Page 9 of The Immortal’s One (Bound to the Immortals #1)

“Ow!”

I jerk back. Pain explodes through my head and then radiates down to my ribs. I start to stumble away, but something— someone grabs my arm. Strong hands, warm and firm, steady me.

“Darcie?” Thane’s voice is low, tight with concern.

I lift my head, meeting his worried gaze. I press my lips together, a knot of discomfort tightening my chest from seeing him again. Especially under these circumstances.

“You shouldn’t be up,” he says, voice soft, yet there’s an undeniable edge to it. “The healers haven’t seen to your injuries yet.”

His words settle over me, but they only make the tightness grow. Before I can even take a breath, his arms move around me, and I’m lifted effortlessly and carried inside the room.

A sharp exhale leaves me as I take in the space.

One wall is lined with a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf crammed with thick leatherbound books.

Each one gleams, gold lettering catching the light.

Stunning and vibrant oil paintings hang between towering windows stretching high above me, framing a view of the lush lawn below.

My mind darts back to years spent traveling with my dad, who was studying ancient cultures.

I scan the room, noting the priceless artifacts displayed like treasures on pedestals.

My gaze lingers on them, searching for meaning, but all I can feel is the gnawing, insistent question: Where the hell am I?

Thane lowers me into a chair opposite one that’s already occupied. I wince as I settle. My ribs ache at every movement. The stranger across from me watches, his warm hazel eyes sharp and unwavering. They remind me of Thane’s, though they are slightly different shades.

I snatch the pillow next to me and clutch it to my chest, my fingers digging into the soft fabric, searching for some feeble way to put distance between me and them.

The man whistles low, disbelief thick in his tone. “I… I can’t believe it.”

“Don’t,” comes Des’s voice, cutting through the air with sharp irritation. “She is not her.”

I freeze . That phrase. I’ve heard it before… back at the club. My stomach churns, unease coiling tighter.

Before I can react, the man across from me raises a brow, slow and amused. “No? You could’ve fooled me.”

The confusion inside me deepens, filling my mind with something that feels too much like panic. I shift my gaze, desperate for something to steady me. My eyes land on the two women seated on the sofa.

One is fair-skinned with wavy brown hair, her lips curved in a smile that borders on wistful, almost sad. The other, with rich tan skin, exudes an aura of sharpness. Her hair falls like dark curtains, framing a face that is striking but cold. She looks like she’d rather be anywhere else .

Both women remain silent, their eyes flicking between me and the men, but they don’t say a word.

I swallow thickly, my throat dry as I turn back to Thane.

“Where am I?” The words spill out, brittle and shaky. I glance at Des, who stands near the bookshelf. His glare burns into me, contradicting the chill that settles over my skin. “What’s going on?”

“You’re in our home,” Thane responds steadily.

Yes, but where exactly?

My chest tightens as I lift my chin. “And why am I in your home?”

You rescued me from that parking lot, didn’t you?

Why did you bring me here and not just call the police?

I bite my lip to hold in the panicked questions. My gut screams to demand answers, but something holds me back. I can't afford to freak out. Not yet.

“You’re here to recover.” Thane’s tone softens, but his jaw tightens. “We’ve summoned a healer. Once they arrive, they’ll tend to your injuries.”

His words are a sharp reminder of the pain I’ve been pushing down. A vice-like grip wraps around my ribs, squeezing with every word I say. “I’d rather recover in a hospital. If you could take me back to Maine, I’d appreciate it.”

The man in the chair laughs. “Ah, she’s a feisty one. I like her already.”

“Of course you do, dear,” the woman with ebony hair says with a sigh. “You never shy away from admiring women.”

The man scowls, but Thane interrupts before he can speak.

“Taking you to the hospital would raise too many questions,” he says. “And recovery would be slower there. Our healers will get you back on your feet faster. ”

“Don’t you mean doctors?” I ask, furrowing my brow.

Please, tell me he means doctors.

I’m open to alternative medicine, but I don’t think acupuncture is going to help a cracked rib.

“No.” Thane frowns. “Healers. They are?—”

“Enough.” Des’s voice slices through the air like a blade. My eyes snap up, and his gaze is heavy as he looks at me before facing his brother.

He moves, his form framed by the sunlight pouring through the tall window behind him. It makes him appear almost otherworldly, ethereal—like some god, too perfect to touch. He’s stunning.

Ugh, Darcie!

He helped kidnap you. Stop checking him out!

“There’s no point in continuing this discussion,” Des declares. “I’ve already told you—she is not The One . Keeping her here, explaining anything to her, would be a mistake. Once she’s healed, we should take her back to her home.”

“I’d like to go home!” I chime in, my voice rising in desperation. I look between Thane and Des, unable to tell who’s in charge here. “As soon as possible, please.”

Thane’s lips press into a thin line. “I’m afraid that’s not a good idea.”

Des growls.

My pulse quickens. Thane’s words hang over my head like a threat.

My voice is barely above a whisper. “Am I your prisoner?”

Thane recoils. “Of course not. How could you think such a thing?”

“Maybe because she’s here against her will,” the ebony- haired woman mutters, sarcasm dripping from every word. “What else is she supposed to think about this situation?”

The man in the chair speaks again. “Let’s not be hasty, Des. How can you be sure she’s not her?”

“Do you think I wouldn’t know?” Des snarls, his eyes narrowing. Something in the air shifts, and I swear the bookshelf behind him shakes.

I blink rapidly, trying to clear the fog in my mind.

No, nothing trembles. Not the books, not the air. Nothing but the storm brewing in Des’s gaze.

He steps forward, glaring at the man across from me. “I, of all people, would recognize her.”

Another memory hits me—like a jolt, a crack in my mind. The conversation I overheard, just outside the club bathroom. Des and Thane had argued about the exact same thing right before Des addressed me by my full name.

Unease twists in my gut. I don’t understand what “ The One ” means or why they think it relates to me. I’m missing pieces to this puzzle, but I don’t expect I will get them. Not if Des has anything to say about it.

“But you haven’t been searching for her,” the man in the chair points out, speaking to Des. “Perhaps your lack of enthusiasm has dulled the connection. You might recognize her if you spend more time in her presence.”

Thane nods his agreement. “I feel a connection to her.”

“As do I,” the seated man says.

The women on the sofa remain silent.

“You’re both being unreasonable.” Des’s patience snaps. His body is taut, his frustration barely contained.

“That is not our intention,” Thane counters. “You seem to forget this affects us all. ”

“That doesn’t change the fact she is not her !” Des roars, his words like a violent wave crashing through the room.

Pictures on the wall rattle. A wave of pain pulses behind my left eye, sharp and insistent.

Des’s anger is tangible, thickening the air around us like a storm ready to break.

I close my eyes, pressing my fingers to my temple, trying to push back the ache that intensifies with every tense word exchanged.

“Darcie?” Thane asks, his expression twisting in concern. “What’s wrong?”

I release a quiet scoff and drop my hand. I open my eyes, meeting his gaze, but the words that spill from my mouth are thick with sarcasm. “What’s wrong?” The words are bitter on my tongue. “Let’s see… I was attacked. Beaten. I thought I was going to die in the back of some creep’s van.”

I hold up one hand, counting off the horrors as if they’re all just items in some cruel, twisted checklist.

“Then I wake up here, surrounded by strangers, and instead of giving me answers, you talk about me like I’m not even here. You keep asking if I’m ‘her,’ but no one bothers to tell me who ‘she’ is. So how about someone finally do that, and I’ll tell you if that’s who I am?”

The last words tear from my throat in a shout, the edge of my patience shattering. The room goes unnervingly still, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. My gaze darts between the three men, but none of them offer a single word of response.

Seconds stretch on endlessly, frustration boils my blood.

Finally, Thane murmurs, “I’m sorry, Darcie. We should have been more considerate of your state. Once you’re well, we will explain everything.”

“Like hell, we will.” Des’s body language pulses with anger as he strides away from the bookshelf, stomping toward the center of the room where the rest of us are.

“I’ve said everything that needs to be said.” He doesn't even look at me as he continues, his voice low and final, “She is not The One . Telling her anything about us would be a mistake. We should return her to her life as if none of this ever happened.”

“What if you’re wrong?” the man in the chair challenges, unfazed by the fire in Des’s glare. “We need unity. We have the potential to become the most powerful?—”

“Enough!” Des shouts, spinning to face me, his expression set in stone. “I’ll handle this myself.”

I lean back into the chair, my heart racing, a spike of alarm lancing through me as Des approaches. A brief, almost imperceptible flash of remorse crosses his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

He halts just inches from me, his presence overwhelming. I stare up at him, my breath catching in my throat.

“Des,” Thane’s almost pleading at this point. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.” His hand moves toward me. “It’s for the best.”

A desperate scream claws at my throat, but I press my lips together, squeezing my eyes shut, the pain from my rib intensifying with every erratic beat of my heart. But when Des’s fingers brush against the skin just above my ear, it’s like a switch flips.

My heart's frantic beat begins to slow, and a strange, calming sensation sinks in, almost hypnotic.

I draw in a breath, opening my eyes, only to find Des’s eyes are closed now.

The world around us is suspended, distant.

A gentle hum radiates from where his skin touches mine, a soft, almost imperceptible vibration at first. But then it intensifies, growing steady and soothing, a strange, electric energy that courses through me.

Fear, that tight knot in my chest, starts to unravel, replaced by something I can't name.

Open your eyes , I silently beg him, though I don’t know why. Look at me.

“What if you’re wrong?” the voice of the woman with the ebony hair cuts through the daze. My mind snaps back to the present. “What if this only creates more problems for us?”

Des doesn’t answer, but the skin around his eyes tightens.

No one questions him again.

The strange hum, the buzzing energy, spreads through me like liquid sunshine, washing away the last traces of anxiety and leaving behind something warm and weightless, almost peaceful.

My eyelids flutter, a wave of drowsiness rushing over me, too powerful to fight.

I’m vaguely aware of my body tipping forward. Strong arms catch me, drawing me against a firm chest.

A jolt of heat rushes through me, and with it, a flood of emotions—desire, longing, grief—cascades through me, overwhelming in its intensity.

Memories, fears, and worries all slip away, fading into nothing as if they had never existed at all.