Page 20 of Diamond Kisses

I killed us all.

I just wanted death to claim me because I didn’t deserve to be here. I didn’t deserve to talk to her in the snatches of time between nightmares. Didn’t deserve to see her fading across the dungeon, her gorgeous skin going sickly from lack of sunlight, her curves vanishing thanks to starvation, the light in her golden eyes turning dull.

But…while she breathed,Ihad to breathe.

While she still fought, I would fight.

With a guttural groan, I shifted upright on the plywood cot that’d been my coffin for too long. No mattress beneath me. Only a scratchy woollen blanket to cover me. Every inch of me cracked with filth and dried blood, minus the areas of my body that had open wounds.

Those areas were neatly scrubbed and dressed, ensuring I didn’t die of infection.

I vaguely remembered having an IV line attached to me for a while in the beginning. I’d flinched as the needle poked into my vein. I’d found Dr Belford’s face looming over me before I’d drifted off on another river of sleep.

Rubbing my eyes, I gathered what strength I had and forced myself to focus on Ily and Peter a few metres away. They had their own wooden cots, blankets, water bucket, and enough chain so they could move to the toilet tucked behind a rock wall.

My gaze locked on their golden collars flickering in the lights glowing on the chilly dungeon walls. Such a regal, royal metal, yet it marked us as the lowest of the low.

My heart twisted as I glanced at the cuffs around my own wrists.

They lashed my arms with a never-warming cold, the small electricity nodes on the inside band scratchy against my already beaten skin.

I’d tried getting them off in one of my more energetic moments. I’d whacked my wrists against the dungeon walls over and over again, clanging, clanging, clanging.

The broken bone in my forearm did not appreciate that.

It’d ached with fire for days afterward.

And for what?

My attempt at removing the godawful cuffs hadn’t worked.

And I’d passed out from the effort.

Skipping more days, losing more time, more hope, more life.

I sighed heavily as the chain tinkled behind me, connecting to my collar, keeping me firmly locked on this side of the cell. I could reach the toilet too—with an age of shuffling and blackspots dancing on my vision—but I couldn’t reach them.

Couldn’t touch her.

Hug her.

We’d tried.

On the first day I’d had the strength to fall out of bed, I’d crawled toward her. My eyes stung with the need to feel her. My heart felt like it would explode if I didn’t kiss her.

She’d dashed toward me.

Peter had shook his head sadly.

And we’d both jerked to a stop, just centimetres from touching.

A few lousy millimetres.

That was all that blocked us from comforting one another. Caressing and loving, sharing body heat and love in a place so full of hate.

“Henri…”

I forced a smile and looked at the love of my life. “I’m okay,mon cœur. I’m up.”

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