Page 105 of Enchanted Kisses
I groaned. “Once more,” I told myself. “I can do this.”
The ax was harder to lift this time. My arms felt like wet noodles, and I barely got it onto my sore shoulder. With the ax in position, I released a breath, focused on the lock, imagined myself smashing it open, and swung.
Another firecracker blast erupted through the tunnels. I cringed, waiting for someone to yell, horns to blow, or hundreds of feet to stomp in my direction.
Nothing.
To my surprise, the lock lay broken on the floor.
I dropped the ax’s wooden shaft, its metal head already resting on the ground, and pushed on the door. It wouldn’t open.
I tried again. It shifted but caught, like it was blocked from the inside. Using myothershoulder, I slammed into the door. It moved a little, but now both shoulders ached. With my hands out in front of me, I stepped back and charged the door. My elbows bent the second my palms slapped the wood frame, my body crashing into it after. The door held, and I stumbled backward.
I could barely catch my breath, yet rage boiled deep within. Giving up wasn’t an option, but I needed a second to regain my strength. At the door, I rested my head against the frame. It swung open. I fell forward and threw out my hands at the last second to keep from smacking into the gritty stone floors. Dust puffed around my face.
I was in. I couldn’t believe it.
Coughing, I jumped to my feet and ran to the cot. I gaped in shock at the sight of Caiden’s wounded body. I didn’t know where to touch him, or if I should. Whip marks slashed his back and legs, and the skin on his arms looked like toast. I checked his hands. All fingers were bent backward.
My breath hitched.
I leaned over his torso to see his chest. What was left of his torn shirt looked like a dirty rag. Lashes cut across his upper body. I whimpered again, unable to tell if he was even breathing.
A sigh of agony escaped my lips as tears burned my eyes. With a shaky hand, I wiped my nose and urged myself to keep it together. Caiden needed my help.
Not wanting to touch or move him, I went to the end of the cot. I gripped the metal frame and shoved it from the wall. Metal scuffed across the floor, the squeaking sound drawing goose bumps to my arms. I stared at the door, fearful someone heard.
After a few seconds, I turned back to Caiden and squeezed between the wall and his cot, wishing I’d moved it out farther.
Stone chafed my back as I inched to Caiden, moving until I was near his upper body and head. I lowered onto my knees. Purple and black colored the skin around his eyes, and his face and lips were swollen.
Barely touching him, I brushed his hair from his forehead. “Caiden?”
His eyes opened slowly to me. “I’m dreaming again,” he whispered. A cough and wince of pain followed.
“Shh, don’t talk.” I fought back tears and spoke with tender reassurance. “I’m going to fix you. Okay? I’m going to heal you.” I placed gentle hands on his arm and chest, and strived to call forth my powers.
He winced, and my attention shifted to him.
I closed my eyes again and tried to focus. I couldn’t think. When picturing him in my mind, all I saw was his burnt, maimed body. No heat stirred beneath my skin. No energy thrummed inside me. My hands shook, and he winced again. I pulled them away, tears soaking my cheeks.
Stop it and focus.Yes, I was trapped in a horrible, monstrous dream that seemed incredibly real, but I needed to stay calm. I needed to heal Caiden, and then I’d wake up. I knew it.
Calmer and breathing slower, I closed my eyes and pictured Caiden in my mind. This time I saw him standing before me, his skin healed and glistening with gold. I envisioned his bright eyes staring back at me and a peaceful expression on his face. In my mind, he was free of pain and of the mental, emotional, and physical trauma he’d endured. A small amount of heat tingled at the tips of my fingers. It was nothing like I’d experienced before and wouldn’t be enough energy to heal him.
He moaned with pain.
I wanted to scream, throw something, rip hair from my head. Why was I given powers I couldn’t control? What good were they if they didn’t work when I needed them?
I sniffled, wiped tears from my cheeks, and tried again. I imagined Caiden just as I had a moment ago. No heat this time. Nothing. I cupped my hands over my face and bit back a scream.
“Water,” Caiden murmured, his voice hoarse and weak.
“Water. Yes. I’ll get it.” I slid out enough to stand and grabbed the cup on the table. It had water.Good.Quickly, I lowered to my knees and scooted to Caiden’s head. My jeans snagged on the cot and a broken piece of wire sliced through my skin. Blood seeped from the stinging cut. I pressed on it with one hand and used the other to offer Caiden water, but he couldn’t lift his head to drink.
I slipped my now bloody hand under his cheek and lifted his head while using the other to move the cup to his dry, cracked lips.
He took a few sips.
