Page 107 of The Immortal's One
But after Des touched me… after I felt that otherworldly sensation zipping through my entire body and drank in his green eyes… my doubt has been growing.
For the first time since I was ripped away from Maine and thrust into this world of Immortals and magic, I’m questioning if there is, in fact, something that connects me to the stoic Immortal.
And if so, what the hell does that mean for my future?
Ireallyneed to talk to Des.
Andsoon.
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My fingers hoverover the button to call my dad. A strange, unshakable urge to hear his voice before the ball gnaws at me.
Maybe it’s because of the sinking weight in my stomach, the one that’s grown heavier ever since Eshe and Bella left me alone in my room. Talking to my dad might calm me in a way nothing else can.
But I’ve run out of time.
The door creaks open. “Are you ready?”
I lower my phone, and my stomach does a little flip when I drink in the sight of Des standing in the doorway, looking like he stepped off the pages of a billionaire romance novel.
His midnight-black tuxedo hugs his frame in all the right places. His dark hair is styled neatly, but the waves soften the sharp lines of his otherwise polished appearance. From the crisp white shirt to the shining black shoes, every detail screams confidence, as if he’s both aware of and indifferent to the attention he’ll undoubtedly draw in the ballroom.
His eyes, back to their hazel color, pull me to him like a magnet.
But as enthralling as Des is, I can’t forget the questions that have been weighing on my mind, driving me to the brink of insanity while I waited for him to arrive to escort me to the ball.
Over an hour ago.
“Are you serious?” I jerk my head once, irritation replacing my admiration. Pushing off the edge of the bed, I stand tall and smooth the wrinkles out of my wide skirt.
Des’s expression is unreadable. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve been waiting for you for an hour.” I cross my arms over my chest and plant my feet in place. I refuse to be distracted by how his presence makes my heart race. “I need to talk to you.”
Without a flicker of emotion, he extends his arm, his voice cool. “We can talk on the way down to dinner. Ready?”
I don’t move. Not yet.
I hold his gaze, not backing down. “What happened the other night, Des?”
A muscle feathers in his jaw. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I glare.
“Don’t.” I grit my teeth and take a step closer. “Don’t lie to me. You knowexactlywhat I’m talking about.”
The memory of that night replays in my head for the one-thousandth time.
The shock on Des’s face…
The way hisgreeneyes shone for a second before he bolted out of the room.
He’d panicked. He knew what I saw.
I’m sure of it.
Now, I just need him to admit it. And help me understand what the hell is going on.
