The furniturehe gazes out at his manicured lawn, voice low and deepis right back where it started. Returned to its original state of pure vibrating energy with the potential to become anything at all. And as for the rest He shrugs, the strong lines of his shoulders rising ever so slightly before settling again. Well, it hardly matters anymore, does it? Ive no need of it now.
I stare at his back, taking in his lean form, his casual stance. Wondering how he could be so uninterested in reclaiming the precious artifacts of his pastthe Picasso of him in the severe blue suit, the Velázquez astride a rearing white stallionnot to mention all the other amazing relics dating back centuries.
But those objects are priceless! You have to get them back. They can never be replaced!
Ever, relax. Its just stuff. His voice firm, resigned, as he turns toward me again. None of it has any real meaning. The only thing that means anything is you.
And even though the sentiment is undeniably sweet and heartfelt, it doesnt affect me in the way that it should. The only things he seems to care about these days is atoning for his karma and me. And while Im perfectly fine with those occupying the number one and two spots on his list, the problem isthe rest of the page is blank.
But thats where youre wrong. Its not just stuff. I move toward him, voice urging, coaxing, hoping to reach him and make him listen this time. Signed books by Shakespeare and the Brontë sisters, chandeliers from Marie Antoinette and Louis the Sixteenththats hardly what youd call stuff. Its history for Gods sake! You cant just shrug it off as though its nothing more than a box of tired old objects you donate to Goodwill.
He looks at me, gaze softening as he trails the tip of his gloved finger from my temple to my chin. I thought you hated my dusty old room as you once called it.
People change. I shrug. Wishing, not for the first time, that hed change back to the Damen I knew. And speaking of change, why are you so freaked by Miless trip to Florence? Noting the way he stiffens at the mere mention of the word. Is it because of the whole Drina and Roman thing? The connection you dont want him to know about?
He looks at me for a moment, lips parting, about to speak, then he turns away and mumbles, Im hardly what youd call freaked.
You know what? Youre absolutely right. For a normal person, that was hardly what youd call freaked. But for the guy whos always the coolest, calmest one in the roomall it takes is the slight narrowing of your eyes and the most minute clenching of your jaw to know youre upset.
He sighs, eyes searching mine as he moves toward me again. You saw what happened in Florence. He squints. Despite all its virtues, its also a place of unbearable memories, ones Id rather not explore.
I swallow hard, remembering the images I viewed in SummerlandDamen hiding in a small dark cupboard, watching as his parents were murdered by thugs intent on obtaining the elixirthen later, abused as a ward of the church until the Black Plague swept through Florence and he encouraged Drina and the rest of the orphans to drink the immortal juice, hoping only to heal and having no idea it would grant eternal lifeand I cant help but feel like the worlds worst girlfriend for bringing it up.
I prefer to focus on the present. He nods, gesturing around the large empty room. And right now I really need your help furnishing this space. According to my Realtor, buyers like a nice, clean, contemporary look when shopping for homes. And though I was thinking of leaving it empty, to really emphasize the size of the rooms, I suppose we should try
Your Realtor? I gasp, practically choking on the word as my voice raises several octaves at the end. What could you possibly need a Realtor for?
Im selling the house. He shrugs. I thought you understood?
I gaze around, longing for that ancient velvet settee with the lumpy cushions, knowing it would provide the perfect landing for when my body collapses and my head quietly explodes.
But I just stand there instead, determined to keep it together. Gazing at my ridiculously gorgeous boyfriend of the last four hundred years as though its the first time weve met.
Dont look so upset. Nothings changed. Its just a house. A seriously oversized house. Besides, Ive never needed all this space anyway. I never even use most of these rooms.
And what exactly are you planning to replace it with, then? A tent?
I just thought Id downsize, thats all. His gaze is pleading, begging me to understand. Nothing sinister, Ever. Nothing meant to hurt you.
And is your Realtor going to help with that too? With the downsizing? Studying him closely, wondering whats gotten into him, and where this will end. I mean, Damen, if youre seriously looking to downsize, why not just manifest something smaller? Why are you choosing this conventional route?
I flick my gaze over him, moving from his glorious head of longish dark glossy hair to his perfect rubber flip-flopshod feet, remembering how, not so long ago, I longed to be normal again, just like everyone else. But now that Im getting used to my powers I dont see the point.
Whats this really about? I squint, feeling more than a little betrayed. I mean, youre the one who got me here. Youre the one who made me this way. And now that Im finally adjusted, you decide to jump ship? Seriously. Why are you doing this?
But instead of answering, he closes his eyes. Projecting an image of the two of us laughing and happy, frolicking on a beautiful, pink-sand beach.
But I just shake my head and cross my arms tighter, refusing to play until my questions are answered.
He sighs and stares out the window, turning toward me when he says, Ive already told you, my only recourse, my only way out of this hell of my making, is to atone for my karma. And the only way to do that is to forego the manifesting, the high life, the big spending, and all the other extravagances Ive indulged myself in for the last six hundred years, so I can live the life of an ordinary citizen. Honest, hard working, and humble, with the same day-to-day struggles as anyone else.
I stare at him, replaying his words in my head, hardly believing what I just heard. And how exactly are you planning to do that? I squint. Seriously. In your six centuries of living, have you ever even held a real job?
But even though Im dead serious and not at all joking, he throws his head back and laughs like I was. Eventually calming down enough to say, You honestly think no one will hire me? He shakes his head and laughs even harder. Ever, please. Dont you think Ive been around long enough to have honed a few skills?
I start to respond, wanting to explain that while its truly remarkable to watch him paint a Picasso better than Picasso with one hand while simultaneously outdoing Van Gogh with the other, I really dont think thatll help him land that coveted barista position at the Starbucks on the corner.
But before I can say it, hes standing beside me, moving with such speed and grace all I can manage is, Well, for someone whos turned his back on his gifts, you still move awfully fast. Aware of that warm wonderful tingle swarming my skin as he slips his arms around my waist and pulls me close to his chest, carefully avoiding skin-on-skin contact. And what about telepathy? I whisper. Are you planning to ditch that too? So overcome by his proximity I can barely eke out the words.
Ive no plans to ditch anything that brings me closer to you, he says, gaze on mine, steady and still. As for the rest He shrugs, glancing around the large empty space before finding me again. Tell me, what matters more, Ever? The size of my houseor the size of my heart?
I bite my lip and avert my gaze, the truth of his words leaving me feeling small and ashamed.
Does it really matter if I choose the bus over a BMW, and generic over Gucci? Because the car, the wardrobe, the zip codethose are just nouns, things that are fun to have around, sure, but in the end, they have nothing to do with the real me. Nothing to do with who I really am.
I swallow hard, focusing on anything but him. Its not that I care about his BMW or faux French chateaux, I mean, if I want those things Ill just manifest them myself. But even though they arent important, if Im going to be honest then I have to admit they were part of the initial attractionadding to his sleek, shiny, mysterious persona that lured me right in.
But when I finally look at him again, standing before me, stripped bare of all the usual dazzle and flash, honed down to the very essence of who he really is, I realize hes still the same, warm, wonderful guy hes been all along. Which just proves his point. None of that other stuff matters.
None of it has anything to do with his soul.
I smile, suddenly remembering the one place where we can be togethersafe and secure and protected from harm. Reaching for his gloved hand as I grasp it in mine, saying, Come on, I want to show you something, and pulling him along.
CHAPTER 7
At first I was worried hed refuse to visit a place that not only requires a certain amount of magick for entry, but that is nothing but magick once you arrive. But just after landing in that vast fragrant field, he wipes the seat of his jeans and offers his hand, gazing all around as he says, Wow. I dont think I was ever able to make the portal so quickly.
Please, youre the one who taught me. I smile, gazing at the meadow of pulsating flowers and shivering trees, noting how everything here is reduced to its absolute purest form of beauty and energy.
I tilt my head back, closing my eyes against the warm hazy glow and shimmering mist. Remembering the last time I was here, how I danced with a manifest Damen in this very same field, delaying the moment when Id have to let go.
So youre okay with being here? I ask, unsure just how far his ban on magick extends. Youre not mad?
He shakes his head and takes my hand. I never grow tired of Summerland. Its a manifestation of beauty and promise in its purest form.
We make our way through the pasture, buoyed by the grass just under our feet as our fingers graze the tops of golden wild-flowers that bend and sway alongside us. Knowing anything is possible in this wonderful place, anything at all, includingjust maybeus.
I missed this. He smiles, gazing all around. Not that I remember the last few weeks without it, but still, it seems like such a long time since we were last here.
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 cant wait to show you. Only laternot 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 shythe 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 Id manifest one. You know, so we couldhang outandstuff. I avert my gaze, heart racing, face flushing, knowing Im quite possibly the most pathetic seductress hes 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 usallowing 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 Im met with a mouthful of cushion.
I scramble upright, seeing him move so quickly hes reduced to a blur. Stopping only when hes 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.
Dont touch me, he says. Please, stay right where you are. Dont come any closer.
Butwhy? My voice hoarse, unstable, hands trembling by my sides. Did I do something wrong? I just thoughtwellbecause were hereand since nothing bad can happen in SummerlandI just thought it would be okay if we maybe tried to
Ever, its not thatits He shakes his head, his eyes darker than Ive 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, its clear hes traveled a very long way from his usual state of infallible calm.
I swallow hard and stare at the ground, feeling foolish, ridiculousto think I was so desperate to be with my boyfriend I risked taking his life.
I guessI 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. Im sorry. I shake my head, knowing its completely inadequate considering the life-and-death circumstances were in. II guess I didnt think it through. I dont know what to say.
I pull my shoulders in, wrapping my arms around my waist, trying to make myself smaller, so small Ill disappear from his sight. And yet, I cant 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 were 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, weve only seen the light, but whos to say theres not a dark side? Maybe its not at all what we think.