Page 45 of The Immortal's One
“We’re here.”
A massive three-story mansion looms at the bottom, its imposing structure stark against the surrounding wilderness. Inspired by ancient Grecian architecture, the mansion boasts a grand façade of white marble and limestone, its surfaces catching the pale light.
Rows of Corinthian columns support a pediment etched with weathered carvings. Tall hedges line the semi-circular driveway, carefully manicured to contrast the wild growth beyond the estate’s iron gate. The path curves toward oversized dark wood double doors, each carved with intricate patterns and flanked by gleaming white pillars that rise like sentinels guarding a forgotten temple.
The place looks like something straight out of a painting—a dream for any history or art enthusiast. But instead of admiration, a deep sense of dread settles in my gut.
The sight only serves to confirm my worst fear: I’m not in Maine.
“What in the…?” I trail off, my eyes wide as I take in the scene. “Where… where are we?”
And more importantly, how the hell did I get here?
“I told you.” The man shifts me in his arms, his fingers grazing the exposed skin on my back. I flinch, sparks racing through my body at the unexpected contact. He quickly pulls his hand away, his fingers pressing firmly against the back of my jacket. “We’re at Thane’s house.”
I’m pretty sure he didn’t tell me that…
I continue to admire the gorgeous mansion in front of me, trying to understand the impossibility of my situation.
Who would live in a place like this?
Evetta’s terrified voice echoes in my head:“Do not be hasty, my Lord. We only meant to do you a favor…”
I tilt my head back and narrow my gaze.Is this guy a noble?
Wait… is Thane?
What in the world was he doing in Brunswick?
Questions swirl in my mind, making me dizzy. The man keeps walking downhill, carrying me toward the front door. I expect him to set me down, but instead, he shifts my weight to one arm and pushes the door open, stepping into the foyer. The door slams shut behind us with a heavy thud.
Marble pillars rise from the polished mosaic-covered floor, stretching to a painted ceiling adorned with a fresco of cherubs floating among clouds in a brilliant blue sky. Painted scenes of men and women in dramatic poses unfold like visual stories along the room's edges.
I blink, my mouth hanging open. I’ve seen paintings like these in textbooks—depictions of gods and heroes from ancient cultures—but none of these are familiar. None resemble any of the stories from the Bible, either.
I don’t have time to take in the lavish details before I’m carried through a hallway to the left. Velvet wallpaper stretches along the length of the corridor, and gilded frames display portraits of men and women dressed in elaborate costumes. One man is in Victorian garb; another woman is in a Grecian toga.
Costumes, I assume. But why pay to have these portraits painted? And why are there so many?
The click of heels echoes down the hallway, growing louder.
My body reacts before I can stop it. A vivid image of Evetta’s spiked heels and the invisible force that nearly strangled me floods my senses. My hands grip the stranger’s shirt,and I bury my face in his chest. I’d be embarrassed if I weren’t so terrified.
I inhale deeply, and a masculine scent fills my nose.Evergreen. A thread of recognition tugs at the back of my mind.
The heels stop. A woman gasps. "What in the world?"
The man’s chest vibrates as he speaks. “Where is Thane?”
“He’s in his office.” The voice draws closer, the sharp click-click-click of shoes on the floor tapping against my chest. I shiver. "Is this…her?"
The man’s grip tightens. His breath brushes the top of my ear. “Are you all right?”
I swallow down my fear, willing the traumatizing memory to fade away. “Yeah.”
“Can you stand?”
I part my eyelids and lift my chin. The man stares over my head, not looking at me. Still, I nod.
