Night Star ti-5

by Alyson Noel

  Because no matter how angry I may be with him, no matter how many doubts I may have about him, I still feel it’s my duty to guard him from Haven.

  “So, I figured we should just get right to it, no use wasting any more time than we already have.”

  He looks at me, face wearing the slightest sheen of sweat. Though it’s unclear if it’s due to the stuffy, hot air or the apprehension of wondering just what it is that he’s gotten himself into, what might be expected of him.

  I take a moment to settle in, dropping my bag in the corner, retying my shoe, and removing my T-shirt to reveal the white, finely ribbed tank top I wear underneath. Smoothing my hands over the front of it and adjusting the elastic waistband of my shorts, as I approach him and say, “Obviously you know about the chakras.” I stand before him, studying him carefully but allowing him no time to react when I add, “I mean, since you so successfully killed Roman that way—”

  “Ever, I—” He starts, but I won’t permit it, won’t allow the flow of excuses to begin. I’ve heard all that, and I’m not one bit swayed. Besides, I can’t afford to be coerced into an argument that may change my mind about him—about this.

  “Save it.” I raise my hand between us. “That’s another topic, for another day. For now, the only thing we’re going to discuss is the fact that Haven has powers you can’t even begin to imagine—” That even I can’t begin to imagine. “Powers she’s pretty drunk on at the moment, which makes her reckless and dangerous and someone you need to steer clear of at all costs. But if by chance you run into her for some reason, or, even worse, she decides to come after you, which, I’m sorry to say, is really the more likely scenario, well, either way, you need to be prepared. So, with all that in mind, with everything you know about her, which chakra would you choose to obliterate her?”

  He looks at me, lip quirked to the side, and it’s clear he’s not taking this at all seriously, which is a grave mistake on his part.

  “The sooner you answer, the sooner we’ll get through this—” I sing, hands on my hips, fingers impatiently tapping against them.

  “Third.” He nods, flattening his palm just under his chest for emphasis. “Solar plexus, otherwise known as the revenge center, the home of deep-seated anger issues, and that sort of thing. So, are we good here? Did I pass? Can I collect my gold star and go home now?” He lifts his spliced brow.

  “Okay, so now I want you to pretend that I’m Haven,” I say, completely ignoring the question along with the obvious plea in his gaze. “And I want you to come at me, to target me in the exact same way you’d target her.”

  “Ever, please,” he begs. “This is ridiculous! I can’t do it. Really. I mean, while I appreciate your concern and all, trust me, it means a lot to me, but this sort of forced reenactment—” He shakes his head, dreadlocks swinging from side to side. “It’s—it’s a little embarrassing. To say the least.”

  “Embarrassing?” My eyes practically bug out of my head. The male ego is pretty much unfathomable to me. “I’m just going to pretend you didn’t even say that. I mean, she has the power to cause you all kinds of hurt before she decides to take mercy and finally finish you off, and you’re worried about being embarrassed? In front of me?” I shake my head again, waving it away with both hands. “Listen, if you’re worried about hurting me—forget it. You won’t and you can’t. It’s completely impossible. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t get to me. So feel free to put that right out of your mind.”

  “Well, that’s reassuring. Not to mention emasculating.” He shakes his head and allows his shoulders to slump.

  “Not trying to insult you.” I shrug. “Just stating the facts, that’s all. I’m stronger. I mean, I think you’ve already experienced plenty of evidence to support that. And, I hate to break it to you, but Haven’s stronger too. And while there’s nothing you can do to change either of those things, she does lack something I have.”

  He looks at me, only partially curious to learn what that is.

  “She stopped wearing her amulet. She’s got nothing protecting her now. Whereas I never remove mine…” I pause, remembering all the times I did in the past and amending the statement when I add, “At least not anymore. Also, my solar plexus is not my weak chakra, not that I’m about to reveal which chakra is my weak one, but anyway, even if you’ve already figured it out by now, even if you decided you were so desperate to get out of here and on with your night that it just might be worth it to do me in, well, then you should know that you wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near it before I’d stop you right in your tracks.”

  He rolls his eyes and sighs, raising his hands in defeat, realizing he really has no choice but to give in. Saying, “Okay. Fine. Whatever. Just tell me, what is it you want me to do? Am I supposed to charge you or something?”

  “Sure, why not?” I shrug, figuring it’s as good a place to start as any.

  But he just looks at me and says, “Because here’s the thing, that is a totally unrealistic situation. I would never just charge Haven or anyone else, not without first being provoked, and probably not even then. I just wouldn’t do it. I’m a pacifist. You know that. It’s not my style. So, I’m sorry to say it, but if you really want me to participate, then you’ll have to come up with something a little better than that.”

  “Okay, fine.” I nod, determined to not let him wriggle his way out of this. “But just so you know, I have no plans to charge Haven either. I have no plans to start anything or go after her in any way. Still, I don’t think either one of us can ignore the fact that she’s vowed to destroy us—she’s made that abundantly clear. And make no mistake—she can destroy us, Jude. Especially you, since you’re so unprepared. She can take you down easily—without even breaking a sweat! So, with that in mind, we both need to prepare ourselves for that event. Even though you’ve made it clear how you have no interest in being immortal, I’m also willing to bet you’re not all that eager to die at Haven’s hand. So, in light of all that, what do you say I charge you first? Would that make you feel better? Because that’s probably how it’ll go down anyway.”

  He shrugs. Shrugs and flips his hands.

  A simple act that annoys me so much, I rush toward him at full force without warning him first.

  Moving so fast that one second he’s standing in the center of the gym, acting all causal and cool, and the next, I’ve knocked him clear across to the other side of the room, where I press him up hard against the padded wall, just like Haven did to me that day in the bathroom. And also like Haven, I’m not the least bit winded from the effort.

  “This is what it’ll be like,” I say, my fingers gripping the front of his shirt, working the fabric so hard a piece of it tears off in my hand. Aware of his cool, shallow breath hitting my cheek, my face a mere razor’s width from his, as I gaze into those surprised aqua-green eyes. “This is how fast it’ll happen. You’ll have no time to react.”

  He meets my gaze, the look deepening, his breath quickening, as a line of sweat drips down his brow, and his heart begins to race.

  Though it’s not the result of fear or even surprise—no, it’s the result of something else entirely.

  Something I immediately recognize.

  It’s the same look he gave me the night we nearly kissed in the Jacuzzi.

  The same look he gave me the night he told me he loved me, that he’s always loved me, through every single one of our lives, and that he’s not about to give up on me anytime soon.

  And even though I want to, even though my rational mind is telling me to let go of his shirt, to turn around, and get myself as far from him as I possibly can—I can’t do it.

  Instead, I just grip tighter, press my body even closer, soothed by the wave of calm that emanates off his skin, as I dive headfirst into those deep ocean eyes of his.

  The small voice in my head reminding me of all the reasons I should run—my long list of suspicions, all the unanswered questions—but my body ignores it. Choosing instead to respond
to him just like the girl in my slave life.

  Lifting my hand to his face, fingers shaking, aching, wanting nothing more than to meld with him.

  To disappear in his skin.

  My name escaping his lips, the sound like a moan. Like it pains him to say it. Like it pains him to feel me so close.

  But I won’t let him continue, won’t let him speak. I just press my fingers to the gentle swell of his lips, discovering their warmth, the way they yield to my touch, and wondering what it would be like to press my mouth there instead.

  Aware of the way his heart pounds against mine, the way it gains in intensity. And even though I try to fight it, even though I really and truly do make a full case against it, there’s just something I have to see for myself. Something I need to know, once and for all, so I can finally kill the question that plagues me. And I’m hoping his kiss will reveal it in the same way Damen’s once did.

  Is there really a connection between us?

  Is it the two of us that are supposed to be together, and Damen who purposely got in the way?

  And knowing there’s only one way to find out, I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and wait for the crush of his lips against mine.

  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…”

  sixteen />
  On Monday, I skip school again so I can go to Lina’s memorial.

  But it’s just an excuse. I would’ve skipped anyway.

  Despite Munoz’s claim that a diploma can only help me ensure a bigger, better, brighter future for myself, well, I beg to differ.

  Maybe it helps normal people by guaranteeing serious consideration from college admissions boards and prospective employers—but those things mean nothing to me. Even though just a week ago it was important to me too, now I finally see how misguided that was. How I’ve been avoiding the obvious fact that there’s just no point in following the normal course of events when I have a life (and a future) that is anything but.

  And it’s time I stop pretending otherwise.

  And, yeah, if I’m going to be perfectly honest, then I also have to admit that Damen plays a part in that decision as well—if not the most major part. Because the thing is, I’m just not ready to face him. Not yet. Maybe someday, maybe even soon, but at the moment, that day feels like a long way away.

  Though to his credit, he seems to be totally on board with it. Allowing me plenty of time and space to figure things out on my own. The occasional manifested red tulip that appears out of nowhere is his only intrusion, serving as a gentle reminder of the love we once shared.

  Still share.

  I think.

  I twist the cap on my bottle of water and gaze around the living room, looking for at least one familiar face in a very large crowd. According to Jude, Lina had no shortage of friends, and from what I can see it’s true. What he failed to mention is just how diverse they all are. I mean, as much as I love living here, Laguna Beach isn’t exactly known for being a melting pot, and yet every ethnicity you could think of is pretty much present and accounted for. And from the blend of accents that trill all around, it’s clear that many of them traveled from great distances for the chance to say their good-byes.