Dark Flame

by Alyson Noel

  I gaze at him, blinking back the tears as I place my hand on his shoulder and he cups his arm snugly around my waist, twirling me across the dance floor, our feet moving expertly, my skirts swirling in a dizzying haze of blue. So overcome by the beauty he’s created, replicated just for me, I press tightly against him, lips at his ear when I ask if there are any more rooms to see.

  And before I know it, I’m whisked down a confusing maze of halls, to the finest, grandest bedroom I’ve ever seen.

  “Now, granted”—he smiles, pausing in the doorway as I try not to gawk as I take it all in—“this isn’t the Royal Bed Chamber—Marie Antoinette and I were never that close. Though this is an exact replica of the room that I stayed in on my numerous visits—so tell me, what do you think?”

  I make my way across the large woven rug, taking in the silk-covered chairs, the abundance of candles, the liberal use of crystal and gold, making a running leap onto the plush, richly draped, canopied bed and patting the space just beside me as though I don’t have a care in the world.

  Because I don’t.

  I’m in Summerland now.

  Roman can’t reach me.

  “So, what do you think?” He leans over me, gaze sweeping my face.

  I reach up, fingers tracing his high cheekbones, the sharp line of his jaw, when I say, “What do I think?” I shake my head and laugh, the sound light, joyous, the way it used to be. “I think you’re the most amazing boyfriend in the whole entire world. No, I take that back—”

  He looks at me, feigned apprehension in his gaze.

  “I think you’re the most amazing boyfriend on the planet—in the universe!” I smile. “Seriously, who else gets a date like this?”

  “Are you sure you like it?” he asks, real concern moving in.

  I lift my arms, encircling them around his neck as I pull him down to me. Aware of the energy veil that hovers between his lips and mine—allowing for what I’m starting to think of as our now-standard, almost kiss. But still happy to take what I can get.

  “These were such heady times,” he says, pulling away and propping his head on his hand to better see me. “I just wanted you to experience it, get a taste for what it was like, what I was like. I’m so sorry you missed it, Ever, we would’ve had such fun. You would’ve been the belle of the ball—the most beautiful one”—he squints—“no—on second thought, Marie might not have liked that.” He shakes his head and laughs.

  “Why?” My fingers play at the ruffles covering the front of his shirt, sneaking their way between the buttons to the expanse of warm chest beneath. “Did she have designs on you—as they say? And was this before or after Count Fersen split the scene?”

  He laughs. “Before, during, and after. It was definitely the place to be—or at least for a while anyway.” He shakes his head. “And no, for your information, we were merely good friends, she had no designs on me, or none that I noticed at least. I was thinking more in terms of how some beautiful women aren’t always so pleased when another one enters the scene.”

  I look at him, taking in the elegant planes of his face, the lock of glossy dark hair that falls over his eye, thinking how gallant he looks, how noble he is, how this look really suits him, really says who he is, far more than the faded jeans and black motorcycle boots ever did.

  “So what’d Marie Antoinette think of Drina, then?” I ask, remembering her in all of her creamy-skinned, emerald-eyed, redheaded glory—a beauty so great it robbed me of breath. Realizing just after it’s out that I’m actually having a conversation about Damen’s evil ex-wife and not feeling even the slightest twinge of my usual jealousy. And it’s not just because of the magick of Summerland, but because I really, truly am at peace with it now.

  Though, unfortunately, Damen’s not aware of my new outlook, which probably explains why his brow’s gone all slanted and his mouth grim. Wondering if I’m really going to start this up again, after he’s gone to all the trouble to make this for me.

  But I just smile, inviting him to look inside my mind and see for himself. I asked only because I was curious, nothing more. There’s not a hint of jealousy to be found.

  “Drina and Marie didn’t quite care for each other,” he says, visibly relieved with my change of heart. “I mostly came calling on my own.”

  I look at him, imagining all of the beautiful single women who must’ve just swooned the second he walked in the room with no partner beside him—and again, just like before, I feel nothing.

  Everyone has a past. Even, it seems, me. The only thing that really matters is that he loves me. Has always loved me. Spent the last four hundred years searching for me. And I think I finally get just how big a deal that really is.

  “Let’s stay here forever,” I whisper, pulling him to me and covering his face with my kiss. “We’ll just take up residence in this amazing place, and when we get tired of it—if we get tired of it—we’ll just manifest somewhere else to live.”

  “We can do that at home, you know.” He looks at me, gaze tender and deep, hand buried in my hair, smoothing the strands. “We can live anywhere we want—have anything we want—go anywhere we want—just as soon as we graduate high school and move away from Sabine.” He laughs.

  And even though I smile and laugh along with him, I know better.

  I can’t really have this at home.

  Not after the spell that I wove.

  And until I can find a way to break it, this is the one and only place I can be like this, feel like this. The magick will dissolve the second I make my way back through the portal.

  “But in the meantime, there’s really no reason to hurry back—is there?” He grins, tipping my chin ’til my lips meet his.

  He presses against me, his body covering mine, the almost feel of his hands on my skin filling me with tingle and heat. The two of us surrendering to the moment, surrendering to the limits we’ve no choice but to accept. My lips at his ear as I murmur, “No reason I can think of. No reason at all.”

  ten

  “Ever—Ever, wake up! We have to be getting back soon.”

  I roll onto my back and stretch, extending my arms up high over my head, while arching my back and flexing my toes, moving slowly, leisurely, infused with such languid warmth I’m tempted to just roll over again.

  “Seriously.” Damen laughs, his lips at my ear, nipping the lobe in that way that makes me giggle. “We’ve already discussed this, we both agreed we’d return eventually.”

  I lift one droopy lid, then the other, met by an overload of silk, gilt, and the ruffles from Damen’s shirt tickling the tip of my nose—I’m still in Versailles?

  “How long did I sleep?” I stifle a yawn but not very successfully, seeing Damen hovering over me, an amused look on his face.

  “There’s no time in Summerland.” He smiles. “And trust me, I’ll try not to take it personally that you nodded off.”

  I stiffen, wide awake now and gaping. “Wait—you mean I fell asleep while you—while we—” I shake my head, cheeks heating to a thousand degrees. Hardly believing I actually fell asleep—while we were kissing.

  He nods, luckily looking more amused than mad. But still I hide my face with my hands, horrified by even the thought of it.

  “That is so embarrassing. Seriously, I’m so—” I shake my head and cringe. Needing no further testimony to how exhausted I’ve been after everything that’s happened in the past week.

  He rises from the bed, helping me to stand when he says, “Don’t be. Don’t be sorry or embarrassed. You know, in a way it was kind of nice. I don’t recall that ever happening before and you don’t really get to experience many firsts after the first—oh, hundred or so years.” He laughs, pulling me to him as his arms wrap tightly around my waist. “Feeling better?”

  I nod. That’s the first decent sleep I’ve had since—well, since you know who started invading my dreams. And even though I’ve no idea how long I was out, I feel so much better now, like I’m ready to head back to the earth pla
ne and face all of my demons—or at least one in particular.

  “Shall we?” He lifts his brow.

  About to close his eyes and make the veil when I say, “But—what about this place? What’ll happen to it once we leave?”

  He shrugs. “Well, I was going to let it go since we can always manifest it again. You know that, right?” He gives me a strange look.

  And even though I know it’s easy enough for him to re-create it exactly as is, somehow I want it to stay. I want to know that it’s solid and lasting. A place I can return to on a whim, and not just some hazy figment of a really great day.

  He smiles, bowing deeply as he answers my thoughts. “And so it is.” He takes my hand. “Versailles stays.”

  “And this?” I grin, fluffing the frills on his cream-colored shirt, causing him to laugh in a way I don’t hear nearly enough anymore.

  “Well, I thought I’d change for the return trip home—if that’s okay with you?”

  I cock my head and screw my lips to the side, carefully looking him over as I consider. “But I like you like this. You’re so handsome, so gallant—regal, really. It makes me feel like I’m looking at the real you, dressed in the period you seem to have liked best.”

  He shrugs. “I liked ’em all—some better than others, but in retrospect they all had something to offer. And you, by the way, look quite dazzling too.” He trails his fingers over my jewels and down the snug-fitting bodice of my dress. “But still, if we want to fit in back home, a costume change is in order.”

  I sigh, sad to see our eighteenth-century finery replaced by our usual Laguna Beach wear.

  “And now—” He nods, tucking my amulet back under the neck of my dress. “What do you say—my place or yours?”

  “Neither.” I press my lips together, knowing he’s not going to like what comes next but committed to being completely honest with him during the few times I can. “I need to see Jude.”

  He flinches. It’s minor, barely visible to the untrained eye, but still, I see it. And I need him to know what Jude already knows: that there’s no competition. Never really was. Damen won my heart centuries ago. And he’s had it ever since.

  “There was an accident.” I nod, determined to keep my voice calm, even, and just stick to the facts, no matter how gruesome. And though I could just let the scene flow from my head to his—I don’t. There are too many parts I don’t want him to see, things he might take the wrong way, so instead I say, “I—I sort of attacked him—”

  “Ever!” He balks, his expression so shocked it’s all I can do not to look away.

  “I know.” I shake my head, pausing to take a deep breath. “I know how it sounds, but it’s not what you think, I—I was trying to prove he was a rogue—but—well—when I learned that he wasn’t—that’s when I rushed him to the emergency room.”

  “And you failed to tell me this because—” He looks at me, obviously hurt by my neglect.

  I sigh, looking right at him when I say, “Because I was embarrassed. Because I mess up all the time and I didn’t want you to lose patience with me. I mean, not that I’d blame you—but still.” I shrug, scratching my arm even though it doesn’t itch, yet another nervous habit of mine.

  He places his hands squarely on my shoulders, looking me right in the eye when he says, “My feelings for you are not conditional. I don’t judge you. I don’t lose patience with you. I don’t punish you. I just love you. That’s all. Pure and simple.” His eyes search my face, his gaze so warm, so loving, clearly upholding the promise of his words. “You have no reason to hide anything from me—ever. Understood? I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here for you. And if you need anything, find yourself in a bind, or in over your head, all you have to do is ask and I’ll be right there to bail you out.”

  I nod, unable to speak I’m so humbled by my amazingly good fortune, feeling so incredibly lucky to be loved by someone like him—even though I’m not always sure I deserve it.

  “So, you go take care of your friend, I’ll take care of the twins, and we’ll meet up tomorrow, okay?”

  I lean in to kiss him, quickly, careful to let go of his hand since we’re headed in different directions. Closing my eyes long enough to envision the portal before me, that shimmering golden veil that’ll lead me back home.

  I land at Jude’s door, taking a moment to knock a few times, allowing plenty of time for him to answer, before I decide to give up and go in uninvited. Searching every last room in his tiny beach cottage, including the garage and backyard, before locking up and heading straight for the store.

  But on my way there, I pass Roman’s. And all it takes is one look at the window display—one look at the sign overhead, reading: RENAISSANCE!—one look at the open front door that leads directly to him—and just like that, the magick of Summerland is gone and this strange foreign pulse, this horrible invader, has taken over again.

  I will myself forward, summoning every last bit of my strength to move past it. But my legs are too heavy, unwilling to cooperate, and my breath runs too shallow and comes out too quickly.

  I’m rooted. Unable to flee. Overcome by this horrible need to find him—to see him—to be with him. This ugly invader taking over as though my evening of enchantment never happened. As though I was never at peace.

  The beast now awakened, demanding to be fed. And despite my best efforts to get out of this place before it’s too late—it is too late. He’s come to find me.

  “Well, fancy finding you here.”

  Roman leans in the doorway, all golden haired and shiny teethed, his glinting blue eyes fixed right on me. “You’re looking rather—piqued. Everything all right?” His contrived British accent causing his voice to rise in a way that usually annoys me to no end, but now—now I find it so alluring it’s all I can do to stay where I am. Continuing to fight this epic battle now raging inside me—that strange, foreign pulse versus me.

  He laughs, head tossed back in a way that clearly displays the Ouroboros tattoo on his neck—the snake coiling, slithering, its beady eyes seeking mine, as its long, skinny tongue beckons me near.

  And despite everything I know about good and evil, right and wrong, immortals and rogues, I step forward. Taking one small step toward defeat, that’s quickly followed by another. And another. My gaze fixed on Roman—gorgeous, glorious Roman. He’s all I can see. All that I need. Only vaguely aware of that small glimmer of me, still in there somewhere—struggling, shouting, demanding to be heard—but it just can’t compete. And it’s not long before it’s silenced by the single-minded pulse now residing inside me—its sights set on only one thing.

  His name swells on my lips, as I stand right before him, so close I can make out each individual violet fleck in his eyes, and feel the cool chill that emanates off his skin. The same chill I once found abhorrent, repulsive, but not anymore. Now it’s a welcome siren, calling me home.

  “Always knew you’d come around.” He grins, his gaze slowly taking me in as he buries his fingers in my tangle of hair. “Welcome to the dark side, Ever, I think you’ll be quite happy here.” He laughs, the sound of it enveloping me in a delicious frostbitten hug. “Not surprised you shrugged off that old wanker Damen. Figured you’d grow tired of him eventually. All of the waiting—the angst—the gawd-awful soul searching—not to mention the do-gooding.” He shakes his head and grimaces as though the thought alone pains him. “I don’t know how you stood it for as long as you did. And for what, I might ask? Because I hate to break it to you, luv, but there are no future rewards up yonder when your future’s right here.” He stamps his foot on the ground. “A bloody waste of time, it is. No use delaying gratification when the instant kind works best. There are pleasures to be had, Ever. Pleasures of a magnitude you can’t even begin to understand. But, lucky for you, I’m the forgiving type. I’m more than willing to serve as your guide. So, tell me, where should we start, luv, your place or mine?”

  His fingers trail along my cheek, my shoulder, working their way
down to the loose neck of my dress. And even though the feel of it’s icy, bracing, in the strongest sense of the word, I can’t help but lean into it, can’t help but close my eyes and immerse myself in the feel of it, urging him to scoop lower, explore further, prepared to go wherever he takes me—

  “Ever? Is that you? Are you fugging kidding me?”

  I open my eyes to find Haven standing behind us. Her eyes narrowed, blazing with anger as they dart between Roman and me. Not letting up in the slightest when he laughs and pushes me away, discarding me quickly and easily, as though it meant nothing to him.

  “Told you she’d be back, luv.” His gaze sails over my shaky, sweaty body, so overcome with unrequited yearning, it pains me to see him slide his arm around her. The two of them turning their backs on me and heading inside as he says, “You know Ever. She just can’t stay away.”

  eleven

  I run.

  Covering the blocks in a matter of seconds, appearing as a fast-moving blur to all whom I pass. But I don’t care about that. Don’t care what they think—what they see. I care about only one thing—ridding myself of this horrible invader, this mystical trespasser—so the old me can return.

  Bursting through the door just as Jude’s about to lock it, nearly knocking him over though he’s quick to jump out of my way.

  “I need help.” I stand before him, gasping, wheezing, broken beyond repair. “I—I don’t know where else to go.”

  He looks me over, eyes narrowed, brows knit with concern, leading me toward the back room where he pulls out a chair with his foot and motions for me to sit.

  “Easy,” he coos. “Deep breaths. Seriously, Ever. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can be fixed.”

  I shake my head and lean toward him, gripping the arms of my chair, fighting to stay rooted, to not go back there. “But what if you’re wrong?” I say, eyes wild, cheeks flushed, voice high-pitched and shaky. “What if it can’t be worked out? What if I’m—what if I’m broken for good?”