Page 4 of Inked Athena

I grab the gun to get it out of my way, to have both hands free to catch her, to hold her face and lower her to the couch so she can rest. She looks so tired.

But she springs backwards.

Her gaze flicks from me to the weapon, and I know what she’s thinking. I see it written there plainly half a second before she turns and flees through the door.

Fuck.

“Nova!”

I curse again, toss the gun in the chair, and tear after her, but she’s fast. Faster than she has any right to be in her condition, and I know she must be hurting herself. It’ll only get worse ifI chase her, but as she disappears into the trees, I don’t have a choice.

Some dark part of me thinks I’ll always be chasing after this woman.

The sky is gloomier than it was even a few minutes ago. Heavy rain clouds have rolled in, blotting out the sun. Still, I can follow her path through the trees. There are sliding tracks in the mud and broken branches where she’s weaving and dodging the trees—and me.

Because she thinks I’m going to shoot her. That I’m here to kill her.

I’m not sure what’s worse: knowing she’s hurting herself more with every step or knowing that what she’s running from isme.

“Nova!” I call again. “Stop!”

I need to catch her, make sure she’s okay, and then kill the people responsible. We don’t have time for this.

I follow her path until, finally, in the distance, I see her. She’s clinging to a tree with both arms, panting to catch her breath.

As I close the distance, her eyes snap to mine. Our gazes lock for a moment, and I think she’ll stop. She’ll see the truth in my eyes that I want to hold her and help her and figure out what the fuck is going on.

Instead, she stumbles away from the tree and into the dense foliage hiding a steep ravine.

There isn’t even time to issue a warning before she pushes through the leaves and falls away.

“NOVA!”

I throw myself into a sprint, barely slowing as I reach the edge of the ravine. I angle my body to the side and ski down the steep bank, using my foot to slow my fall.

Stones and branches and gnarled roots rip open my skin, but I don’t care about any of it. All I can focus on is Nova, lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the gully.

“No, no, no,” I snarl. “Please, please, please…”

I never beg. Never pray. God and I haven’t been on speaking terms since I was five years old. But I’ll fall to my knees right now and build a thousand churches if it means she’s alive.

I skid to a stop and crawl the rest of the way over to her. “Nova.”

She doesn’t move except for the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

Carefully, I pick her up and cradle her against my body. She smells like damp and dirt, and fuck me, this isn’t how it was supposed to be.

I prop her more securely against my chest, and she lets out a faint, exhausted moan.

I want to tell her it’s going to be okay.

I want to tell her that she’s safe now.

I want to tell her that I’m going to take care of her.

Instead, I hold her close and carry her back to the cabin.

A weak moan escapes her lips as I adjust my grip. “I’ve got you,” I murmur in Russian, the language of my heart. “You’re safe now.”

---