“Of course you do,” I say, completely unfazed. This is pretty much exactly what I expected, it’s all moving along just as I planned. “But that’s only because you’ve never experienced that before. Six hundred years and you’ve never known a moment of real and true love. It’s sad. Tragic really. But it’s hardly your fault. So, for the record, this is what it feels like, Roman. This is what it looks like. I just want you to know that, despite all you’ve done, I forgive you. And because I forgive you, because I release you, you can’t get to me or hurt me anymore. If you never give me the antidote—well, Damen and I will work around it, because that’s what soul mates do. That’s what true love is. It cannot be broken, it cannot be chipped away, it’s eternal, everlasting, and it can weather any storm. So if you’re determined to continue like this, I just want you to know you’ll get no resistance from me. I’m done with all that. I’ve got a life to live—how about you?”

He looks at me, and for a brief moment, I know I’ve got him. I see the flash in his eye, the blip of understanding that the game is now over. That it requires two players, and one just dropped out. But then, just as quickly, it’s gone and the old Roman’s returned, saying, “Come on, darlin’—you serious with all this? You mean to tell me you plan to spend the rest of your immortal life settling for a chaste bit of hand-holding? Hell, you can’t even do that—despite the energy condom you’ve made—it’s nothin’ like the real thing now is it, luv? Nothin’ like this.”

And before I know it, he’s beside me, his hand gripping my leg, gaze deep, intense, locked on mine as he says, “I may have never known the kind of love you’re blabbering on about, but I’ve had plenty of the other kind—this kind.” His fingers inch higher. “And I’m telling you, darlin’, in a pinch, it’s just as good if not better. And I can’t stand the idea of you missing out.”

“Then give me the antidote and I don’t have to miss out,” I say, smiling sweetly, making no attempt to remove his fingers from my flesh. That’s what he wants me to do. He wants me to freak out and resist. To throw him against the wall. Make a menace of myself. The usual routine. But not this time. Nope. This time I’ve got too much to prove. Too much to lose. Besides, I’m about to show him just how boring the game can be when only one decides to play.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To win this one?”

“It’s a win-win, wouldn’t you say? You do something nice—something nice will be done for you—it’s karma. It’s a ripple effect. It’s no fail.”

“Oh, back to that, are we?” He rolls his eyes. “I say, that Damen bloke’s really done a number on you.”

“Maybe.” I smile, refusing to rise to his bait. “Or maybe not. You never know until you try it, right?”

“What? You think I’ve never done anything nice?”

“I think it’s been a while. You’re probably a bit rusty by now.”

He laughs, throws his head back and laughs, but he doesn’t remove his hand, no, it stays right there, smoothing my thigh.

“Okay, Ever, theoretically speaking, let’s say I did do this one small thing for you. Let’s say I did give you the antidote that would allow you and Damen to shag your little hearts out. Then what? How long do I have to wait for this so-called good karma to boomerang back at me? Can you tell me that?”

I shrug. “From what I’ve seen, you can’t force karma, it works on its own terms. All I know is, it works.”

“So, I’m supposed to just hand over something to you, something you desperately want, and risk getting nothing in return? That hardly seems fair darlin’, so maybe you should reconsider, maybe there’s something you can give to me.” He smiles, sliding his hand much higher, way higher, too high. And when he gazes into my eyes, trying to overpower me, lure me into his head like he used to—it doesn’t work. I remain right where I am, rooted in place.

And yet, that simple act alone has spawned an idea, one that might move this along even quicker than I hoped, and get me to the Montage, where I told Damen we’d meet.

“Well,” I say, doing my best to ignore the feel of his fingers splayed across my thigh. “If you won’t trust karma, will you at least trust me?”

He looks at me, head titled, Ouroboros tattoo flashing in and out of view.

“Because, come to think of it, I do have something to give you. Something I know for sure that you want. Something that only I can give you.”

“Well, bugger that!” He smiles. “Now we’re talkin’. I knew you’d come around eventually, I knew you’d see the light.” He scoots even closer, grips my leg tighter.

But I just continue to sit there, breathing steadily, evenly, aware of the light still shining inside me when I say, “It’s not that—it’s—it’s something much better than that.”

He squints. “Aw, now don’t be so hard on yerself, darlin’. First time’s always a wash. I promise we’ll have plenty of goes for you to improve your skills and get better.”

And even though he laughs when he says it, obviously wanting me to laugh too, I don’t. I’m still thinking about what I just said, this new plan now forming in my head. Knowing it won’t be exactly what he expects, and may cause him to hate me even more, but still, it’s the only way I can think of to get him to connect—well, if one can actually connect with a lost soul, that is . . .