Page 35 of The Immortal’s Mark

Des’s hold tightens.

“It’s okay,” he whispers again, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself. Then, turning his head, he shouts toward the door, voice breaking the air like thunder. “Lome!”

Footsteps echo in from the hall. “What in the he⁠—”

“Get a Healer!” Des cuts him off, the command sharp as a blade. “Get Henry. Something’s wrong with Darcie.”

More footsteps. Then silence, thick and suffocating.

A calloused hand brushes the damp hair from my forehead. Des exhales near my temple, the sound raw. I can feel his gaze tracing every tremor that rolls through me, every involuntary twitch.

He says something I can’t catch, voice low and desperate. Then warm lips touch my brow.

The kiss moves to my temple, cheekbone, and jaw. Each press is both gentle and torturous. Every brush of his mouth sends a new wave of fire lashing through my skin.

I try to beg him to stop, but my body betrays me again. Not a sound escapes.

He keeps going, stubborn, until he finally pulls back with a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I thought it might work.”

Like last time, I think weakly.

The last time I was paralyzed, his touch was the key that broke the spell. His kiss roused me from unconsciousness.

But whatever this is…it’s different. Frighteningly so.

Voices murmur from the doorway. More footsteps. The air shifts, and Des moves aside as another presence replaces him.

“What happened?” Alex’s tone slices through the haze, cold and urgent.

“I don’t know.” Des’s answer is sharp, ragged. “I felt her panic. When I came in, she was like this.”

The bed dips again.

New hands, softer, clinical, touch my face. I want to flinch away, to scream for them to stop touching me, but I’m a statue. Every poke, every prod burns.

After a long silence, the stranger finally speaks, “I cannot help her.”

Des growls. “What do you mean, Mark? You’re a Healer. Heal her.”

“I can’t.” The man’s voice is tight, defensive. “The symptoms are internal. No external spell. No toxin. There’s nothing to target. I can’t heal what isn’t there.”

“Are you saying she’s faking it?” Alex snarls.

A scuffle follows. A crash, then a grunt, and the distinct thud of someone hitting a wall.

“That’s enough,” Des’s command booms through the room.

Alex’s growl is followed by another’s rough exhale. The sound of strained breathing fills the room.

“Go find Henry,” Alex orders.

Footsteps retreat fast down the hall.

Stillness returns, heavy and expectant.

“What’s wrong with her?” Lome’s voice breaks the silence, quieter than I’ve ever heard it. “She looks…”