Night Star

thirty-two

“So, how’d it go?” I glance at Damen, watching as he settles into the passenger seat and closes his door as I pull away from the curb.

“Good.” He nods, shutting his eyes for a moment as he lowers the top with his mind, taking a long deep breath of cool evening air before he looks at me and says, “We’re going surfing this weekend.”

I gape, more than a little surprised to hear that. I mean, I originally thought he’d be lucky to get the cease-fire he was after, I never even considered they might become friends.

“So, is this, like, a date?” I tease, wondering how long it’s been since Damen’s been able to have a friend—a real and true guy-type friend—one who actually knows the truth about him.

“Never.” He glances at me. “I’ve never had a friend who knew the truth about me. And, to be honest, it’s been a very, very long time since I even tried to connect in that way.” He averts his gaze, taking in the shops, the trees, the pedestrians crowding the crosswalks and streets, before he turns back and says, “Friendships for me were always short-lived since I had no choice but to move on after a certain number of years. People get suspicious when you stay exactly the same while they age, and after a while, well, it just seems easier to avoid those types of things.”

I swallow hard and concentrate on the drive. Even though it’s not the first time he’s said it, it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. Especially when I relate it to me and my life and the long list of good-byes I have to look forward to.

“Do you mind taking me home?” he asks, the request jolting me right out of my thoughts as I gape at him in surprise. I was sure he’d try to drag me off to the pavilion again, and to be honest I had no plans to deny him.

“Miles is meeting me back at the house. I told him I’d help him run some lines for a play he’s auditioning for.”

I shake my head and laugh, making a right on Coast Highway before stealing a quick peek at him. “Got any time in there for me, you know, amongst all of these playdates of yours?” Only partially teasing as I press the accelerator and cruise along the winding curves.

“Always.” He smiles, leaning in to kiss me but ending up distracting me so badly I nearly run the car off the road.

I push him away and right the wheel again. Gazing out at the ocean, watching the waves turn to foaming white froth as they crash against the shore, and clearing my throat as I turn to him and say, “Damen, what are we gonna do about the antidote?” Seeing the way his shoulders stiffen, feeling the way his energy shifts and changes but still forging ahead, knowing it has to be said. “I mean, I’m fully committed to you, to us, I think you know that by now. And as much as I enjoy our time in the pavilion, well—” I swallow hard, I’ve never been much good at discussing this kind of thing, I always end up a red-faced, embarrassed, sputtering mess, but still, I’m determined to get to it. “I miss you. I miss being able to touch you in this life. Not to mention I was hoping that someday we could break this four-hundred-year-old-dry spell and—”

I pause before his gate, waving at Sheila, who motions us in. Taking the hill and the series of turns that lead to his street, before braking in his driveway and swiveling in my seat until I’m fully facing him.

Just about to finish the thought when he says, “Ever, I know. Believe me, I do.” He reaches for me, cups his hand to the side of my face, as his eyes fix on mine. “And I haven’t given up. I’ve even gone so far as to turn the wine cellar into a sort of chemistry lab—and I’ve spent every spare moment in there hoping to surprise you.”

My eyes go wide, trying to calculate just how long it’s been since I last poked around Damen’s house, realizing it’s been a while. When I haven’t been avoiding him for one reason or another, we’ve been either training or making out in the pavilion.

“But if the wine cellar is a chem lab, then where do you store the elixir?” I ask, frowning as I try to picture it for myself.

“In the new wine cellar, where the laundry room used to be.”

“And the laundry room?”

“Gone.” He laughs. “But then, I never really saw the point of it anyway, when I can just manifest new, clean stuff whenever I need it.” But his smile soon fades when he says, “But, Ever, I don’t want to get your hopes up, because while I haven’t given up trying, well, so far at least, it’s been pretty slow going. I have no idea what Roman put in that drink, but everything I’ve tried up to this point has failed.”

I sigh, pushing my cheek hard against his palm, aware of the almost feel of his skin upon mine. Telling myself it’s enough, that it will always be enough, but even though I’m fully committed to that, I still can’t help wishing for more.

“We have to get that shirt.” My gaze meets his. “We have to find it. I know she still has it. There’s no way she’d get rid of it. She’s either keeping it for sentimental reasons or because she knows what it’s worth to me, or both. But, either way, it’s pretty much our only hope at this point.”

He looks at me in the exact same way he did the last time we discussed it—in full agreement that it is indeed important but completely unwilling to pin all of his hopes upon it.

“Surely it’s not our only hope?” he says.

But I shake my head. I’m not patient like him. I don’t want to spend the next several years enjoying brief respites in the various guises of my former self, just so we can enjoy a chaste smooch now and then, while he fiddles around in his former wine-cellar-turned-chem-lab on the side. I want to enjoy this life. The one I’m in now.

I want to enjoy it as fully and normally as any other girl would.

And I want to enjoy it with him.

“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?” he says, his voice as resigned as his sigh.

I shake my head again.

“Then I’m going with you.”

“Going where? I haven’t admitted to going anywhere.”

“Aw, maybe not, but a plan is surely forming, I can see it in your eyes. So you better make room for one more, because I’m coming with.”

“No, you hang with Miles, I’ll be fine. Really.”

But despite my protest, he’s already grabbing his phone, already texting Miles and telling him he’s got an errand to run so he’ll be a little late.

“So, where should we start?” he asks, pocketing his cell.

“The store.” I nod, having just confirmed it for myself. “But really, you don’t have to come, I’ll be fine on my own,” I add, giving him one last chance to back out.

“Forget it.” He buckles his seat belt again. “I’m coming along whether you like it or not. And just so you know, all this refusal, well, it’s really starting to give me a complex.”

I look at him, having no idea what that meant.

“Last time? When you broke into Haven’s house and chose to drag Miles along instead of me?”

I look at him, thinking I hardly dragged Miles, not to mention that I really didn’t have a chance to invite him since he was guarding Stacia. But then again, that’s not really the point. What I really want to know is how he happened to know about that when I hadn’t quite gotten around to filling him in on all of those details just yet.

“Miles mentioned it,” he says, answering the thought in my head.

I glance out the window, my eyes narrowed as I say, “Is this what it’s going to be like now that you’re Mr. Popular with all your new friends?” I turn toward him. “You’re gonna spend all your free time coaxing them to spill my secrets?”

“Only the good stuff.” Damen smiles, pressing his lips briefly to mine as I back out of his drive and make my way toward the gate. “Only the stuff I really need to know.”