Page 25 of Canvas of Lies
“Give me a second. Once I have a good hold on you, you can just let go. I’ll catch you. Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.”
My response was a muffled snort. I didn’t kick him again, which was as close to agreement as he was going to get. It took longer than a second, but his presence beside me was comforting, even if my sweaty palms kept slipping. By the time I felt his arm hook firmly around the back of my knees, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to wait for his signal.
“Come on, Kitten, let go,” he said. “I’m going to try to keep you from tearing your skin against the rocks as you come down, okay?”
His grip on the wall didn’t seem terribly secure, but he had a hold of my legs, at least. Before I could make a conscious decision to let go, my left hand slid loose of its own volition, so I closed my eyes and let go with my right as well.
For a brief second, my body slid down along his and it seemed like we would make it out of this unscathed. Then the momentum caused Nico to lose his footing on the loose rocks. He tumbled backward even as he clutched me against the safety of his chest.
The impact of us both striking the forest floor forced the air from his lungs in an audible rush. I landed on top of him, my head bouncing hard against his sternum as we hit the ground, then I scrambled onto my knees beside him. He lay still as death, eyes closed.
Terror rocketed through me, stealing my breath.
“Oh shit,” I gasped, framing his face with my hands. “Shit, shit, shit. Please don’t be dead. Don’t be dead, Nico, open your eyes! Please, please don’t be dead.”
I released his face to run my hands over his skull, his arms, his ribcage, whispering the plea over and over until a harsh sob tore from my throat. Nico peeled his eyes open, caught my wrists in one hand, and tugged until I was sprawled across him once more. With a groan, he closed his eyes again.
“I appreciate your concern, Kitten, but I’m very much alive.”
Chapter Nine
Nico
Iexpectedhertorespondwith anger, to give me a taste of that fierce temper of hers, raging against me and my interference. What I didn’t expect was for her to start trembling in my arms, the shudders intensifying until her whole body was wracked with sobs as she clung to me.
My back hurt from the fall, but it was the ache in my chest that threatened to overwhelm me now. With soft, murmured reassurances, I wrapped my arms around her and held tight while her tears soaked into my shirt.
After a moment, I carefully sat up, swallowing a groan of pain as I drew her onto my lap and cradled her against my chest.
“Hey, it’s okay. We’re both okay,” I whispered, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “We’re okay, I promise.”
Tremors still ricocheted through her, but between the soothing words and the way she nuzzled her face into the pulse at my throat, the sobs seemed to have slowly worked their way out her system.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I just can’t . . .”
I waited for her to continue, but she simply shook her head and burrowed closer to me, so I prompted, “Can’t what?”
Silence stretched for so long, I was sure she wasn’t going to answer me.
“I lost you once, Nico, long before you even left. I can’t lose you again.”
Oh.Oh.
It hit me like a ton of bricks. She’d taken off from the cabin because she was worried aboutme?Risked getting lost in the middle of the woods formysake?I struggled to wrap my mind around it, even as thick curls of warmth wound their way through my chest.
“I’m right here,” I murmured against her ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You don’t understand,” she said dully, like the tears had washed all the emotion right out of her. “He’s dangerous. More dangerous than you can imagine.”
I swallowed my instinctive response, which was to assure her I could take care of myself, and instead tightened my arms around her limp frame and said, “I’ll be okay, Kitten.”
“You must have heard the stories,” she whispered.
Oh, I’d heard them. I’d even pursued a few of them, wondering if there was any way to leverage knowledge of a crime for the painting, but there was never any proof. At least, no proof that wasn’t already contained within the painting itself. Either the rumors were blown out of proportion, or Aidan Willoughby was a criminal mastermind.
I was inclined to believe the latter, which meant Kat was absolutely right.
“Please don’t risk your life for this.” Her voice broke on the plea, her body curling protectively into mine.
