Page 39 of A Fate Everlasting

Lilibeth stood at the center, leading the charge, her gaze fixed past me. Curious despite myself, I followed their line of sight just in time to see Hugo run a hand through his golden hair. A lazy wave followed, and the effect was immediate.

One girl let out a tinysqueakbefore practically melting into the pavement. The others giggled louder, shuffling back as if proximity alone might incinerate them. They scattered as he approached, vanishing into the corridor like a flock of spooked pigeons.

“Arabella.” His voice was warm, rich as caramel, the kind of voice that slid too easily into the cracks of a person, settling there before they could think to stop it. “I wondered if you fancied a drive.”

“Sure,” I said, though I should have said no. I should have told him I was too busy and needed to focus on saving myself. But my world was falling apart, and I wanted to feel something other than soul-crushing dread. “I could use a drive.”

“Thought so.” A tiny spark shivered up my arm as he helped me up. He was like a tonic, being close to him made me forget everything for just a moment. By the time we reached the circular driveway, it was raining, misting against the windshields of the few parked cars.

Hugo clicked his keys, and a sleek, white vintage Aston Martin purred to life.

I stared. Of course this was his car. He smirked, waiting until I was seated before shutting the door and jogging around to the driver’s side.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to leave the grounds?” I asked as he slid in. He rested his arm over the back of my seat, turning his head to reverse.

“My commitment to Evermore as a celebrity affords me some privileges,” he drawled. His hand brushed against my shoulder, and I felt my cheeks heat. “My life wasn’t an easy one to give up,” he added.

“So why did you?”

He shifted gears, the corner of his mouth lifting like he knew how dazzling he looked. “Let me think… what would you rather? Become immortal, or star in cheesy romantic comedies targeted at teens until you age out at thirty?” The gate warden bowed at the raised sigil etched on the pass Hugo flashed.

“I see your point,” I muttered as rain pattered against the windshield. “But it’s not guaranteed.”

“My score’s just fine,” he said lightly, but I wasn’t really listening anymore. His eyes stayed on the road, making effortless turns through the winding countryside. “I have a feeling we’ll both be fine.”

He couldn’t have been more off the mark. I leaned against the window, watching the hedges whip past us. “I wanted to be an actress.”

“You still can be,” he said gently. I swallowed against the taste of regret and longing, thick on my tongue. “You’d better work on your ether, though. Nephilim who rejoin the Common World have the best shot at acting, followed by Fates, then Angels.” He tipped his head, golden hair catching the dim light like a halo. “We don’t expire. We don’t fade. We’ll always beperfect.”

A shiver danced down my spine. The words shouldn’t have thrilled me the way they did, curling around my ribs with desire. I hadn’t seen this place as an advantage until now, hadn’t seengraduatingas an advantage. If someone like Hugo, someone with everything I’d ever dreamed of had abandoned it for a shot at becoming a Nephilim, maybe staying wasn’t so bad.

“And Daemons?” I asked quietly as Hugo made a sharp turn.

He paused before responding. “Everywhere in Hollywood,” he said at last. “Not exactly a glowing reputation.” He hadn’t even been marked and he’d chosen his side. His confidence made me relax, my shoulders dropping against the seat. Because around Hugo, the world felt different.Ifelt different. Like I wasn’t already running out of time, like my future wasn’t a narrowing tunnel collapsing in on itself. He made it feel vast, endless,possible. Like I had a future, still.

By the time we returned, the rain had been swallowed by Evermore’s mist. The world outside was hushed, still. The gas lamps flickered, casting halos on Hugo’s gleaming car. He turned to me, his gaze lingering, searching, like he was trying to memorize me.

A sudden gust blew my coat open. Hugo’s hand shot out, locking it at my throat before I even felt the cold. His brows knitted, bewildered. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Been doing that all day, like my nerves fire before my brain, recently. Anyway,” he mused, his voice deeper, threading warmth through the cool night air. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” I admitted.

I knew what was coming. I felt it in the way his focus lingered on my lips, the way the air between us thinned. Then his hand lifted, his fingers ghosted along my jaw, his touch impossibly light. He tilted my chin up, and I let him. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, the only sound.

And then,finally, his lips brushed mine. Soft at first. A whisper, a question. But then he pressed deeper, and the world cracked open. Heat unfurled low in my stomach, and I swayedtoward him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if to anchor myself. His other hand skimmed my waist, steadying me, yet everything inside me was coming undone.

My hands threaded through his hair, the rain picking up again, beading against his skin as we leaned against his car. I found an anchor in his warmth. It all faded away.The Rift. My score. Evermore. The cards.None of it mattered.

The Thread roared. This was not a whisper, nor a warning. It felt like a slap, a shock. My fingers twitched against Hugo’s jacket.

His lips lingered against mine before he finally pulled back, just far enough to search my face. His eyes, once amber in a way that looked gold, darkened. His hand trailed lower, dipping to the pendant resting at the hollow of my throat, thumb skimming over the chain. I felt the Thread shudder.

“This necklace,” he murmured, voice like spun gold. His features tightened as he studied it. “A girl as pretty as you shouldn’t wear something so…worn.”

“It’s sentimental.” I drew back. “My mother gave it to me.”

“I could get you something better,” he murmured, coaxing. “We could go tomorrow. Pick something out.”

For a second, I saw something else in him: the flashy red carpet smile, the practiced tilt of his head. He was looking at me like a scene partner, someone to dress and direct. The unease curled low in my stomach, but I forced it down, shaping my lips into a smile as if that alone could smooth the edges of whatever this was. “Maybe.”

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