Night Star

fifteen

“Ever, please.” His fingers caress the soft underside of my chin, urging me to open my eyes and look at him.

So I do. Reluctantly lifting my eyes to meet his. The startling blue-green of his gaze providing such stark contrast to the brown of his skin, the golden-bronze spray of dreadlocks that fall across his face, and his slightly crooked white teeth.

“I’ve wanted this for so long…for so many years, but first, before we do this, I need to know—”

I wait for the question—barely able to breathe.

Never expecting him to say the words: “Why me? Why now?”

I squint and lean back. That lure, that pull toward him that seemed so irresistible just a second ago, now starting to fade. Only a mere trace of it managing to hang on when I shake my head and say, “I don’t even know what that means.”

My fingers loosen their grip on his shirt, watching as a small square of fabric falls to the ground as I start to push away.

But he won’t let me go. Grasping both of my hands, and holding them tightly in his, he says, “What I meant was, what happened? What is it that changed between Damen and you that made you even think to consider me?”

I take a deep breath, take in his hands, his fingers entwined around mine, his wrist resting against the crystal horseshoe bracelet Damen gave me that day at the track, and this time, when I’m ready to move, I do. My breath slowly returning to normal again, the spell of him waning more and more with every step I put between us.

Knowing he deserves an answer, that there’s no way I can leave it like this, I take a deep breath and say, “I discovered something.” I sneak a quick peek before I quickly look away. “Something about the past…something that—” I swallow hard and start again, voice surer, stronger when I add, “Something he’s been hiding for a very long time.”

Jude looks at me without a trace of surprise. He’s alluded to Damen’s secrets on more than one occasion. Of his inability to fight fair, especially when fighting for me. But then, in Damen’s defense, he’s freely admitted to all of that too. In fact, he felt so bad, so wracked with guilt, he actually chose to step aside for a while so I could make a clean choice for myself.

And I did.

I chose him.

For me it was never a contest. From the moment we met, he’s all I could see.

But what if I’ve been wrong?

What if all this time—Jude was meant to be the one?

I mean, he’s stood right there beside me in all of my lives—including the one I just recently learned about. And yet he’s always the loser, always the one getting shot down. Always the one who ends up alone.

But what if it was never supposed to happen like that?

What if all this time, I’ve been so captivated, so swayed by Damen’s magick I’ve made the wrong choice every time?

Why is it that we keep coming back to each other again and again? Is it so we’ll have yet another chance at getting it right—to finally be together after all of this time?

I gaze at Jude standing before me—he’s mesmerizing. Not in the same way that Roman was with his slick, golden glossiness—or even in the way of Damen’s dark and sexy tingle and heat. No, Jude’s more the cool and dreamy type—seemingly normal on the surface, but deep down inside, he’s so much more.

“Ever—” He starts, his expression waging the battle between wanting to just grab me and kiss me, and wanting to show some restraint and try to talk to me first. “Ever, what did you see? What is it that was so bad it brought you to me?”

And the way he says it, so aware of his age-old position as the discarded one—well, my heart breaks on his behalf.

I turn away, taking in the bleachers, the scuffed wood floor, the basketball net with the hole in the side, allowing for whatever remains of his lure to wear off, so that logic and a long list of questions can stand in their place.

Deciding to be firm and up-front, just state the facts as they are and see where it leads, I turn to him and say, “A while back, you sort of—” I shake my head. “No, not sort of, you definitely alluded to knowing some kind of secret about our shared pasts. It was after you’d been to the Great Halls of Learning for the very first time and everything about you seemed different. And when I asked you what happened in there, you played it pretty vague. But later, you mentioned some stuff about Damen not playing fair in the past, and how all that was about to change because, as you put it: knowledge is power, and, thanks to Summerland, you had that in spades—or something to that effect, and anyway, I need to know what that meant.”

I stand before him, silent and still, waiting for him to respond. Watching as he squinches his eyes together as he rubs the space between them, fingers digging in deep, before he drops his hands to his sides and takes me in.

“Where would you like me to start?” He shrugs, following it with a laugh that’s much closer to harsh and gruff than anything resembling joy.

And I start to say, anywhere, start anywhere you choose, figuring it might be good to let him take the lead on this one, and allow him to reveal the things he thinks I should know. But then I think better. Despite the fact that I know Damen edited all of my lives, which means every last one of them holds some sort of secret he’d prefer I not know, well, there’s only one life—one secret—I really need to know right now.

Only one in particular that brought me to this point—that made me want to kiss him to see where it led.

“The South.” I look at him. “The antebellum South. What do you know about our lives back then—when you and I were both slaves?”

He blanches, like seriously blanches. The light draining from his eyes so fast I can hardly believe I just witnessed that. Mumbling something inaudible under his breath as his gaze darts all around, pausing on the school mascot painted on the wall, while his hands and feet begin a nervous, fidgety dance.

And seeing him react like that, well, I can’t help but wonder if I just unwittingly revealed something he didn’t yet know.

But the thought vanishes just as quickly when he finally turns to me and says, “So, you know.” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I gotta tell ya, Ever, I’m pretty shocked he’d even tell you about it. I have to say, no matter what I may think of him—that was pretty damn gutsy on his part. Or maybe just reckless, who knows?”

“He didn’t tell me,” I blurt, before I can stop. “Well, not exactly anyway. Let’s just say I sort of…stumbled upon something he definitely didn’t want me to see.”

Jude nods, gaze narrowing, changing, as it slowly moves over me. His voice grave and serious when he says, “Can’t say I blame him. It was definitely one of our very worst ones—if not the worst.” He shrugs. “Or at least that’s the way it turned out for me…”