Page 97 of The Immortal's One
The plan sounds just as ludicrous the second time around.
My mind rebels against it.
“Why would Adir want to help us?” I don’t know much about Immortal politics, but I know the blond Immortal didn’t act friendly to Des or his brothers in that meeting I crashed.
Des doesn’t hesitate. “Because Adir believes me when I say you’re not myOne.”
“Why?” Why does Adir believe him when his own brothers don’t?
Des’s stare doesn’t falter. “Because if you were myOne, I would jump at the chance to solidify my position as the strongest Immortal. Or so Adir thinks.”
An ugly emotion twists my chest.
I refuse to give it a name.
Des continues, “Since I haven’t claimed you, Adir believes me when I say you aren’t myOne. And he’s pledged his support.”
“His support?” I repeat, casting my gaze to the floor.
“In my desire to return you home.”
I don’t hide the doubt on my face.
Des’s shoulders tense. “I know this is a lot to take in, Darcie. I understand if you’ve changed your mind about using the ball to arrange your return home.”
He doesn’t offer empty reassurances or attempt to convince me. Des has shared his plan. Now, it’s my choice whether or not to follow through with it.
I close my eyes, weighing my options.
I don’t trust Adir, but despite everything, I do trust Des.
We’re stuck in a situation where no one’s listening to us. The Immortals believe in prophecies and destiny, and no one can see beyond that.
What better way to convince them I’m not Des’s soulmate than by being seen entangled with another Immortal? According to Des, a soulmate would never be able to do that without consequence.
Once the news spreads, the rebellion will have no reason to target me. I’ll be able to go back to my life, back to Maine, as if none of this ever happened.
And yet, despite the logic, my palms grow sweaty. Something feels off, ominous, like the calm before a vicious storm.
I exhale a slow, heavy breath and open my eyes.
Des’s gaze snaps to mine, his focus intense.
A flush rises to my cheeks.Did he just check me out?
It doesn’t matter.
“Okay.” My voice sounds firm despite my inner turmoil. I clear my throat and ignore the unsettling tightness in my gut. “I’ll do it. I’ll kiss Adir.”
I inhale a tiny gasp as a sudden jolt of pain pricks my stomach, but it’s not from the pins. I glance down, trying to pinpoint the source of my discomfort, but the sensation fades before I can make sense of it.
What the hell was that?
“Great,” Des says, yanking my attention back to him. His tone carries an edge—the kind that comes when you say something you know you can’t take back. “It’s a plan.”
26
“One,two, three. One, two, three. That’s it. Keep your chin up, Darcie.”
