Page 42 of The Immortal's One
“Please, Your Highness,” the other woman begs. “Have mercy.”
The man lifts his chin, his features unreadable. “Mercy is a gift I will not be giving this day.”
My body warms at the sound of his deep, commandingtone. Calm flows over me, and a sense of safety washes away the unease that had taken root when the women first entered the bathroom.
Whatever happens next, I know that with him here, I’ll be okay. I’m sure of it.
That is, until another blinding light flares to life, this time starting beneath the two women huddled in the corner.
“What? No!”
“Please, we didn’t—” Whatever the woman wants to say is cut off. Her mouth falls open in a silent, agonized scream.
I reach out as if I can help, but I can’t.
One second, the women stare at the man in horror. Next, there’s another bright flash. When I open my eyes, tendrils of smoke curl into the air.
The women are… gone.
13
I scream.Or at least, I try to. The sound that escapes me is more of a croak, strangled by the remnants of the pressure that damaged my throat.
“Darcie.”
I drag my eyes from where the women had been cowering and stare into the face of the man who crashed into the restroom and saved me. His eyes are sharp with concern. His broad shoulders, tall height, and curled fists paint a formidable image. Lingering fury wafts off his body.
He knows my name. I should be afraid. But I’m not.
Recognition tickles the back of my head.
I need to get checked out by a medical professional ASAP.
"Darcie?" His firm lips form my name again, more insistent. "Are you hurt?"
I open my mouth to answer, but no sound comes out. I swallow thickly, wincing at the pain, but manage to choke out, "H-how do you know my name?"
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans forward, his voice low and commanding. "Darcie, focus. Are you hurt?"
A tug pulls my chest, urging me to get up and meet him halfway.
I imagine my butt is glued to the tile beneath me, desperately trying to avoid doing something mortifying, like throwing myself at this striking man.
There’s definitely something wrong with me.
"Darcie?" His tone softens, though impatience flickers in his gaze. Still, his concern is obvious.
"I'm okay," I rasp.
His gaze sharpens, and green flashes in his hazel eyes. A second later, the color is gone, replaced by something else—something more urgent—as he closes the distance between us and kneels in front of me. His hand reaches out, fingers hovering near my neck.
His nostrils flare, and a hiss passes his lips. "She strangled you."
"I'm okay," I repeat. I don’t know why, but the need to reassure this man is strong.
He pulls back, his hand falling to his side. His jaw clenches. "Were there any others?"
The way he looks at me… it’s like he’s known me forever. Like he’d do anything to protect me.
