Page 87 of The Immortal’s Mark

“Whoa.” I stop in my tracks.

Stone pillars rise into the air, cracked in places from the vines winding around them. A set of five steps leads up to the structure, crumbling along the edges from wear and weathering.

Des stops and turns to watch my reaction.

My eyes drink in the ruins.

The roof is missing. Through the gaps between the pillars, remnants of statues and mosaics greet me.

“Is it safe to go inside?” I ask.

“As long as we don’t touch anything.”

I move forward. Des falls into step behind me.

Slowly, I climb the aged steps and inhale a deep breath when I reach the opening.

I couch and brush dirt from the floor. It’s marble. I rise and turn in circles, taking in the broken statues on sturdy-looking pedestals. The women arch in graceful poses, their surfaces dulled by dirt and grime.

“This is Doric architecture,” I whisper, stunned. This structure is more than two thousand years old.

“Impressive.”

My pulse quickens, thrilled by the compliment. “Who built this place?”

“I did.”

“You?” I spin around. “You’ve lived in Greece this long?”

I thought Eshe and Lome met in Egypt in 400 BC. This structure would have been built at least two hundred years earlier.

Des crosses the space between us, stopping by the statue of the woman missing the tip of her nose.

“My brothers and I moved around, but I always considered Greece home. I built this place not long before Rome fell.”

I shake my head.

Even after weeks of knowing the Immortals, their reality still shocks me.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Because I know you admire ancient architecture.”

I blink. “How do you know that?”

Unease flashes over his handsome features, but it clears quickly. “You have a Parthenon keychain.”

I frown.

How does he⁠—

Wait…

The memory resurfaces.

Des. Standing in my bedroom after our first, mindblowing kiss.

Him telling me it was a mistake. That he and I were never meant to be.