Page 154 of The Immortal's One
I tear my eyes off my childhood home and tilt my head up to look at the Immortal.
My breath hitches. His face rests inches away as his eyes trace my features—hisgreeneyes.
“We’re here,” he murmurs. His arms remain around me.
I shove down reservations and doubts. Emboldened by his touch and the emotion swirling in his eyes, I whisper, “I have a question.”
He doesn’t look away from me. “What is it?”
This is it.
I don’t know what I want Des to say, or if I’m even ready to hear it, but I have to know. Ideserveto know.
I press my lips together and stare into his eyes, silently begging him to be honest with me before I ask, “Will you finally tell me why your eyes turn green when you touch me?”
Am I actually yourOne? Did you lie before?Why do I feel sparks every time we touch?
His expression softens. His gaze turns thoughtful.
For a moment, I think he will answer.
I’m finally going to hear the truth from the Immortal’s lips—lips that devoured mine with so much passion that no matter what happens next, I’ll dream of them for the rest of my life.
Along with his glowing green eyes.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to speak.
It happens so fast.
One minute, he’s gazing at me with something I can only describe as affection, holding me like he doesn’t wantto let go. The next, his arms fall away, and he takes a step back.
His features harden.
My body grows cold.
Still, I hold out hope that he will say something.
He doesn’t.
“Des?” I wrap my arms around my torso to fight off the chill in the air. “Did you hear me?”
“You should go inside. It’s cold.”
“What?” Disbelief and anger flare. “No. Why won’t you answer me?”
Why are you still shutting me out?
He tucks his hands into his pockets. Still, he doesn’t speak.
I see red.
Rejection sucks, but I won’t let my anger distract me from pushing for answers… even if he doesn’t want to give them.
I take a deep breath, aware that the longer we stand out here under the streetlight, the greater the chances someone will see us. Des is right—it’s cold. I don’t want to freeze. But the truth might be worth the risk of a bit of frostbite.
“Des,” I begin in a low, cautious voice, licking my lips, nervous. “What happened between us… in the closet?—”
“Was a necessity. Nothing more.”
