Page 24 of The Immortal’s Mark

“Good.” His confident tone eases some of my anxiety. “Try not to move.”

I take a deep breath.

He begins to murmur soft syllables that slip through the air like a current. The language sounds old, melodic, threaded with power. I can’t understand a word, but the tone soothes something raw inside me.

My heartbeat syncs to the rhythm of his voice. I focus on that: inhale, exhale, listen.

Heat blooms where his palms touch my skin. Not the painful kind, more like sunlight through a window. The pressure inside my skull slowly eases, the pulsing pain dimming to a steady hum.

It feels…familiar.

Like I’ve been in this position before.

The thought slips away before I can grasp it.

Henry’s voice grows softer, the chant wrapping around me like a blanket.

My body sinks against the headboard, the world narrowing to the sound of Henry’s voice and the warmth of his touch.

Somewhere in the room, boots shift against the carpet.

I force my eyes open just enough to see Des lingering by the door, expression unreadable. His posture is all control, but his gaze on me burns with worry, frustration, and something else I can’t name.

Henry’s spell deepens, and the air in the room thickens with quiet power.

Swift and silent, Des steps backward into the shadowed hall.

By the time my eyes slide shut again, he’s gone.

Like he was never there at all.

6

DES

Months ago - Athens

My vow not to speak to my One lasts for less than half an hour.

I trail after her as she continues to wander through the National Garden. She pauses to take in the statues and sculptures spread throughout the greenery. Every single one earns her diligent attention, her thoughtful admiration.

I find myself envious of inanimate objects.

A pair of young men passes me, wearing thick-strapped sandals and carrying overstuffed backpacks. The scent of their knock-off cologne lingers in the air, assaulting my nostrils.

I don’t know why I watch them weave through the busy paths, not until their shaggy brown heads tilt together, muttering something I don’t bother to listen to, and they veer in my One’s direction.

My body grows rigid.

“Watch out,” an aged voice huffs behind me.

With a muttered apology, I step aside for the elderly couple, gritting my teeth as the tourists approach her.

One of the men clears his throat, and my One turns away from the sundial she’d been observing.

Her stunning blue irises widen in surprise, and her lips curl into a gentle, polite smile. “Hello?”

My feet move before my mind gives the order.