Page 5 of Martyr
Which cannot happen.
Not now, not ever.
I push her. Just to get her arms off me.
But the dock is icy, and her face immediately conveys her surprise. She slips, and she hits the water before I can stop her.
Fuck.
The fabric shoes issued by the center are the fucking worst. The walk here soaked mine, just as surely as they did hers, and all it did was make it easier for her to lose her balance.
Because I fuckingpushedher.
It’s freezing out—the water has to be worse.
Without waiting, I jump in after her.
Yep. Ice water surges over my head, and my muscles automatically lock up. This dock is meant for boats—it’s already deep here, a few yards from shore. I open my eyes in the dark water and force my body to move.
I angle down and kick, searching for the feel of her.
My fingers touch something soft. It slips through my grip.
Deeper still.
Finally, I feel her hair. Then her head, her neck. I grab her by the upper arms and surge for the surface. My lungs burn, my muscles scream. Everything in me needs to save her.
If she dies, Elora will never forgive me.
We breach the surface, and I hoist her into my arms. I angle her head so it’s propped on my shoulder.
Her skin is nearly blue. Instead of going for the dock and struggling to get her onto it, I swim us to shore. Drag her through the fresh snow until she’s out of it completely. I put myfingers to her throat. They’ve nearly gone numb, but her pulse taps at them.
Her heart beats.
I watch for the rise and fall of her chest, only to realize that there is none.
She’s not breathing.
I can almost hear Elora’s voice in my head saying,Mouth-to-mouth, idiot.
I pinch her nose and press my mouth to her cold lips. Another flash surfaces of kissing her so hard, my heart felt like it was going to explode.
The concussion is messing with me.
I blow into her mouth.
Once, then again.
Her body convulses, and water comes up her throat, out of her mouth. She coughs and gags, and I roll her onto her side. She expels the remaining water from her lungs.
But she’sblue.
And she doesn’t wake up.
Fuck.
I peel the wet coat off her—it’s probably the reason why she didn’t immediately surface. It’sheavy. She flops, completely unconscious, as I get her arms out. And then I lift her into my arms.
