Page 137 of White Lights
“And yet, every mortal hasonescene in their life that makes them think they can. Maybe it’s a flash of ecstasy, of hope for the future, whatever.” He purses his lips and looks at Dez. “Or maybe it’s that one missed opportunity. The proverbialalmostthat mortals go so nuts for.”
Dez’s mind spins. What Rafe is saying is that the day she met Asher is the moment in Asher’s life, so far anyway, that would make him want to …
Live forever.
“You are that scene for Asher,” he says. “I think you sensed that. I think that’s why you went looking for it. And I have to say, the whole situation makes me incredibly jealous.”
“Rafe—”
“I’ve never been threatened by a mortal before. But ever since I met you …” His eyes linger on her lips. “I want you to be mine, Dez. Entirely. And I want to be yours.”
Dez holds her breath, torn inside. Her attraction for Rafe is so intense, and the remarkable future that awaits her if she chooses him, if she chooses all of this—it’s overwhelming.
But there’s also Asher, and what she saw of herself through his eyes. Her intuition tells her she could make a thousand scenes with Asher that would make both of them want to live forever. Not just one. So there’d be no way Acheron could censor half of it. It makes her wonder—
“Rafe,” she says. “What’s wrong with wanting to live forever?”
“Nothing’s wrong with wanting it,” he says, his gaze penetrating hers. “It’s just impossible.”
A whistling sound comes from above, and Dez looks toward the Veil to see a dark mass crash through its surface, tearing a visible hole.
She screams as—
Rafe spins her out from underneath the thing before it teeters over the edge of the cliff and tumbles down the mountain.
“Was that a frag?” Dez gasps.
“Yes,” Rafe says, out of breath.
“They’re fallingthroughthe Veil?”
His jaw tenses as he looks up toward it. “The seams are fraying.”
“Oh my god.”
“We don’t understand how they’re breaking through thebarbelo. But it’s getting worse.” He pauses. “I don’t know what to do.”
Dez looks up, alarmed. She’s never heard Rafe like this. “What about Moriah? Dr. Ezekiel? Can’t they help?”
He shakes his head, hardly seeming to hear her question. “If the wrong side finds out where they’re falling from, we’ll lose everything—”
“The war?”
“Yes. The war.”
“Who’s fighting this war, Rafe? Are you?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
He meets her eyes. “On you.”
“Why me?”
“I can’t fight without a protégé. And I chose you as my protégé because when I fight, I win. I need you, Dez. I need your power, your grace, your soul. I need you by my side to save the Veil.”
“I don’t know anything about the Veil, or this war.”
