Page 2 of The Immortal’s Curse (Bound to the Immortals #2)

DARCIE

Maine

You want to forget about someone? Easy.

All you have to do is work yourself into oblivion. Pack your schedule so full there's not a second left to think about him—especially if he is a frustratingly silent, maddeningly gorgeous, ageless pain in the ass.

Scrub enough coffee grounds off counters and expensive, Italian-made espresso machines that your arms ache too much to remember how his lips felt on yours.

Say yes to every shift, errand, and small task so there's no time left in the day to wonder if you are some Immortal’s reincarnated soulmate, tethered by an invisible string wrapped around your chests, pulling you— urging you to be together.

Make yourself so damn exhausted that you can’t even dream of the vibrant green eyes that are burned into the back of your mind—eyes that have haunted you for years. Or dwell on how the Immortal’s touch made you feel so alive.

Enough, Darcie !

I grip the sponge in my hand and shake away the troublesome thoughts, scrubbing the coffee-stained counter with renewed effort. The espresso machine hisses beside me, sending steam coiling into the air. Sweat beads on my brow. I wipe it away with the back of my arm.

The Bean Bazaar is packed, just like it’s been the past two Saturdays since I started working here. College students and locals crowd the counter, their chatter filling the air.

It’s been two weeks since I came back to Maine. My first night home, I let myself feel everything—heartbreak, fury, bone-deep fatigue.

I screamed into the dark over how Des shut down after kissing me—like it meant nothing. I worried about Eshe, not knowing if she made it out of Adir’s stronghold alive. But when the sun rose, I made a choice.

No more what-ifs. No more magical drama. No more aching for someone who chose distance over honesty.

Bella promised she’d visit soon. When she does, I’ll know Eshe is okay. That’s the only loose thread I haven’t cut.

Everything else? Snipped.

I’m done with the Immortals.

I’m focusing on my future. I have a job, and I’ve applied to take classes at St. Phillip’s this spring. It’s not my dream school, but I’m grateful the admissions office overlooked the missed deadline—no doubt because Dad works there.

I’ll take some classes, improve my transcript, and transfer to a better school in the fall.

Where? I don’t know yet.

But I have options.

And as long as it’s far away from magic, Immortals, and emotionally stunted men who refuse to communicate, I’ll be just fine.

“You know,” an amused voice says behind me, “I didn’t know these old laminate counters could shine. Apparently, all they needed was your elbow grease.”

I flush and straighten, turning to face my manager.

Alex wears his usual smile, pale blue eyes crinkling at the edges. Tall and lean, Alex has lived in Brunswick for at least ten years. I still remember the older girls on the bus swooning over the cute new barista at the café downtown.

Now, I get it.

With thick black hair and sharp, masculine features, Alex is undeniably attractive. And he’s a great guy. But I get a very clear brotherly vibe from him. Thank God for that. I don’ t need to add “crush on my hot boss” to my list of poor life choices.

“Sorry.” I tuck the sponge behind my back. “I guess I zoned out there a little bit.”

“Clearly.” He chuckles. “Everything okay?”

“Yup, all good.”

He tilts his head, clearly unconvinced. “Excited for classes to start?”

“Yes. Can’t wait.” The spring term starts on Monday. I’m more than ready to drown in lectures, labs, and late-night study sessions—anything to help keep my mind off him.

“I’m glad,” he says, stepping aside as Carl rushes past with a coffee. “But we’ll miss you when your hours are cut back. You’re a great worker.”

I lift my chin under his praise. “Thank you. I’ll give you my updated availability after the first week of classes. I’m sure I'll be able to commit to at least twenty hours a week.”

“There’s no rush. Take your time and make the best decision for you. Studies should come first.”

See what I mean? Big brother energy for sure.

I smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Once again, Alex steps aside so Carl can pass. The space behind the counter is tight. There’s no line at the register, but a small crowd hovers at the pickup counter .

“I should help Carl and Hannah.” I motion to the two other baristas rushing around, making drinks.

“Of course. Let me know if you need help.” He dips his head, then spins on his heel. He heads down the lone hallway that leads to the back of the café, where his office is located.

I walk over to the printer, grab the next ticket, and slap the label on a twelve-ounce cup.

Moving around Carl, whose torso is buried in the under-the-counter fridge, I place the cup under the middle coffee urn and pull the handle.

The aroma of medium roast rises in the air—and suddenly, I’m transported back there .

Sitting across from Thane and Lome, sipping coffee and answering questions I didn’t understand.

There’s no point in reanalyzing our conversation for the millionth time.

I don’t want to think about all the secrets and innuendos dropped during every interaction I had with the Immortals.

Everyone except Eshe kept me in the dark, leaving me vulnerable to Adir’s poisoned words when I was his prisoner.

And now I don’t know what to believe. About them. About me .

It doesn’t matter.

I’ve left the Immortals behind. I have a life to live. And it doesn’t involve them. Des made that abundantly clear.

I huff a self-deprecating laugh—then flinch.

Pain spears through my chest—hot and sharp. My hand flies to my sternum as white bursts of light strobe behind my eyes.

Not again.

I grit my teeth and focus on breathing. One. Two. Inhale . Three. Four. Exhale .

This pain is the one reminder of my time with the Immortals that I can’t control. After a week of enduring the pain, I finally caved and went to see a doctor.

After blood work, a chest X-ray, and an ECG, Doctor McSweeney reported that none of my tests were abnormal. I’m perfectly healthy .

But I know what I feel. And this acute pain? This isn’t normal.

Something is wrong, and it’s causing agony that’s so intense, it can make my vision go white and push me to the brink of unconsciousness.

Thank goodness this episode isn’t so severe.

The pain pulses, gradually beginning to subside. I take ten breaths, then fifteen. Finally, I straighten, blinking through the haze.

“Darcie?”

I look up.

Hannah stands a few feet away. Worry tightens her features. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I paste on a brittle smile. “I think I pulled a muscle reaching over the counter.”

She’s too frazzled to question the lie. “Do you want a break? Carl and I can handle things for a bit.”

Carl groans in protest.

I manage a more genuine smile. “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

She nods and whirls away, blender roaring to life behind her as she makes a Frappuccino.

I walk back toward the printer, pretending everything’s normal, when I feel eyes on me.

I glance toward the hallway.

Alex stands half-shadowed, watching me with a crease between his brows.

I frown. I’d thought he’d gone to his office.

Our eyes meet.

He offers a tight smile, then vanishes back into the hall.

Weird.

Not as weird as nearly passing out from phantom chest pain.

I sigh, low and shaky.

What’s wrong with me ?

My best guess? Adir did something to me when he put me in that weird waking sleep. Or maybe the pain is from travelling through rips. I bet mortal bodies aren’t meant to travel through time and space.

Whatever it is, I hope the pain doesn’t last. Because I meant it, I want nothing to do with the Immortals.

I will endure almost anything if it means I never have to come face-to-face with him again.

Liar. My inner voice hisses—smug, sharp, and devastatingly right.