Page 38 of The Immortal’s One (Bound to the Immortals #1)
My fingers hover over the button to call my dad. A strange, unshakable urge to hear his voice before the ball gnaws at me.
Maybe it’s because of the sinking weight in my stomach, the one that’s grown heavier ever since Eshe and Bella left me alone in my room. Talking to my dad might calm me in a way nothing else can.
But I’ve run out of time.
The door creaks open. “Are you ready?”
I lower my phone, and my stomach does a little flip when I drink in the sight of Des standing in the doorway, looking like he stepped off the pages of a billionaire romance novel.
His midnight-black tuxedo hugs his frame in all the right places.
His dark hair is styled neatly, but the waves soften the sharp lines of his otherwise polished appearance.
From the crisp white shirt to the shining black shoes, every detail screams confidence, as if he’s both aware of and indifferent to the attention he’ll undoubtedly draw in the ballroom .
His eyes, back to their hazel color, pull me to him like a magnet.
But as enthralling as Des is, I can’t forget the questions that have been weighing on my mind, driving me to the brink of insanity while I waited for him to arrive to escort me to the ball.
Over an hour ago.
“Are you serious?” I jerk my head once, irritation replacing my admiration. Pushing off the edge of the bed, I stand tall and smooth the wrinkles out of my wide skirt.
Des’s expression is unreadable. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve been waiting for you for an hour.” I cross my arms over my chest and plant my feet in place. I refuse to be distracted by how his presence makes my heart race. “I need to talk to you.”
Without a flicker of emotion, he extends his arm, his voice cool. “We can talk on the way down to dinner. Ready?”
I don’t move. Not yet.
I hold his gaze, not backing down. “What happened the other night, Des?”
A muscle feathers in his jaw. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I glare.
“Don’t.” I grit my teeth and take a step closer. “Don’t lie to me. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
The memory of that night replays in my head for the one-thousandth time.
The shock on Des’s face…
The way his green eyes shone for a second before he bolted out of the room.
He’d panicked. He knew what I saw .
I’m sure of it.
Now, I just need him to admit it. And help me understand what the hell is going on.
Des’s eyes narrow. “Instead of leaving me to guess your meaning, perhaps it would be best to just tell me what you’re talking about?”
My nostrils flare at his superior tone.
Gladly.
“Ever since we met, you’ve avoided touching me.” I take a deep breath and demand, “ Why ?”
Back in Portland, I’d thought Des was a jerk for reaching out a hand to keep me from falling. And I found him rude and dismissive when he carried me to the mansion after Evetta’s attack. He wouldn’t even look at me.
Now, I can’t help but think it was all intentional.
Before yesterday, anytime Des touched me, skin to skin, he averted his gaze.
Always.
His expression doesn’t change, but tension crackles between us, seconds away from bursting into flames.
The silence stretches long and thick. I brace myself for more deception. For more lies.
But Des sighs, low and resigned, and says, “Fine. Yes, I’ve avoided touching you.”
My gut twists. “ Why ?”
“I’ve lived through many different human civilizations.
” His tone is flat, detached. “Until recent centuries, it was considered highly disrespectful—and often punishable—to touch a female who is not a family member. Those social norms are ingrained in me, and they… subconsciously influence my behavior. ”
I want to believe him. I really do.
But I don’t.
I think of Lome and Thane. They’ve lived just as long as Des, yet they don’t seem to have any issue touching me. Maybe it’s because they’ve found their Ones . Maybe it’s because they’ve accepted their place in this world.
No.
I won’t continue to make excuses.
If it was only the unusual sparks that peppered my skin when we touched, I might’ve been able to convince myself it didn’t mean anything. But the shocks aren’t what kept me up most of the night.
“Your eyes.” My gaze flits between his hazel irises, failing to see the green hue that haunts my dreams. I don’t let that dissuade me. I know what I saw. “After you touched me… they turned green.”
A flicker of panic crosses his features, but he is quick to mask it.
Before I can say anything more, he steps forward. The wind blowing in from the balcony picks up. A whooshing noise fills the room. The bedroom door and the patio doors slam shut at the same moment.
I jolt. My pulse spikes.
“Don’t.” His voice deepens in a low warning, taking another step. “Don’t say such things out loud.”
I back up, my legs hit the bed. My heart races in my chest, but I refuse to back down. “Why not?” I ask. “What does it mean?”
His chest rises and falls with each ragged intake of air. But his eyes remain hard, distant. “I can’t say. We cannot discuss such things. Not here. Not now. ”
A wave of foreboding washes over me. “If not now, then when?”
I feel like I’m running out of time. Everything I thought I knew about my situation starts to come undone. Des is the only one who can give me answers— the answers I need to make sense of it all.
But he won’t. Not yet. He’s drawing a line in the sand. He’s trying to pull back.
I won’t let him.
If I can’t ask about his eyes, there’s another question burning on my tongue, desperate to be spoken.
Disbelief, fear, and confusion swirl as I choke out the heart-stuttering words, “Am I her?”
His gaze sharpens, but his voice remains calm—too calm. “What do you mean?”
Frustration bubbles up inside me, overshadowing my other emotions. For now. “Don’t play dumb, Des. You know exactly what I mean.”
“I don’t think you’re dumb.” His eyes sweep over me for the first time. His gaze trails down my gown and back up. “You look nice.”
“Don’t change the subject.” My voice cracks. I hate how vulnerable I sound, but I can’t stop now.
Des blinks slowly, then runs a hand through his hair, averting his eyes. “You are not my One , Darcie.”
The vice-like grip around my lungs releases. At the same time, my heart constricts.
I ignore both sensations. “Do you promise?”
A shadow falls over his features. “I promise we are not meant to be together.”
A strange, hollow feeling settles in my stomach .
Des clears his throat and takes a step back. “Now, let’s join the celebrations. We have a plan to execute.”
I should deny his request. I should insist that he and I continue our conversation until I’m satisfied with his explanations.
As it is, my confusion has only grown.
If I’m not his One , why do I react to his touch so viscerally? And why have his eyes starred in my dreams for years?
I want answers. Badly.
But Des’s shuttered expression and the boisterous music billowing up from the ballroom below remind me of my commitments.
I’ve been waiting for the chance to do something, anything, to help me return to Maine. As much as the need for answers gnaws at me, it can wait until after the ball. Until after Adir and I do what needs to be done.
I press my lips together and move forward to loop my arm through Des’s, resolved to keep my composure, bracing myself for the night ahead.
The stoic Immortal offers a forced smile, turning his hand so that his palm is face down, making a point not to let his fingers brush against the skin under my sheer sleeves.
A quiet snort echoes in my mind.
How convenient.
We walk to the grand staircase in silence. Music grows louder with each step I take, as does the laughter and conversation of the hundreds of Immortals gathered below, waiting for us to arrive so dinner can begin.
My fingers flex against his forearm.
Des pauses at the top of the stairs. From the corner of my eye, I see him turn towards me. I keep my eyes forward .
“Are you ready?” He repeats the question he’d asked when he arrived to escort me to dinner.
To face a room full of lesser Immortals who believe I’m your soulmate, some of whom want to kill me?
Hell no.
“Of course.” I roll my shoulders back and take a steadying breath to hide my terror. “Let’s do this.”