Page 108 of The Immortal's One
Des’s eyes narrow. “Instead of leaving me to guess your meaning, perhaps it would be best to just tell me what you’re talking about?”
My nostrils flare at his superior tone.
Gladly.
“Ever since we met, you’ve avoided touching me.” I take a deep breath and demand, “Why?”
Back in Portland, I’d thought Des was a jerk for reaching out a hand to keep me from falling. And I found him rude and dismissive when he carried me to the mansion after Evetta’s attack. He wouldn’t even look at me.
Now, I can’t help but think it was all intentional.
Before yesterday, anytime Des touched me, skin to skin, he averted his gaze.
Always.
His expression doesn’t change, but tension crackles between us, seconds away from bursting into flames.
The silence stretches long and thick. I brace myself for more deception. For more lies.
But Des sighs, low and resigned, and says, “Fine. Yes, I’ve avoided touching you.”
My gut twists. “Why?”
“I’ve lived through many different human civilizations.” His tone is flat, detached. “Until recent centuries, it was considered highly disrespectful—and often punishable—to touch a female who is not a family member. Those social norms are ingrained in me, and they… subconsciously influence my behavior.”
I want to believe him. I really do.
But I don’t.
I think of Lome and Thane. They’ve lived just as long as Des, yet they don’t seem to have any issue touching me. Maybe it’s because they’ve found theirOnes. Maybe it’s because they’ve accepted their place in this world.
No.
I won’t continue to make excuses.
If it was only the unusual sparks that peppered my skin when we touched, I might’ve been able to convince myself it didn’t mean anything. But the shocks aren’t what kept me up most of the night.
“Your eyes.” My gaze flits between his hazel irises, failing to see the green hue that haunts my dreams. I don’t let that dissuade me. I know what I saw. “After you touched me… they turned green.”
A flicker of panic crosses his features, but he is quick to mask it.
Before I can say anything more, he steps forward. The wind blowing in from the balcony picks up. A whooshing noise fills the room. The bedroom door and the patio doors slam shut at the same moment.
I jolt. My pulse spikes.
“Don’t.” His voice deepens in a low warning, taking another step. “Don’t say such things out loud.”
I back up, my legs hit the bed. My heart races in my chest, but I refuse to back down. “Why not?” I ask. “What does it mean?”
His chest rises and falls with each ragged intake of air. But his eyes remain hard, distant. “I can’t say. We cannot discuss such things. Not here. Not now.”
A wave of foreboding washes over me. “If not now, then when?”
I feel like I’m running out of time. Everything I thought I knew about my situation starts to come undone. Des is the only one who can give me answers—the answersI need to make sense of it all.
But he won’t. Not yet. He’s drawing a line in the sand. He’s trying to pull back.
I won’t let him.
