Page 59 of Taste of Death

Dozens of scenarios ran through my mind. Thorne did something, threatened her maybe. Maybe he sent her over here to end our friendship for good. The cruel fucking bastard, I’d kill him for this.

Finally, Amy’s eyes focused. She blinked as dark tears started to fill her eyes. Her brow pinched with tension and her jaw clenched, lips wobbling like she was holding back a tidal wave of emotion.

“Novak?”

The pain in her voice broke my heart and fired me up with rage. “Yes, I’m here.” A tear began to spill from one of her eyes, but I caught it with my thumb. “Please, you’re killing me. What’s wrong?”

My questioning seemed to make everything worse. Her eyes squeezed shut, spilling more tears as a great, gasping sob wracked her whole body.

Alarm and confusion rang through me. Amy took my hands away from her face, turning away like she didn’t want me to see her, so I pulled her back into my chest. She cried into the privacy of my shirt, the muffled sounds breaking off pieces of my heart one by one. My lips rested against her hairline as I held her, just listening to her sobs as my mind ran wild.

This was so much worse than that first day we met. Back then, Amy didn’t know how to cope with her second chance at life. Right now, she was so deeply wounded that she probably felt like she was dying again.

I held the back of her head with one hand, the other running up and down her back. Lourna entered the foyer, looking just as worried as I felt. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when I shook my head. Amy needed to feel safe to process whatever happened. For some reason she trusted me, and she didn’t need an audience.

“Going upstairs,” I mouthed to Lourna before leaning down to whisper in Amy’s ear. “I’m going to pick you up.”

Amy barely had to move. I just crouched low and scooped her up behind her knees, then took the stairs slowly to not jostle her. She curled up small against my chest, her sobs quieting, though her breaths were ragged and distressed.

On the second floor, I passed the guest room and took her directly to my bedroom suite. The window shutters had closed with the onset of dawn so the room was already dark. After kicking off my shoes, I sat on the edge of my bed and turned to lie on my side with Amy still in my arms.

“I’m sorry… ” Her voice was so small and choked with tears.

“Shush. Don’t be.” I pulled her close, bringing her face to my chest to cry there if she needed to. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Whoever made you feel this way is the one who should be fucking sorry.”

Her body shook with more sobs and hiccupping breaths, but she clung to me like a lifeline. Despair thrashed wildly inside me. I was desperate to know who hurt her this badly, but wouldn’t push her to talk until she was ready.

I stroked her back, her hair, her cheek. My touch seemed to soothe her even if my words didn’t. The crying seemed to come in waves, slowing for a time before starting up again. I didn’t know what else to do besides hold her through it. What I would give to know what she was thinking so I could fix all the hurt.

After some time, she quieted again, pulling in deep, shuddering breaths. I didn’t know if all the crying had exhausted her or she had truly exorcised what had caused her so much pain. Whichever the case, I was content to hold her in the dark. It was surely daytime now, but the lack of light in the room gave the illusion of night. Fatigue made me drowsy, but I would not leave her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked after a long stretch of silence.

Amy sighed and the air from her mouth felt like a caress against my throat.

“It’s stupid,” she said quietly.

“Don’t do that.” My lips brushed her forehead and before I could overthink it, I pressed a kiss there.

“Do what?”

“Reduce your pain to that word. What you’re feeling isn’t stupid, it’s important.”

She let out a dry huff. “Important? Me?”

“Yes, you.” I drew back to see her face clearly. Those galaxy eyes were puffy and tinged with red, the dark tear tracks on her cheeks like watered-down ink. “You’re important to me.”

“Why?” The word came out as barely a whisper. Her mouth formed the word and her bottom lip began to tremble like she was about to cry again. She genuinely didn’t know why and that baffled me.

“Because you’re strong, curious, and brave. You’re so honest and forthcoming. You’ve dealt with your own life and death with so much grace and maturity.”

She laughed bitterly. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“I don’t.” I brought her face closer and let another kiss linger on her forehead while I gathered the nerve for what I’d say next. “And you’re so achingly beautiful, even when you’re sad.”

Amy went eerily still for a moment before shoving against my chest, creating distance between us. “Don’t lie about stuff like that. It’s cruel.”

“What?” I’d struck a nerve, clearly. She was crying again as she shoved me away, but I held onto her straightened and locked arms. “Amy, I’m not lying.”

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