Page 81 of Chasing Paradise

His hand shot out, closing around my arm, squeezing so hard I saw stars.

But I let it stay.

Lord knew it was nothing compared to his pain.

“It will pass,” I told him as his hand clenched so hard, I thought he might crush bone. “It won’t last forever. I know that won’t help now, but it will pass, okay?”

The night came down around us slowly as Wick writhed. He alternated between panting, groaning, or yelling.

But as it got dark, the forest got quiet, and my heart hammered, worried that the sounds of his pain might draw the assassins toward us.

I jumped at every crunch, my stomach clenching.

“Okay, try to breathe with me,” I said as I poured some water on a pair of my clean underwear, using it to mop his heated, red face.

I sucked in a deep breath, waiting for him to try to do the same. And he did. But the pain just made it impossible, making him break off into curses or howls.

So I just kept wiping his forehead, rubbing his arms, talking to him, reminding him that it would ease, that he would feel better eventually.

As the night dragged on, though, the pain either continued to get worse, or his tolerance lowered.

“I know. I’m sorry,” I said, pressing my hand over his mouth to muffle his cries, terrified the men would find us while he was incapacitated and we couldn’t get away. “It won’t be too much longer,” I assured him, pressing my forehead to his overheated one. “It’s going to pass.”

The night dragged on forever.

But somewhere toward the morning, his groans became fewer, lower, and my hand moved away from his mouth.

At some point, I must have drifted off because I woke with a start, gasping, shooting up, terrified at Wick’s stillness beneath me.

“It’s okay. We’re alright,” Wick assured me, his voice sounding exhausted but not tense.

“Did it stop?” I asked, leaning down to look at his leg. The skin was still a bit swollen, but it had gone down a lot, and the redness had faded to a less alarming pink.

“It’s still sore as fuck,” Wick said, drawing my gaze back up to his face.

His eyes looked small and red with deep, sleepless bruises beneath.

“But it’s nothing like it was. I probably got all the venom in that little fucker. I didn’t realize the stinger was stuck in. If I’d been present of mind enough to pull it out sooner, it might not have been so bad.”

“It took me a while to find it too.”

“It would have emptied into me before you even got here,” he said, reaching out to brush my hair behind my ear. “You came when you heard me.”

“You were screaming.”

“I could have been getting tortured by assassins.”

“You would have come for me,” I said, knowing it down to my bones. “Besides, I was dead out here without you anyway. The spiders were starting to mobilize.”

That got a small laugh out of him.

“Here, you need to hydrate. I’ve never seen someone sweat that much in my life,” I told him, handing him a bottle of water.

“Jesus,” he said, reaching for my wrist instead, bringing my arm closer to inspect the bracelet of bruises on my skin. “I did that?”

“It’s fine. You needed something to hold onto.”

“Does it hurt?”

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