The Immortal’s Mark (Bound to the Immortals #3)

Prologue

DES

Restlessness haunts my steps.

I cannot explain it. The unsettling emotion greets me the moment I am awoken by the autumn sun spilling through my windows, wrapping around my chest like a too-tight tunic.

I try to ignore it, to convince myself nothing is amiss, but the sensation refuses to abate.

It lingers.

Grows.

I sit in Thane’s study, watching Bella flit around, holding various fabrics against his chest for a new sports coat, when the feeling finally becomes too much.

I lower the latest missive from our spies on the growing rebellion’s efforts and rise from the chair. “I’m going to take a trip.”

“A trip?” Thane asks.

“Where to?” my sister-in-law tilts her head. She tries to appear passively interested, but sharp awareness lingers in her brown eyes.

Bella is perceptive, and a spontaneous trip is out of character for me.

“I don’t know. Crete…Athens?”

The moment I name the Grecian capital, a sense of urgency fills me.

That is where I must go.

I shrug and continue, “I just need to get out of the mansion.”

“Of course.” Bella’s expression softens. “That sounds lovely. With the tourist season coming to an end, the cities should not be too crowded.”

I had not considered that.

“Exactly.” I nod. “It would be nice to see how much everything has changed.”

Thane grunts. “It sounds like an entertaining diversion. Perhaps we should join you?”

“My love,” Bella interrupts quickly. “I need you to stay put and finish your fitting. I want to get your new wardrobe ordered before this evening.”

“Of course, my dear. I apologize.” Thane’s gaze shifts back to me. “If I finish with my fitting and you are still about, do you mind if I join you?”

“I have no objection to that,” I lie.

“Splendid,” Thane says. “I hope to meet you on the streets of Athens.”

I dip my chin. “Very well.”

As I turn to leave, I catch Bella’s apologetic look.

I force a small smile.

Bella is attuned to the emotions of others. Unfortunately, not even Thane’s thousands of years on Earth have granted him mastery of that particular skill.

After ensuring Argos has been fed breakfast, I step outside the mansion and envision the National Garden in the heart of Athens.

The image forms clearly in my mind.

In the next instant, the world shifts, and I step through the rip.

Warm air greets me, brushing across my face as if welcoming me to the bustling oasis. Tall palm fronds rustle overhead. Voices swirl through the air, dozens of conversations blending into a lively hum.

I grit my teeth.

I forgot how loud the mortal world can be. The noise is a stark contrast to the quiet mansion.

Seeking respite from the bustling crowd of middle-aged women gawking at the bubbling fountain before them, I follow the familiar path past the duck pond and the statue honoring Lord Byron.

I reach the quaint café adjacent to the children’s library and take a seat with my back facing the other café’s patrons.

My gaze wanders across the park, watching families stroll beneath the trees and tourists stop to photograph the scenery.

When a waiter approaches, I order a medium-roast coffee before returning my attention to the life unfolding around me, pointedly ignoring the whispers from the women seated on the patio behind me.

I’m not immune to admiration.

Creator knows, I’ve indulged in my share of dalliances, but they never meant anything. All they provided was a brief respite from centuries of loneliness—of watching one of my brothers thrive with the love of his life while the other pines after his.

There are times I am desperate to be ordinary, when I revel in the illusion that I am a normal male with normal desires.

But today is not that kind of day.

No amount of flirtation could distract me from the persistent ache of discontent spreading through my chest.

If anything, the sensation grows stronger with every passing second.

So, I ignore the admiring murmurs behind me and focus on the conversations drifting through the park.

Families debate their sightseeing plans. A couple argues quietly about where to eat dinner. A young boy loudly complains about how boring the garden tour is.

I don’t suppress a smile.

I cannot blame him.

Even as an adult, I find the gardens rather unremarkable. Personally, I would prefer a museum or an ancient temple.

Still, I’d hoped the fresh air would calm the unease inside me.

It does not.

I drain half of my coffee in minutes.

The waiter reappears. “Refill, sir?”

“No, thank you.” My soul remains unsettled. I need to move—to search for a different method of reprieve before I claw my skin.

He leaves with a nod, and a blur of blue dances into my line of sight.

My eyes snap to the movement.

A slender blonde wanders down the path in front of the café. Her pale blue skirt shifts on the breeze, drawing attention to long, tan legs. Her golden ponytail sways as she bends forward to admire a bush of blooming flowers.

She’s lovely.

But it isn’t her beauty that holds my attention.

No, it’s the pull.

The powerful, undeniable force slams into my chest, stealing the air from my lungs and sending my heart into a violent rhythm that bruises my sternum.

It can’t be…

The woman studies a National Garden map, glancing between the paper and the nearby park sign. Her lips purse in frustration.

The ache within me grows.

Two centuries…two hundred years have passed since I last encountered my One.

Time should have dulled the infatuation.

Distance should have weakened the pain.

But all the memories and emotions flood back in the seconds it takes for me to catalog her familiar features. Her pert nose. Her expressive eyes. Her lush lips.

My blood heats, and realization settles heavily on my shoulders.

Today’s uneasiness suddenly makes sense.

This morning’s discomfort…the restlessness…

My soul knew she was near.

And now that I see her, it aches for me to go to her.

This moment is not a circumstance of chance.

Every time I have encountered my One across the centuries has been an orchestrated event, arranged by the Creator Himself.

Once, I was grateful for those second chances.

Each time I met my One, I fell in love with her. It is never a question. She is always extraordinary. Always kind. Always intelligent. Always mine.

Until I lose her.

The coffee mug cracks under my grip.

I release a pent-up breath and relax my fingers.

The tragedies of my Ones’ untimely deaths haunt me every night I close my eyes.

After two hundred years, I thought the Creator had finally taken pity on me and freed me from the agony of finding my One only to lose her.

Alas, it seems I was wrong.

My One navigates through the crowd, murmuring apologies when she bumps into someone, her voice soft and melodic.

She’s American.

The accent is unmistakable.

She smiles at a man who tips his hat in greeting, stealing the breath from my lungs.

She approaches the edge of the plaza, only a few steps from disappearing down the path toward the inner gardens, so close to leaving my sight.

My chair scrapes loudly as I stand.

I pull my wallet from my back pocket and toss a large bill onto the table without a second glance.

Then I am rushing after her.

Despite every vow I have made to avoid this exact situation, I cannot stop myself.

My past is filled with the tragic deaths of women whose only crime was being my One.

I swore I would never pursue another.

Yet, now that she is before me, I cannot walk away.

My soul won’t allow it.

I will give myself one day…

I won’t even speak to her.

I just want one day to be near the woman the Creator has deemed my equal in every way.

The same one Fate is determined to never allow me to have as my own.