My eyes instantly locate her neck, searching through the complicated tangle of dark, shining jewelry, only to see that he’s right. The amulet we gave her, the one that was meant to keep her safe from harm, safe from me, is no longer there. And I know it’s no accident, nothing of the kind. It’s a message meant for me. One that’s intended to scream loud and clear:
I don’t need you. I’ve outgrown you. I’ve transcended you completely.
Having risen to a pinnacle of power of her very own making, she’s now in a place where she no longer fears me.
Despite the fact that her aura is no longer visible, hasn’t been since the night I had her drink from the elixir that turned her immortal like me, it’s not like she needs one for me to sense what she’s thinking.
To know how she’s feeling.
Her grief over Roman, combined with her rage toward me, is what spawned this whole thing. She’s completely guided, completely redefined, by an overwhelming sense of anger and loss, and is now seeking revenge on every single person who’s ever once done her wrong.
Beginning with me.
Damen stops in his tracks and pulls me close to his side, allowing me one last chance to cry uncle and bail on this scene, but I won’t. Can’t. While I’m fully committed to letting her make the first move, the second she does I’ll have absolutely no problem reminding her just who’s in charge around here. It’s what I’ve been training for. And while she may feel confident and sure of herself now, I happen to know something she doesn’t:
She may feel strong, empowered, and completely invincible—but her powers can’t even begin to touch mine.
Damen shoots me a worried glance, aware of the pierce of her gaze, little arrows of hate aimed straight at me. But I just shrug and keep moving, leading him toward our usual table, the one she surely thinks is beneath her, knowing that the hateful looks are just the beginning, something we’d better get used to if we’ve any hope of surviving the year.
“You okay?” He leans toward me, concern in his eyes, hand on my knee.
I nod, gaze never once leaving hers, knowing that if she’s anything like Roman, she’ll drag this thing out like a cat with a mouse, take her sweet time before she moves in for the kill.
“Because I want you to know that I’m here. I’ll always be here. Even though we don’t have any classes together, thanks to you I might add”—he shakes his head—“I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I won’t cut, sneak out, play truant, or anything of the sort. I’ll go to every last boring class on this godforsaken schedule of mine. Which means if you need me, all you have to do is call and I’ll—”
“Be there.” I meet his gaze, but only for a moment before it returns to her. Watching as she revels in her position as the new queen of the A list, presiding over a table that just a few months before she wasn’t even allowed to walk past, much less sit at. And I can only assume that Stacia and Honor decided to exercise their new senior year privilege of going off campus for lunch, since they would never allow
this to happen if they were around, which only makes me wonder how they’ll react when they return to find Haven has taken their place.
“Listen,” I say, twisting the top from my elixir and taking a sip. “We’ve been over this, and I’m fine. I can handle it. I can handle her. Really.” I turn toward him, giving him a look that shows just how much I mean it. “We have an eternity together—just you and me and infinity.” I smile. “So it’s not like we need to sit next to each other in physics too, right?” My heart practically skipping when I see the way his eyes brighten, his mood lightens, and he smiles too. “You have no reason to worry about me. Between my meditations with Ava and my training with you—I’m like a new and improved, more powerful me! And I can handle Haven, believe me, I’ve no doubt about that.”
He glances between us, his face a mask of apprehension, obviously struggling between his own nagging doubt and his desire to believe. Despite my continued assurances, his fears for my safety, his belief that he alone is to blame for setting this whole thing in motion the day he decided to turn me, is what keeps him from fully taking that leap.
“Okay, but one last thing—” He tilts my chin until I’m eye level with him. “Just remember that she’s angry, powerful, and reckless—a dangerous combination if there ever was one.”
I nod, not missing a beat when I reply, “Well, that may be true, but don’t you forget that I’m centered, more powerful, and have way more control than she ever will. Which means she can’t hurt me. No matter how badly she may want to—no matter how hard she tries—she won’t win this one. Not to mention, I have something she doesn’t—”
He looks at me, eyes narrowed, not anticipating this sudden change in the script we’ve rehearsed so many times.
“You. I have you. Always and forever, right? Or at least that’s what you said last night when you were trying to ravish me in the English countryside…”
Oh, so it was me trying to ravish you? You sure about that? He laughs, closing his eyes as he presses his lips to mine, at first softly, gently, then with more urgency. Kissing me in a way that causes my entire body to ignite with the kind of tingle and heat only he can provide, only to pull away just as quickly, knowing we can’t risk losing our focus this way.
These things can wait. Haven cannot.
I’ve barely had a chance to cool down and pull myself together again, when Miles steps out of the crowd, away from her table, and heads in our direction. Stopping just a few feet away, taking a moment for a quick spin around, allowing for the full, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of himself, before nailing the stop in a modelesque pose, complete with steely gaze, pouty mouth, and a hand perched on each hip.
“Notice anything different?” His eyes dart between us. “Because excuse me for saying so, but Haven’s not the only one who had a transformational summer, you know?” He drops the pose and moves closer. “So in case you didn’t hear me before, allow me to repeat myself. ‘Notice. Anything. Different?’ He pronounces the words slowly, deliberately, taking time to enunciate each and every one.
And when I look at him—when we look at him—it’s as though everything comes to a screeching, slamming halt. All breathing, blinking, and heartbeating is instantly replaced by sheer, awkward, open-mouthed gaping. Reducing us to nothing more than two frozen immortals, sitting side by side, wondering if we’re gazing upon a third.
“So, come on, tell me…whaddya think?” Miles sings, doing another quick spin before landing yet another pose he’s determined to hold ’til one of us speaks. “Holt didn’t even recognize me.”
What do I think? I think the word different doesn’t even begin to describe it. My eyes dart toward Damen, before settling back on Miles again. Heck, even radically altered or completely transformed barely cuts it! I shake my head.
The brown hair he’s worn cropped for as long as I’ve known him is now longer, wavier, almost like Damen’s. And the baby fat that once padded his cheeks, making him look a good two years younger, has now vanished completely, paving the way for things like cheekbones, a square jawline, and a more defined nose. Even his clothes, which pretty much consist of the usual jeans, shoes, and shirt he always wore, somehow look entirely altered—different—nothing like before.
Like a caterpillar that decided to ditch his ratty old cocoon so he could show off his new and improved butterfly wings.