Page 17 of The Immortal’s Mark

Traitor.

I laugh, and Gregory actually chuckles—a low, rough sound that I suspect doesn’t get heard much.

And just like that, the heaviness of my earlier sadness lessens a bit.

Maybe I won’t be so lonely after all.

4

DARCIE

“You cannot seriously wish to watch that insipid movie again.” Gregory scoffs from his position by the door. His British accent sharpens on insipid, like the word itself tastes bitter. “That’s the third time in as many days.”

I sit on a black leather couch in the brothers’ media room, searching for my favorite romantic comedy on a movie app.

“I seriously do,” I reply, unapologetic. “It’s my favorite.”

“Can’t we watch something else? Anything else?” He sounds so pathetic it’s almost comical.

I narrow my eyes at the vampire. “I didn’t think you watched the movies. Aren’t you supposed to be standing guard?”

His posture resets in a snap, shoulders squared, jaw tightening. He angles his face away from my grin.

Guilt creeps in.

It’s taken days for Gregory to loosen up, and I don’t want to spook him back into his no-nonsense guard mode.

“Fine,” I concede with exaggerated defeat. “I’ll pick something else.”

“Thank you.” His voice is careful, measured, but the corner of his mouth twitches, betraying him.

“Ridiculous,” I mutter with a smile and click through the movie options.

The media room’s low lighting pools across black leather couches and built-in bookshelves that look more like museum displays, littered with priceless artifacts.

A massive flat screen dominates the far wall, reflecting the glow of the app menu across my face. This whole setup is awesome and criminally underused. I didn’t even know it was here the first time I stayed in the mansion.

“How about a musical?” I call over my shoulder.

Gregory groans.

I bite my lip to hold in a laugh. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Correct.”

I scroll through titles, pretending to weigh my options, every few seconds tossing an over-the-top suggestion back at him just to watch his expressions shift from polite horror to genuine disbelief. It’s the most fun I’ve had in a week.

Eventually, we settle on one of the classic James Bond films. His suggestion.

Action, guns, explosions. My dad used to love these films. We spent many Saturday nights watching secret agents on the couch, stuffing our faces with popcorn. The memory makes my heart ache.

I grab the oversized blanket draped across the couch and burrow in as the opening credits roll, featuring bold music, enticing silhouettes, and fancy technology.

Gregory abandons his position and lowers himself into the recliner nearest the door. His back remains perfectly straight, posture rigid, but his gaze flickers between the screen and the doorway.

The movie starts, and a sense of normalcy flows through me.

Right now, Gregory and I are just two people watching a movie. The stress of reality takes a back seat.