Page 57 of The Immortal’s Mark

“I’ll go get Des right now,” Alex says. “Allow Gregory to return you to your room, and I will bring him to you immediately. He will answer your questions about the meeting.”

I search his face. Sincerity stares back, steady and unblinking.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Air puffs past my lips. “Fine.”

Gregory takes the cue, dipping to lift me. This time, I let him, arms looping instinctively around his neck.

Eshe moves with us, her dark braid swinging as she guides our path through the mansion.

Gregory carries me with smooth steps and a gentle touch, like I’m something fragile. My head settles against his chest.

“Glad to see Alex didn’t kill you for watching a movie,” I mumble, cheek pressed to his shirt.

He doesn’t laugh. “I’m fortunate my punishment was a tongue-lashing. I deserved worse.”

I frown. “You were keeping me company. If Alex has a problem with that, he can take it up with me.”

My newest friend does not deserve to be reprimanded on my account.

A small huff of amusement escapes him. “Careful. Someone listening might think you are not at all intimidated by Alexander. Or vampires, in general.”

“I’m not intimidated by you,” I say, letting my eyes slide closed.

His fingers flex against my arm, the grip tightening for a heartbeat before releasing.

“That, Darcie,” he says quietly, “is what makes you a valuable friend, and the reason I…”

Whatever else he says fades, softening into inaudible murmurs as my battered mind and body finally succumb to the lingering trauma pulling me down, and I fall asleep.

15

DARCIE

My brief moment of reprieve ends when Gregory lowers me onto the massive bed at the center of my room.

The instant my body meets the cool, lavender comforter, a bolt of electricity jolts through my body. Nerves fire. Muscles spasm. I cry out.

Gregory rears back. His already pale face turns white.

Eshe races to my side. “Darcie?”

“I’m okay.” I pant, struggling to prop myself up on my elbows. My vision blurs, but the alarming sensations begin to dull with each breath. “Can you help me sit up?”

She leans forward and slides two pillows behind me.

“Thanks,” I murmur, sinking into the soft support. Exhaustion tugs at my mind, but the residual pain keeps me conscious.

“You’re welcome.” She fluffs the corner pillow.

Eager for distraction from the fact that my mother is downstairs, I murmur, “You really should consider being a nurse or something.”

She snorts a laugh. “Hardly. Nebet was more suited to the task of caretaking.”

“Nebet?”