If this stuff really worked, then Drina and Roman would still be here, right? And since they’re not, well, I guess that means they weren’t really all that immortal after all, were they?’” He stops and looks at me, his gaze boring into mine. “So then she said that as soon as she’s done away withyou, that little issue will be fixed for good. That I just need to trust her, that her elixir isway better than yours and all I needed to do was take a couple sips and eternal health, eternal well-being, eternal beauty, and eternal life would be mine, for, well,eternity .”

I swallow hard, my gaze fixed on his aura, now beaming a bright shade of yellow. The only assurance I have that he didn’t take the bait—or at least not yet anyway.

“And, I gotta tell ya, she was so convincing in her sales pitch, I told her I’d have to think it over.” He shrugs. “Told her I’d do a little research of my own and get back to her in a week or so.”

I balk, so many words rushing forth at once I have no idea where to start.

But he just bursts into a deep, belly-clutching laugh, shaking his head as he looks at me. “Relax. I’m totally joking. I mean, jeez, what do you take me for—some kind of vain, superficial idiot?” He rolls his eyes, then catches himself when he adds, “Sorry, I meant no offense. But the point is, I told herno . a flat-out, unequivocalno . And she told me that the offer still stands, that if I change my mind at any time, the fountain of youth will be mine.”

I gaze at him, seeing him in a whole new light. Amazed that he would actually turn down an offer like that. I mean, Jude always claims he wouldn’t choose immortality, but then he’s never actually been offered a drink, so who’s to say what he’d choose if it really came down to it? And Ava, well, Ava came really, really close to making the leap, but in the end, she dumped it out. But still, I can’t think of many other people besides Miles and Ava who would turn down an offer like that.

He looks at me, brow raised in mock offense when he says, “What? Why are you so surprised? Is it because you figured someone like me—someone who’s bothgay and anactor would surely just jump at the chance?” He narrows his gaze and shakes his head. “That’s stereotyping, Ever. You should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking it.” He shoots me a look of absolute scorn that leaves me feeling so bad I rush to defend myself. But before I can start, he’s waved it away. Smiling triumphantly when he says, “Ha! Andthat is what you call acting!” He laughs, his whole face lighting up, eyes shining with glee.

“Or at least that very last part was acting—the part about the stereotyping. Everything else was totally true. See how much my craft is improving?”

He rakes his fingers through his hair, secures his elbows on the counter, and leans toward me. “Here’s the thing—the only thing I want in the world, the only dream that I have, is to be anactor. ” His gaze bores into mine. “A real, dedicated-to-the-craftthespian . That’s my only goal. My soul’s ambition. I have no interest in being some big, phony, glossed-up movie star. A walkingPeople magazine cover. I’m not in it for the parties, or scandals, or multiple rehab stints—I’m in it for theart . I want to bring stories to life, to fully embody a variety of characters. I can’t tell you what it feels like to lose myself in a role, it’s…it’samazing. And it’s something I want to experience again and again. But I want to play all kinds of roles—not just the young and beautiful ones. And in order to learn and grow and better myself, I need to experiencelife . I need to experience itfully , inall its stages—youth, middle age, old age—I want itall .

You can’t possiblyact life if you don’t allow yourself toexperience it.” He pauses for a moment, allowing his eyes to search my face. “That fear of death you’ve managed to do away with? I want it. Heck, Ineed it. It’s one of the most basic, primal, driving forces we have—so why would I even consider ridding myself of that? The experiences I allow myself to have will only feed my craft in the end—but only if I remain mortal.Not if I purposely turn myself into some frozen-in-time, ultra-glamoroushimbo who never ever changes, no matter how many centuries pass.”

My gaze meets his and I don’t know whether to be relieved or offended, but in the big scheme of things, I settle on relieved.

“Sorry.” He shrugs. “Seriously, no offense. I’m just trying to explain my side of things. Not to mention the fact that I happen tolike eating. In fact, I like it so much that I can’t even imagine going on a permanent liquid diet. Also, Ilike seeing the changes each passing year makes, the impressions they leave behind.And , believe it or not, I don’t want my scars to disappear either. I like them. They’re part ofme —part ofmy history. And someday, if I’m lucky enough to live to be an old man—one who’ll probably be impotent, senile, fat,and bald, while you all stay exactly the same—well, then I’ll be content with my memories. I mean, providing they’re not all lost due to Alzheimer’s or something. But seriously, before you go defending yourself—” He lifts his hand from the counter and flashes his palm, sensing I’m about to butt in. “Before you go telling me how Damen’s racked up enough memories for us all and how he’s perfectly well-rounded and happy, here’s thereal point I’m trying to make: What I want,more than anything , is to reach the end of my life with a solid before-and-after picture to reflect back on. To show I did the absolute best that I could with what I was given and that my life was well-lived.”