Page 23 of The Immortal’s Mark

He strides toward the door. The heavy fabric of his robe swishes as he leaves, muttering something under his breath about uncooperative Immortals.

I lock eyes with Alex, and his strained smile fails to conceal his worry.

“I’m going to be fine,” I tell him, voice steadier than I feel. “Trust me. This happens all the time.”

“That is not comforting.”

I open my mouth for a sarcastic comeback, but another voice fills the room instead.

“No, it is not.”

Des.

My pulse trips, and warmth flows through me.

Des strides into the room, tall, composed, looking every inch the powerful, formidable Immortal he is known to be.

His gaze trails over me, and for a heartbeat, he falters.

His lips part slightly before snapping back into a line. Then that hard, commanding look I know too well settles in.

“What are you doing?” He demands of the male kneeling beside me. His tone is sharp, laced with threat.

The man doesn’t flinch. His hands hover over my chest, still moving in that eerie, methodical rhythm. “I am preparing to place her in a healing sleep.”

“Wait, what?” I start.

Des’s voice cuts through mine like thunder, “Did you not hear the warlock suggest an alternative treatment?”

He motions toward the door.

Henry has returned, standing at the threshold.

Did he summon Des?

“You will answer me, Healer Mark,” Des grits out. The authority in his tone isn’t loud, but it fills the space, impossible to ignore.

“This treatment worked well last time,” the healer replies, still not lifting his eyes. His palms continue to glow faintly as he moves them lower, toward my shin.

“We did not know the source of her ailment last time.” A pulse of his power makes the lights flicker. “Now that we are aware, you will defer to the warlock on the proper course of treatment.”

Henry steps forward right on cue, folding his hands calmly.

The healer hesitates. For a moment, I think he’ll continue to ignore them both. His fingers press lightly against my leg.

A low growl rumbles from Des’s chest, barely audible but primal enough to send a chill down my spine.

Healer Mark pushes to his feet, muttering something sharp under his breath as he strides out, avoiding everyone’s eyes. The door shuts with a dull click.

Henry exhales and takes the healer’s vacated spot beside me.

“Darcie?” He speaks gently. “Will you look at me?”

I do, focusing on the faint wrinkle between his brows.

His hands come up to frame my face, cool and steady but not cold like Alex’s. “The visions have accumulated pressure in your mind. I’m going to release it, but I’ll need you to breathe evenly, slow and steady, while I work. Can you do that?”

I nod, though even that motion spikes the ache in my head.