Chapter Seven
Killan
“My nemesis,” Lydia says, her back pressed to the rock wall and her gaze on the ladder. “We meet again.”
She has shrunk, her knees threatening to give way.
“You don’t have to come,” Harlee says, resting a hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “No pressure.”
Lydia jumps at the contact, as though some part of her thinks that Harlee will push her off the balcony. Apparently, Harlee said the wrong thing, too, because Lydia glares at her.
“If you don’t want my help, just say.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Harlee snatches her hand back.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Lydia shakes her head. “I’m scared, and I’m being an ass.”
“You’re not an ass. Did you want to climb down first or not…?” Harlee trails off, leaving space for Lydia to answer.
“I will go first,” Roan says instead. “Then Harlee.”
“So you can catch me if I fall?” Harlee laughs. “Babe, I’m not going to fall.”
“No one isfalling,” Lydia says and winces at the loudness of her voice. It carries across the cavern, echoing over the tree canopy. “I’ll go last. I’m going to be slow, and I don’t want to hold anyone up.”
“Sounds good.” Harlee follows Roan.
I watch, but they are confident and reach the ground easily.
Lydia gestures for me to go next.
I take a step toward her, indicating my intention to pick her up.
“Oh, fuck no.” She crouches, tucking her knees against her chest. Does she think that will stop me?
“Close your eyes,” I instruct.
“Or what? You’re not carrying me.”
“Yes, I am. We both know that I am, so let us get it done without another one of our arguments. I do not have time to waste today.”
“You couldn’t bear to touch me last night.” And her face flushes red.
“I was tired,” I growl, but how can I explain to her that it is infinitely harder ignoring the magnetic pull I feel toward her when I am exhausted? I cannot, and so I clench my jaw closed.
I watch as conflicting emotions cross her face. Fear, certainly. I am getting better at reading her signs of fear. Annoyance, too, mayhaps. Anger, always at me. And…I am not sure about the last one. Sadness? Resignation? “I’ve climbed down once before on my own.”
“I know.” When John Smith had given her no choice. When he had used the threat of not returning her home to force her to climb. And then he had left anyway, abandoning her here.
“And I could do it again,” she assures me, voice shaking.
“I know that also.”
As if satisfied, for once, with my answer, she slowly straightens. Her hands are on the wall behind her, her fingersdigging into the rock, for all that it is too smooth for her to grasp properly. She gives me one last look before closing her eyes.
I wrap her arms around my neck and lift so that her legs can encircle my waist. I have a hand on her hip and still have two hands free to climb. I think she can tell when I am about to step onto the first rung, for she presses her face into the crook of my throat and releases a shuddering breath. I can barely feel the air against my scales, but Icanfeel the speed at which her heart beats.
I should say something but can think of nothing.
