Page 46 of The Immortal’s One (Bound to the Immortals #1)

The ire wafting off Adir’s rigid shoulders seeps into the room's air. It is stifling, ominous, yet… encouraging.

Anything that pisses off the Original makes me happy.

I sit in an oversized chair in the middle of the dim study, shrinking back into the plush cushions to avoid catching the Immortal’s attention.

Adir paces the length of the room, a cell phone pressed against his ear. His voice is too low for me to hear what he says, but his tone is sharp and his features twist with anger.

Whatever he’s talking about isn’t good news for him, but I hope that means it’s good news for me.

It’s been twenty minutes since Adir showed up at the oppressive bedroom and led me to this study. I didn’t know what to expect—what grand scheme he’d lay out before me that would involve me betraying the Immortals who’ve been protecting me from the rebellion.

But almost the moment my foot hit the thick, hand-knotted rug at the entrance, Adir’s phone rang. He’s been on it ever since .

My eyes track his aggravated form across the room. It’s weird seeing an Immortal on a cell phone. I imagined they communicated with each other telepathically. Or used carrier pigeons. I don’t know, something more magical .

But then my mind stills. Who says he’s talking to an Immortal?

My eyes drift away from my irritated captor to scan the two closed doors to my right. Where they lead is a mystery, but I don’t suspect it’s freedom. Adir doesn’t strike me as careless. I doubt he’d take me anywhere I’d be able to escape.

Throwing myself out of one of the three windows overlooking the dead grass field below is an option. The drop would hurt. And the chances of me being able to outrun an Original Immortal who can transport places at will are less than zero.

Right now, I’m stuck.

And all my focus needs to be on avoiding Adir’s fury billowing into the air like a storm cloud, ready to unleash a torrential downpour on anyone who dares irritate him further.

I'm not going to lie; there’s something terrifying about seeing the God of War angry.

Des and the others aren’t much better…

I pinch my lips together and tug the hem of my borrowed shirt.

The clothes in my new prison are modern.

Jeans, leggings, and tops that are designed to show midriff.

The top isn’t my style, but I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable wearing it if it weren’t for the way Adir’s gaze lingered on the inch of exposed flesh above my waist. My skin still crawls just thinking about it.

I tuck my legs to my body, relieved that the jeans are flexible enough to let me cover my midsection. I wrap my arms around my knees and watch the Original Immortal, wondering for the one hundredth time what the hell he has planned for me. And if Des and the others are trying to find me.

“Just take care of it,” Adir barks, eyes narrowing at the phone, “before I remove you and take matters into my own hands!”

The Immortal ends the call and vaults the device into the ground.

I jolt. Plastic and glass shatter, the sound echoing against the stone walls.

Adir stomps in my direction. I stiffen but exhale a stilted sigh of relief when he falls into the chair across from mine.

He runs a tan hand through his blond hair, mutters a curse, then shouts, “Eric!”

One of the doors to my right swings open, and a harried young man steps into the study—the same man who brought food to my room.

I strain my neck to see the room or hall behind him, but he shuts the door before I can make out any details.

“Yes, my lord?” the man, Eric, answers with his head tilted down.

“I need you to contact your kin. The rebellion is underway, and we’ll need your services.”

“Yes, sir.” Eric spares a quick glance in my direction before turning on his heel and rushing out. Once again, he closes the door before I can see what lies behind it.

Adir sighs. I turn and find him staring at me, his expression contemplative.

I tighten my hold on my legs. “Who was that?”

“Who? Eric?” Adir cracks his knuckles, shaking out the hand that had been gripping the phone. “A lesser deity who acts as my messenger. Nothing more. ”

I jump at the opportunity to learn more about what’s going on. “He’s a messenger between you and his family?”

“Not family in the way you use the word,” he says, sounding bored.

At least he’s not angry anymore.

An angry captor is a dangerous captor.

“Then what did ‘kin’ mean?” I hold my breath, waiting to see if he will be willing to share more information.

He doesn’t disappoint.

“Eric and deities like him thrive on conspiracy and intrigue. His kind aligned with the rebellion without much coaxing.”

You know… I’d really like to meet an Immortal who thrived off the good aspects of humanity.

I swallow down the sentiment. “Isn’t the rebellion worried deities like him will turn on you?” I dare to inquire.

“No.” He cocks his head to the side. “Why do you ask?”

“I-I don’t know.” I lift a shoulder, feigning nonchalance. “Anyone who thrives on traitorous behavior doesn’t seem like someone I’d trust.”

“Hm. That’s a fair point.” He leans back and lifts a leg, resting his ankle over his knee. “But don’t worry. No one would dare cross me.” A promise of retribution underlies the words.

I dig my fingers into my jeans to hide how they tremble.

“What do you think of my home?” Adir changes the subject, motioning to the study around us.

I glance at the stone-walled room decorated with ornate tapestries, reminiscent of the frescos covering the ceilings in Thane’s mansion.

“It’s nice.” My voice lacks inflection .

“Come now, Darcie. Lighten up.” His eyes trail over me. “You’re so tense. Relax. I will not harm you.”

Yet.

“I’m cold.” I demonstrate the fact by letting a shiver run through my body.

“Well, we can’t have that.” He stands and reaches for the thick green blanket lying over the back of his chair.

My muscles lock in place. Adir stands and steps towards me, holding out the green blanket with an unsettling smile. I reach out to take the blanket to keep him from drawing too close, but he ignores my hand and drapes the blanket over me himself.

As the material falls over my legs, I lower my chin, unable to hold his uncomfortable gaze.

Adir’s fingers brush against my arms as he tucks the blanket against me. Then, he walks back and sits down in his seat.

“Better?” he asks.

My heart races. I lift my eyes. Adir watches me expectantly, wearing an expression meant to appear concerned and caring.

His attempts to act friendly annoy me.

I can’t take it anymore.

“Why am I here?” I ask.

His lips twitch. “I’ve already told you. You’re going to help me overthrow the brothers.”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand how. You said you believe I’m not Des’s One .”

“Yes. However, Thane and Lome are convinced otherwise.”

My forehead furrows. “So? ”

“So, they will do anything to ensure your safety, including accepting that their role as enforcers for the Council is over.”

I blink slowly.

Is he serious?

I’m not important enough to the brothers to make such a monumental decision.

No one has outright said it, but Des, Thane, and Lome are the key to keeping other Immortals in check. I saw how the powerful beings at the ball bowed to them. The lesser Immortals view them as their leaders.

The human race depends on Des, Lome, and Thane holding other Immortals accountable—keeping them from manipulating us for their selfish gain.

They wouldn’t abandon such an important role to save me.

How could Adir believe otherwise?

“Once the Immortal Three agree to stop persecuting us for interacting with mortals,” he continues with a manic gleam in his blue eyes, “members of the rebellion will make our move. With any luck, at least one brother will be removed from the world, making subsequent victories easier for us to obtain.”

“Removed?” Understanding dawns.“You’re… planning to kill them?” I whisper in horror.

“With fortune on our side, yes.”

My blood runs cold. “How is that even possible? You’re all Immortal. By definition, you can’t die.”

Please tell me the brothers can’t die.

“We don’t die from old age or illness, but we are susceptible to the power of other Immortals. How else do you think the brothers successfully control us? The threat of oblivion is a powerful motivation to conform.”

I can’t believe this.

For the one hundredth time since waking up after the attack at Robertson’s, I wonder how in the world I ended up involved in this ancient feud. And what else Thane and the others chose to keep from me.

Bella once alluded to the fact she could die, but she made the brothers seem invincible.

A hollow feeling sits in my stomach as I finally understand what Adir hopes to get from me. He’s using me as collateral. Blackmail.

He plans to use me to weaken and kill one of the brothers. As upset as I am that they hid the truth from me, I can’t bear the thought of being the reason any of them are hurt.

“What if you’re wrong?” I will my voice not to shake, hoping that if I sound confident, Adir will second-guess his plan. “What if Thane and Lome don’t care? What if Des finally convinces them I’m not his One ?”

“Let’s just hope they do,” he replies coolly. “For your sake.”

I gulp.

“Are you thirsty?” Adir rises casually to his feet. “How about a glass of wine?”

“No, thank you.”

His features darken. “Whyever not?”

Because I have no interest in drinking alcohol in the presence of a manipulative villain.

“ I’m not twenty-one,” I reply on instinct.

“Dear Darcie, that doesn’t matter.” Adir brightens, grinning. It’s meant to be charming, but the effort falls flat. “You’re in Europe. Besides, a little birdie told me your birthday is not far off.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, pushing down the nausea crawling up my throat. I don’t like that he knows my birthday. I don’t like him knowing anything about me .

And I really don’t like the way his eyes, once again, trail over me. Or the intrigued gleam in his gaze.