Cassian (The Immortal Highland Centurions #2) - Jayne Castel Page 0,65

fell long ago, and here I remain. Cursed. Immortal.”

Aila stared down at him for a long moment before her lip curled. “I can’t believe I have wasted all this time longing for a deceiver such as ye.” Her voice shook as rage seized her.

Cassian held her eye, something deep within his chest twisting. She didn’t believe him—which called for drastic measures.

He drew the pugio from his belt.

The large, leaf-shaped blade of his dagger gleamed in the dull light. To the east, the first glimmers of dawn were teasing their way through the trees. The timing was perfect. He didn’t want to do this—not least of all because it would hurt—but she wouldn’t believe him otherwise.

They weren’t alone in the clearing. If he revealed who he was to Aila, the other women would discover his secret too. But it couldn’t be helped. Cassian’s breathing quickened. He was desperate for her to believe him now. To think he’d condemned Maximus for telling a mortal woman their secret—and he’d done the same thing. But now he’d revealed who he was, he’d take this to the bitter end. He had to show her who he really was.

“This dagger has been with me since the beginning,” he said, running his finger along its whetted blade. The pad of his finger stung as it drew blood.

Aila continued to stare at him, disgust written across her features. She clearly thought him raving now.

Cassian’s fingers flexed around the handle of the pugio, and then he drew in a deep breath, bracing himself for the agony that would follow. “I’m sorry you have to see this … but it’s the only way you are going to believe me.”

And then he turned the blade upon himself, gripped both hands around the hilt, and drove it straight into his heart.

Aila screamed, the terrified sound echoing through the trees.

The man had lost his wits.

Unease had stolen over her when he’d drawn the odd-shaped dagger, and her belly had tightened when he’d run his finger along the exposed blade. But she’d never anticipated his next move.

And now the dagger was buried to the hilt in the left side of his chest.

In his heart.

Bile surged up Aila’s throat as she staggered back from him.

Cassian’s face contorted, his eyelids fluttering in agony. “Mithras,” he croaked, his jaw bunching as he arched back against the tree trunk. He then yanked the blade from his chest.

Horrified, Aila watched dark blood ooze from the wound.

“What have ye done?” Her words came out in a wail. “Cassian … why?”

Panic surged through her, followed by a wave of nausea. Forgetting her horror, as fear for his well-being swamped her, she rushed back to him, her hands fumbling for his. Cassian had just dealt himself a mortal wound. He was about to die.

Cassian’s gaze snared hers, and for a moment, the rest of the world fell away.

“It’s the only way you’d believe me,” he gasped, his fingers tightening around hers. “I’m sorry, Aila.”

“Aila! What is it?” Lady Gavina appeared at her shoulder. Aila twisted around to see the others had rushed up behind her.

All three women stared at Cassian, horror etched upon their faces.

Still clutching Aila’s hands, Cassian lay back against the oak, panting. Pain glazed his eyes.

“Ye stabbed him?” Jean demanded, horrified.

“I didn’t!” Aila choked out, her gaze returning to the wound on his bare chest. “He did this to himself. I don’t—”

“Watch me,” Cassian cut in, his voice a dull rasp. “I should be dead by now … but still I breathe. And with the rising of the sun, I shall be made whole once more.”

Lady Elizabeth gasped. “What is the man raving about?”

“He says he’s immortal,” Aila replied, her voice wobbling. “And he just stabbed himself to prove it.”

“Cassian.” Lady Gavina moved forward, her gaze riveted upon the bleeding wound. “What possessed ye to do something so foolish?”

Cassian favored Lady De Keith with a smile that was more of a grimace. “To prove a point, My Lady. Watch now … the sun rises.”

Aila disentangled her fingers from his, swallowing down the urge to be sick. She was trembling now, for horror had chilled her blood.

But as she looked on, her heart thudding dully against her ribs, the sun crested the tops of the woodland to the east and bathed the valley in golden light. It crept over Cassian’s prostrate form, and his eyes fluttered shut.

To Aila, he looked on the verge of death.

Why? The question was a silent scream within her. A boulder sat on her chest now,