose.
“She’s not exactly a kitten. She’s an old lady now. The vet told me to keep her comfortable for as long as I can. And I totally would’ve kept her home since she really likes it under my bed, but my mom’s decided to redo all the bedrooms even though my dad’s threatening to sell, and now the decorator is there, along with a Realtor, and everyone’s fighting and the house is a mess. And since Josh is auditioning for this new band, and since Miles is getting ready for his performance tonight, I thought I’d come here.” She looks at me. “Not that you were last choice or anything.” She cringes, realizing what she just said. “It’s just that you’re always so busy with Damen and I didn’t want to bother you. But if you’re busy, I don’t have to stay. I mean, if he’s coming over or something, I can just—”
“Trust me.” I lean against the counter and shake my head. “Damen’s—” I stare at the wall, wondering just how to phrase it. “Damen’s pretty busy these days. So I doubt he’ll be dropping by anytime soon.”
I glance between her and Charm, reading her aura and knowing she’s even more distraught than she seems. And even though I know it’s not right, ethical, or whatever, even though I know it’s the circle of life and you’re not supposed to interfere, I can’t stand to see my friend suffer like this, not when I have a half bottle of elixir sitting inside my bag.