Page 1 of The Immortal’s One (Bound to the Immortals #1)

Being kidnapped by immortals was so not part of my winter plans. But honestly? I should have seen it coming… especially when my recurring daydreams started to feel more and more like a haunting.

Piercing green eyes peer at me through a cloud of white smoke. The man's features, shrouded in the distorting haze, make the edges of my mind tingle.

I recognize him… but from where?

That's the part I can never figure out.

“I should’ve begged my parents to let me move to Greece with you when I had the chance.” Kayla’s voice rips me out of the haunting daydream, and the mysterious name drifts out of reach once more.

I shake away the remnants of the eerie vision. Versions of the same trance have plagued me for as long as I can remember, but they’ve increased in frequency ever since my eighteenth birthday two years ago.

Abandoning the college admissions essay I’d been trying and failing to work on, I rotate in my computer chair. “What are you talking about?”

“I never should have enrolled at St. Phillip’s.

” My childhood best friend flings herself back onto my queen-sized bed, sending half of my decorative pillows falling to the floor.

Her economics textbook and spiral of notes are shoved to the edge of the mattress.

“I’m not cut out for college. I should have moved to Greece with you and spent the year soaking in the Mediterranean sun. ”

“Excuse me.” I huff a laugh at the lazy picture she paints of my life. “I did a lot more than enjoy the Mediterranean sun.”

Though, I wish I’d done more.

“I know, I know.” With her brown hair fanned out like soft sunrays against my comforter, Kayla waves a placating hand in the air.

“You took college courses and helped your dad with his research.

That's still more fun than being trapped in a dorm room, freezing your ass off during another Maine winter.”

“I don’t know.” I look out the window and take in the gray clouds covering the December sky in a dreary haze. “I kind of missed the snow.”

Dad and I moved around a lot before settling in Brunswick. The cozy New England town is the closest place I have to a childhood home. I was sad to leave it behind when Dad’s sabbatical took him to Greece.

“You’re crazy, Darcie. Sitting on white sandy beaches, staring at the crystal-blue water while you ‘studied.’ You probably met so many hunky guys.” Kayla sits up and sighs, staring into the distance with her hands over her heart. “You have the best life.”

So dramatic.

My lips quirk into an amused smile. “You should switch your major to theatre. I think you missed your calling as an actress.”

Kayla leans against my headboard with a pout. “I wish. You know my parents would never support that sort of career.”

I wince. “Sorry.”

I’d forgotten the fight Kayla had with her parents when she was applying to colleges. She wanted to study liberal arts, but her parents insisted on something more ‘practical’. Like business.

“It’s fine.” She waves me off again and starts scrolling through her phone. More than likely, she’s browsing social media for the latest viral dance trend or sexy hockey player thirst trap—anything to distract from the disappointment that still stings, even after two years.

I look back at my computer screen, but my thoughts aren’t on the essay.

Memories from my last year in Greece play through my head, most of them far from luxurious.

As a historian, Dad spent most of his days in library archives and museum storerooms. Since my college courses weren't time-consuming, I kept him company more often than not.

But I didn’t have to move to Greece.

I could have stayed back and started my college career with the rest of my high school classmates, but something deep in my soul—a nagging feeling—compelled me to postpone my post-secondary studies and join Dad across the Atlantic.

Now, two years later, I’m beginning to regret my decision.

The courses I completed should transfer to a four-year university, but when added up, they barely classify me as a sophomore. I’m a whole year behind my former classmates. And as a former high-achieving student, that kills me.

“Are you hungry?” Kayla hops off my bed, her earlier forlorn demeanor gone. “I could go for something to eat before I go to work.”

“I think there’s leftover Chinese in the fridge.”

“Sold!” The floorboards creak as Kayla bounces out of my bedroom and down the hall, heading to the stairs that lead to the kitchen below.

I stand and stretch my arms above my head, stiff from sitting in one position for the past hour. Through the window behind my desk, the darkening sky threatens snow. I planned on going for a run, but I might hold off.

By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, Kayla has already laid out the takeout containers from the fridge on the island. Growing up, we spent every free moment at each other’s houses. She's at home here just like I am in hers.

I open the silverware drawer stuffed with plastic and metal utensils and find two unopened chopsticks.

“Oh, authentic!” Kayla opens the chopsticks and taps them together. “I love it.”

I laugh and grab two plates from the cabinet above the dishwasher. Kayla divvies the chicken lo mein, fried rice, and spring rolls while I pour two cups of water. Then, we dive into the meal.

Between bites of food from my favorite Chinese restaurant in town—really, the only Chinese restaurant in town— Kayla and I chat.

I’ve been back in Maine for two weeks, but we’re still catching up on each other’s lives from the last two years apart.

We kept in contact while I was gone, but it’s fun hearing about her college experiences in person.

She finishes telling me about the blacklight party she went to at the end of last semester when a question I’ve been trying to suppress rolls off my tongue. “So… how’s your family?”

Her brown eyes glint with mischief. “Don’t you mean, how is Kevin?”

“Your family includes Kevin.” It’s a weak attempt to distract from the teasing about to come my way. I duck my head to hide my blush and brace myself.

But I’m wrong.

Maybe it’s because things between Kayla and me still aren’t quite back to how they were before I left for Greece. Or maybe it’s because my best friend has grown up and decided those jokes are beneath her now.

Whatever the reason, Kayla chooses to have mercy on me and not torture me about my feelings for her older brother.

“My family is fine. Dad works a lot, and Mom has become the epitome of a bored housewife ever since I moved into the dorm last year. It’s like she doesn’t know what to do with herself now that she doesn’t have anyone to nag.”

My shoulders tense.

Kayla doesn’t notice.

She didn’t mean any harm by the comment, but hearing her speak so negatively about having a mom who cares still stings. I’d give anything to have that kind of relationship.

“And Kevin is good, last I heard.” Kayla pinches a noodle between her chopsticks and lifts it to her lips. “Mom and Dad can’t wait to have him back for winter break. ”

“When does he come back?” I avert my gaze and pluck the peas from the fried rice, aiming to sound indifferent.

Kayla’s snort tells me I failed. “Kevin drives in this weekend. We already have plans to see the latest Chris Pratt movie. You should join us.”

I swallow hard, taking another bite. “No thanks. I’ll let you two catch up alone.”

“Don’t be silly.” She rolls her eyes. “Kevin would want to see you.”

My stomach flutters at the idea, but I refuse to entertain it. “Still, I’ll sit this one out.”

Kayla pops a piece of chicken in her mouth and studies me as she chews. Finally, she swallows and shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

I steer the conversation in a different direction before she can press the issue. “Have you checked out the new coffee shop near the public library?”

“Not yet, but the white-washed building with vibrant blue furniture nails the Santorini vibe the owner was going for. At least from pictures.”

Santorini is one of the many Grecian destinations I never made it to. Dad’s work didn’t take us there. “I’ll check it out sometime this week and report back.”

“Perfect. Speaking of plans…” Kayla sets down her chopsticks, her expression a mix of wariness and excitement as she turns to face me. “Josh and I are thinking of checking out a new club in Portland on Saturday.”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “No. Not a chance.”

“Come on, Darcie.” Kayla folds her hands together, fingers interlaced, eyes pleading. “Please come. It’ll be so much fun. And if you’re there, I won’t be stuck talking only to Josh all night. ”

I snort. “Aren’t you supposed to like talking to your boyfriend?”

“I do, but Josh can be a stick in the mud sometimes.” Kayla winces at the unflattering description of her boyfriend, then drops her hands into her lap, eyes still pleading. “You’re my best friend, Darcie. We’d have so much fun together.”

I’m not so sure.

“How do you even plan to get into a club?” I cross my arms. “We aren’t twenty-one.”

“You’re almost twenty-one.”

“Not for a month.”

A Cheshire grin pulls Kayla’s lips. “Well, then it’s lucky that I have…” She hops up from her seat and rushes to the entryway where she left her overstuffed purse.

I bite into a crispy spring roll, savoring the rich flavor as the sound of her rummaging through the bag echoes into the kitchen. Moments later, she rushes back in, holding something up and exclaiming, “These!”

Kayla shoves two laminated cards in my face. I take them, flipping them over to reveal our faces beside names that aren’t ours.

My jaw drops. “What are you doing with these?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Darcie,” she laughs, swiping the cards from my hands. “Everyone at St. Phillip’s uses fake IDs. It’s no big deal.”

Except it is.

“Your parents will kill you if they find out you have a fake ID to drink booze.”

“I’m not going to use it to drink.” Her lips press into a hard line. “They’re just to get us into clubs for the next few months. Once we’re both twenty-one, I’ll destroy them. Seriously, Darcie, everyone I know has one. ”

I rub my eyes, taking a deep breath.

I love Kayla—I really do. She was my champion when we were kids. She stood up to the trio of mean girls who tried to humiliate me on my first day of school for wearing a cardigan stained with tomato sauce, and she threw a dodgeball at Chris Walter’s junk during P.E. after he made fun of my braces.

Kayla’s been there for me through thick and thin, and I trust her. But sometimes, she can be a little too impulsive.

I’ve acted as the voice of reason, saving us from trouble more times than I can count. I attempt to do it one more time. “Have you thought about what will happen if a bouncer realizes we have fake IDs?”

She shrugs. “They would just confiscate them.”

“That’s if they are being nice. Most clubs have security, and they could detain us while they call the cops.”

“Darcie.” Kayla’s expression shifts to something more serious. “Come on. It’s not that big of a deal. You need to let loose. We’re supposed to have fun in our twenties. And you, like… never have fun. Ever.”

That’s not true.

“And before you tell me that’s not true,” Kayla continues as if reading my mind, “need I remind you that you just told me you didn’t spend your time in Greece enjoying the beautiful weather and gorgeous sea?

You, my friend, need to stop acting like a middle-aged professor and live a little. You’re not your dad.”

The dig stings, but I can’t drum up any anger. Kayla is right.

I stare at my longest friend and release a heavy sigh.

Going to a club isn’t my idea of a good time. Throw in the fact that I’ll be breaking the law, and I’m even less inclined to go. But Kayla’s comments ring in my head .

For as long as I can remember, I’ve played it safe. I never wanted to add stress to my dad’s plate. I’ve missed out on so many experiences.

Like going to Greece when I could’ve stayed in the States to start college…

On paper, a trip to Greece should’ve been an unforgettable experience, one I didn’t want to miss out on. But spending my days buried in dusty libraries or overheated lecture halls hardly matches the vibrant Grecian adventure others might have imagined.

The realization is all the motivation I need to overcome my instinct and say, “Fine. I’ll go.”

Kayla squeals, almost falling back on the stool as she whips her hands up to clap. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

She wiggles in her seat before sliding off the stool. “Perfect! Let’s go to my parents’ house to pick out your outfit. I know you don’t have anything club-worthy in your closet.”

I want to object, but the truth is cozy sweaters and leggings don’t qualify as going-out clothes, even though they totally should.

“Don’t you have to work?” I ask even as I start to gather our dishes to move them to the sink.

“Not for a couple of hours,” she chimes. “We have plenty of time. Come on!”

Kayla hurries towards the front door and tugs on her fuzzy winter boots and puffy jacket. Knowing her, there’s no point in arguing. I follow her to the door, grab my jacket, and slip on my worn sneakers.

As we make the short walk to her childhood home, Kayla raves about everything she’s heard about Portland’s newest club, swearing up and down that we will have the time of our lives.

I nod along, offering noncommittal hums as I focus more on avoiding hidden patches of ice on the recently cleared sidewalk than listening to her try to sell me on the club.

“Portland is the spot for people our age to party. There are going to be so many hot guys there.” Kayla fans her face and winks. “I bet you’ll be dancing all night.”

I swear I have the most overactive imagination. Because as Kayla goes on and on about our impending night out, the stunning green irises that haunt my mind flash with unexpected anger just before they narrow in stern disapproval.