Page 40 of The Immortal’s One (Bound to the Immortals #1)

Awareness burns through me the moment I reach for Des’s hand. Music continues to play, but the volume in the room dips as conversations stop and Immortals turn their piercing eyes to us.

My hands shake. But my unease takes a back seat when my fingers brush Des’s palm and familiar electric sparks scatter up my arm.

Breath catches in my throat, my gaze darts between Des’s stunning eyes. His green eyes.

I knew it.

I exhale a shuddered breath and try to gather my thoughts as Des leads me to the dancefloor. The sea of Immortals in our path part, but I don’t spare them a glance. I can’t look away from Des.

Back in my room, he’d acted as if mentioning his eyes changing color was a capital offense. His action implied it was a secret no one should know about.

But now? He’s holding my hand for all to see.

I finally tear my gaze away and look around us, locking eyes with the Immortals watching our movements before they lower their heads.

Have they noticed that his eyes have changed color?

It doesn’t seem like it.

The urge to ask Des to explain what’s happening gnaws at me, but there are too many people. My gut says drawing attention to his eyes is the last thing I should do.

The orchestra is mid-song, but the dancers slow and eventually come to a halt, their gazes fixed on us as we step onto the edge of the dance floor.

This was a mistake.

I think I’m going to be sick.

I shouldn’t have agreed to dance with Des. I was trying to avoid causing a scene, but I only created an even bigger one.

Please, like you didn’t enjoy making Liana jealous.

I press my lips together.

I mean, yeah. Part of me enjoyed seeing the dismissive beauty’s cheeks burn with envy when Des asked me to dance.

But now? Now, I regret not figuring out a way to decline. I’ve felt like I’ve been under a microscope all evening, but this… this feels infinitely worse.

“It’s all right.” Des squeezes my fingers. Another bolt of electricity travels up my arm. “Pretend I’m the only one here.”

As if that’s any less unnerving.

I drag my eyes off the trio of Immortal women huddled in the corner, their maroon and cream fans fluttering as they gossip in low voices, and meet his reassuring gaze.

I inhale through my nostrils and dip my head once.

The song ends, and without missing a beat, another begins—a slow, somber melody replacing the earlier upbeat tune .

I wonder if the switch was intentional as Des draws me closer, my chest brushing his.

My brain short-circuits.

His scent wraps around me—warm spice and woodsmoke, familiar yet utterly intoxicating.

It’s the kind of fragrance you might find bottled in colognes or cheap deodorants, easily overlooked on anyone else.

But on him? It clings like a second skin, subtle and magnetic, and it makes my pulse trip over itself.

Des’s arms, strong and confident, hold me close, anchoring me amidst the turbulent storm brewing all around us. One hand grips mine, while the other rests on my waist.

I press my fingers into his shoulder as we move in time with the music, but my attention drifts to the pulse at the base of his throat. My thoughts scatter, each one slipping through my fingers like sand.

Des is just a handsome guy. There’s no reason I should be this affected.

But then his eyes, those green eyes, pierce through me.

They mean something. I know they do. But I am so close to going home. As curious as I am to understand why Des’s eyes resemble those that have haunted my dreams for most of my life, I can’t demand an answer here.

It could ruin everything.

The hand on my waist shifts, and in one fluid motion, Des pushes me into a spin before reeling me back in. Without breaking rhythm, he picks up the tempo and effortlessly leads me across the floor.

I raise an eyebrow.

The corner of his lip twitches. “What?”

“You’re pretty graceful. ”

He chuckles, low and warm. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

“I didn’t know what to think.” The words slip out sharper than I intend, but I quickly add, “You don’t really look like the dancing type,” hoping to soften the sting.

“Don’t I?” Des replies with a smirk, executing another smooth move that leaves me laughing when he unexpectedly dips me. He pulls me back up, and his eyes are alight, a glint of amusement dancing in them. “How about now?” He smiles widely.

The breath rushes out of my lungs.

Who is this guy, and what has he done with Des?

Try as I might, I can’t look away. His smile is so damn disarming.

He moves me through the next steps without missing a beat, seemingly unaware of the effect his charm has on me.

“Okay. You win.” I chuckle awkwardly. “Clearly, you’re a skilled dancer.”

“Thank you.” We spin twice more with the other couples, the movement graceful as we glide across the floor. “But I have to give credit to Bella. She’s the one who insisted we all learn modern dances. It’s a passion of hers.”

My eyes slide back to him. “Really?”

He nods, his attention flicking over the other dancers. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but my brother’s wife runs the show around here.”

Except for the part where she and Eshe aren’t invited to meetings with the Original Nine.

I force a polite smile. “How’s your night going?”

“Fine.” His lips twitch. “Better now.”

My heartbeat stutters.

What is going on here ?

I need to change the subject. And fast. Otherwise, I might do something stupid. Like let myself get lost in the intrigue that’s slowly starting to overcome my resolve not to feel anything for the Immortal in front of me.

“What about the rebellion? Have there been any threats tonight?” I expect him to say no, but my stomach drops when his expression darkens. “Des?” I choke out his name.

“Yes?”

I wait for him to answer my question.

When he doesn’t, I sigh. Frustration threads through my tone. “Would you please just be honest with me?”

His lips flatten, and his easygoing demeanor only moments before evaporates.

Good.

I know how to deal with a surly Immortal. A charming one? That’s too complicated.

For a long moment, he simply stares at me. Thoughts swirl behind those beautiful green eyes as he weighs something in his mind.

The music fades. We slow. I expect Des to release my hand and run off to avoid my question. Instead, he leads me into another dance, his movements smooth and sure as the next song begins.

“Thane, Lome, and I were thorough when setting up this evening’s security,” he breaks the silence between us, his voice low and steady. “And while no one has attempted to breach those measures, our spies have informed us of three viable threats tonight.”

“Three?” My voice cracks.

Des nods, his expression unreadable.

Shit.

Maybe I don’t want him to be that honest .

Anxiety spikes. I glance over my shoulder, scanning the room for any sign of trouble, though the elegant ballroom around us offers no clues.

Des’s grip on my hand tightens. “Don’t worry. You’re safe. Soon, our plan will be put into action, and you’ll be one step closer to returning home.”

Home.

Right.

Take a breath, Darcie.

I heed my inner voice, inhaling through my nostrils. My head clears a bit, but when I exhale, my breath still comes out shaky.

Who could blame me?

I’m vulnerable. I’m a mortal in a crowd of Immortals, surrounded by beings with power beyond my understanding. The brothers might have set up all the security in the world, but even with their protection, I can’t escape the nagging fear that something is slipping through the cracks.

My head spins, and the constant turning in the dance isn’t helping. Dizziness rises in me.

Without thinking, I move closer to Des, pressing my forehead gently against his chest, just below his chin. I don’t know why I do it; I just need something to ground me.

He sucks in a breath, and for a split second, I worry I’ve overstepped. But then, to my surprise, the tension in his shoulders dissipates. His heart beats slow and strong beneath my head.

Des is aloof. He’s serious, not one to let down his guard. But right now, with his steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body, something about him is unexpectedly comforting. A strange calmness settles over me. I feel safe. Protected.

I shut my eyes, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest, trusting him to guide me through the dance and not let me trip.

I don’t want to face the eyes on us—the judgment, the whispers.

The room is watching, but at this moment, I tell myself they don’t matter.

It’s just the two of us. Just until I get control of my fear.

A gentle touch brushes against my lower back. Des’s fingers trail over the fabric of my gown, heat warming my skin through the delicate material.

My eyes snap open, and I pull back slightly. Like a moth drawn to a flame, my gaze meets his. The look in his eyes shakes me to my core.

I… I don’t understand this man.

When we first met, he wanted nothing to do with me. Then, he became my reluctant ally. But now, there’s something else simmering beneath the surface of his stoic facade, something he’s not saying.

His thumb caresses the back of my hand as he guides me into another half turn.

“You know…” His voice trails off; uncertainty clouds his features.

My stomach tightens, my heart pounding in anticipation. “What?”

“I…” He stops, his lips pressing together in frustration. He jerks his head once. “You look beautiful.”

The words are soft, almost reluctant. I bite back a smile, the compliment wrapping around me like a warm blanket on a snowy Maine day. “Thank you.”

But then he adds something that makes my heart drop. “You really do look like her.”

The comment hits me like a slap, cold and unexpected.

Her .

That single word echoes in my mind, bouncing around, wreaking havoc like a bullet ricocheting against my skull.

A sharp chill settles deep within my core.

Des’s eyes remain fixed on me, but I know now that he’s not really seeing me. He’s seeing someone else, someone from his past. And that thought cuts deeper than I want to admit.