Page 165 of The Immortal’s Mark

My thoughts may be a mess, but I’m calm.

What is going on?

I swing my legs out from under the comforter tucked diligently under my thighs and slide off the bed. My feet touch the floor. I pause and flex my toes against the soft carpet, marveling at the intensity of the ordinary sensation.

I tug my wrinkled shirt down to meet the waistband of the matching sleep shorts and approach the balcony.

My steps are slow. Light. Fluid. Not like me at all.

My heart flutters when Des’s voice trails back to me. He sounds tense. The urge to go to him and alleviate his discomfort nearly steals my breath.

I stop and bite my lip, my brow furrowed.

What is this?

“She will hate me for the rest of time for what I’ve done,” Des says.

My stomach clenches, and instinct says he’s speaking about me. A

The thought that he blames himself for anything that happened with Adir has me hurrying forward, desperate to free him of his guilt.

“You do not know that,” Alex replies, frustrated. “And instead of assuming what Darcie thinks, you should simply ask her.”

“I agree.” I exhale.

Both men whirl around.

A glance confirms Alex looks okay after facing off with his father, but my attention is quick to focus on Des.

A warm gold halo surrounds his body, an aura. One that matches the one kissing my own skin.

Des stumbles, his back colliding with the railing, and a stricken look crosses his face.

Concern grips me.

“Des?”

Is he okay?

Before I can utter the question, he closes the distance between us and wraps me in his strong arms.

My soul sings. My blood races. Every inch of my body preens under the contact, but concern overwhelms those breathtaking emotions.

He nuzzles my neck, and warmth floods my veins.

“Des?” I murmur. “Are you alright?”

He sighs. “I am now.”

I don’t know what to say.

But I know I don’t want him to let me go.

I slide my hands tighter around his back, pressing my palms against his rippling muscles.

A throat clears. “I’ll just…I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Alex’s form blurs across the balcony, but I don’t turn my head to watch his exit. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.