She sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes in a way that reminds me of the old Haven, the one who used to be my friend, but just as quickly it’s gone when she says, “And even more importantly, why would you even care? Because in case you haven’t noticed, the school rules are pretty much useless for people like us. We can dowhatever the hell we want,whenever the hell we want, andno one can stop us.

So not only do you need to lighten up and fugging unclenchas usual —but you also need to put your sucking-up talents to much better use. Because if you’re determined to get on anyone’s good side, it should bemine .” She quirks her brow, and stares right into my eyes. “I mean, you’ve already ruined Damen—ever since he hooked up with you he’s like, destination boring town.” She takes a moment to grin at the remark. “Still, I am thinking of transferring into his fifth-period AP English class, and I’ll probably even sit next to him if I do. Does that bother you?”

I shrug, busying myself with my nails, even though they’re clean, smooth, unpolished, and so short there’s not much to see. But I won’t give in to her badgering, and I certainly won’t give her the satisfaction she seeks.

But it’s not like she cares, she’d much rather hear the sound of her own voice anyway, so she just forges ahead when she says, “I mean, on the one hand, he really has lost that exciting bad boy edge I loved so much—but on the other, I’m willing to bet he’s still got a good bit of it somewhere buried down deep.

Really,really deep.” Her gaze gone sparkly and bright as it lands on me. “Because when something’s that ingrained , when something stretches all the way back through the centuries, well, it’s hard to shake it completely, if you know what I mean.”

Not only do I have no idea what she means, but no way of peeking into her mind to see for myself, since her shield is far too powerful for that. All I can do is just stand there and pretend not to care. Act as though her words aren’t causing the slightest bit of curiosity or interest, even though I’m ashamed to admit that they are.

She knows something. That much is clear. This isn’t just posturing on her part. She’s onto something about Damen—about his past—and she’s practically begging me to make her reveal it.

Which is exactly why I can’t.

“I mean, as you’ve probably already guessed, Roman told me some pretty sordid stuff. Some of which you probably already know so there’s no use going over it again, but then, just the other day, I was going through some of his belongings when I came across this whole stack of diaries.” She pauses, allowing plenty of time for her words to sink in. “I mean, you should’ve seen it—it was like—stacks and stacks of them—entire boxes full. Turns out, Roman documentedeverything . Kept hundreds, hell, maybe even thousands of journals—I totally lost count. But anyway, from what I can tell, they stretch all the way back through the centuries. He wasn’t just collecting antiques and artifacts—he was collecting history.His history.The immortals ’ history. There are photos, painted portraits, cards, letters—the works. Unlike Damen, Roman kept in touch. He didn’t just move on with his life and leave the other orphans to fend for themselves, he looked after them. And after a hundred and fifty years passed and the elixir began to wear off, he made a new one—abetter one. Then he tracked them all down and had them drink from it again.

And he kept it up, through all those years, never once letting anyone down. Never once leaving anyone to flounder—or wither—ordie, like Damen did. I mean, he may have had his issues with you guys, but then there’s no doubt that he had good reason—you were his only enemies. The only ones who saw him as this horrible, evil immortal who deserved what he got. To everyone else, he was a hero. He cared about them, offered them a better—eternal—life. Unlike the two of you, he believed in sharing the riches—and he did so freely—with those he deemed worthy.”

I narrow my gaze even further, nearing the end of my patience and needing her to know it. “So why didn’t he share it freely withyou , then?” My gaze burns on hers. “Why the big game—why trickme into doing it?”

But Haven waves it away. “We’ve been over that, he was just having a little fun. I was never in any danger. He totally would’ve brought me back if he had to.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, clearly annoyed by the interruption. “Anyway,” she says, putting major emphasis on the word, “about the diaries and photos and stuff—let’s just say that some of it would be ofgreat interest to you—” She pauses, obviously hoping I’ll take the opportunity to beg to hear more.

But it’s not gonna happen. Even though her words instantly remind me of something that both Romanand Jude alluded to when they hinted about some sordid secret in Damen’s past—even though I can’t help but think of yesterday in the pavilion when I stumbled upon the life Damen so desperately tried to keep hidden from me—I can’t ask for more. Can’t let her know that it’s working—that I care—that her words have crept right under my skin. Can’t let her win this one.

So, instead, I just lift my shoulders and sigh as though I’m bored beyond belief and couldn’t care less if she says another word.

Which causes her to frown and say, “Whatever. It’s not like you can fool me with all of your sighing and shoulder shrugging. Iknow you want to know, and I can’t say I blame you. Damen’s got secrets. Big, juicy, dark, and dirty secrets.” She turns toward the mirror, leaning toward it as she fluffs her hair and admires herself, entranced by the sight of her own reflection. “But—I’m perfectly fine with saving all that for another day. I mean, it’s not like I don’t get your point—the past is the past and all that. Until the day it comes back to bite you in the ass anyway. But, whatever. I mean, he’s just so tall, dark, and dreamy, who cares what atrocities he’s committed over the course of the last several hundred years,right ?” She quirks a brow and looks at me, tilting her head to the side and allowing her glossy dark waves to spill down the front of her dress. Moving toward me, slowly, deliberately, twirling a lock of hair between her fingers, doing her best to put me on edge.