for the door. He would grab her before she even took one step in her sprint to freedom. Even then, there would be no place to go with the gate locked. She needed to buy her time until someone came to her rescue. Again.
Keeping her eyes to the floor, she pushed herself up onto her knees. Her nightgown had ridden up around her waist. Her attempt to keep herself covered wasn’t going to work out. Worse yet, it was cold and her nipples were standing out like small peaks against the thin fabric. She hated feeling vulnerable, but she was willing to sacrifice a little pride and modesty for getting out of this alive.
She had traction to move away from him, but she remained there frozen at odds with preserving her life and helping a god who had been tortured for five long miserable years. In all the long hours she had spent with him in this cell, she felt tied to the god. She had been feeding a minute part of her soul to him, nurturing him to health. Caring for him. And, for how crazy as it sounded, she couldn’t abandon him. Taking a resigned breath, she tore her gaze from the gate to her capturer. His eyes were closed at the moment, but the grimace on his face was unmistakable.
Severe pain.
Her heart bled for him in that moment, knowing how cruel Kepi had been. The scars on his body were inflicted by poisonous scorpions that had been placed in the sarcophagus with him. Thousands of shriveled scorpion carcasses had scattered across the floor when the sarcophagus toppled over. The venom would cause excruciating pain for any god, rendering him powerless and with no escape.
She shook her head at the atrocity of his confinement. He would heal. He was a god after all, but it was the injury to his soul and spirit, that he may never recover. She suppressed the instinct to reach out to him. One wrong move would get her killed, but every cell in her body screamed out to comfort and care for him.
Against her better judgment she inched forward, her hand outstretched. Her fingertips gently touched his forehead and followed his hairline to his jaw, the same way her father use to calm her. “Shh… It’s going to be okay.”
His eyelids fluttered at the contact, but he remained still. Repeating the motion, she watched his features for any indication he would attack. His face remained bunched in a ball of agony. He appeared to be in some self-induced trance, possibly his only means to escape the misery, otherwise he would never allow her to touch him.
Ignoring the pain of her knees against the stone, she continued to trace the same pattern over and over, daring to make more surface contact with each pass. Within minutes she was using both hands to trace his forehead to the tip of jaw on both sides. With each caress, his tension faded and loosened the tight lines of his face. She wasn’t sure how long she performed the little move, but in the end his arms hung flaccid at his sides, and his face had softened.
With the quiver of her biceps, Kendra took a deep breath and slowly lowered her hands. Before she could exhale, he grabbed her wrists.
Confronted by his hard silver pupils, she blurted out, “I’m sorry. I wanted to help. Sorry. Sorry.” Unable to suppress the squeal that escaped her throat, she panicked and yanked her arms wildly to free her wrists. Whatever control she had over her fear, unraveled in an instance.
“Let me go!” Her knees scraped against the rough hard stone in her attempts to free herself. “No!”
Somewhere in her struggles he let her go. In her panic she tripped over books and scattered them across the floor. On her hands and knees she scurried to the farthest wall and curled up in a ball with her nightgown pulled over her knees. With her hands pressed to her face, she sobbed.
A low moan reverberated through the air. Bakari fisted his hands into his hair and rocked on his heels like a tightly coiled spring. All the work she had done—gone because of her fit of terror. Angry with herself, she took
Keeping her eyes to the floor, she pushed herself up onto her knees. Her nightgown had ridden up around her waist. Her attempt to keep herself covered wasn’t going to work out. Worse yet, it was cold and her nipples were standing out like small peaks against the thin fabric. She hated feeling vulnerable, but she was willing to sacrifice a little pride and modesty for getting out of this alive.
She had traction to move away from him, but she remained there frozen at odds with preserving her life and helping a god who had been tortured for five long miserable years. In all the long hours she had spent with him in this cell, she felt tied to the god. She had been feeding a minute part of her soul to him, nurturing him to health. Caring for him. And, for how crazy as it sounded, she couldn’t abandon him. Taking a resigned breath, she tore her gaze from the gate to her capturer. His eyes were closed at the moment, but the grimace on his face was unmistakable.
Severe pain.
Her heart bled for him in that moment, knowing how cruel Kepi had been. The scars on his body were inflicted by poisonous scorpions that had been placed in the sarcophagus with him. Thousands of shriveled scorpion carcasses had scattered across the floor when the sarcophagus toppled over. The venom would cause excruciating pain for any god, rendering him powerless and with no escape.
She shook her head at the atrocity of his confinement. He would heal. He was a god after all, but it was the injury to his soul and spirit, that he may never recover. She suppressed the instinct to reach out to him. One wrong move would get her killed, but every cell in her body screamed out to comfort and care for him.
Against her better judgment she inched forward, her hand outstretched. Her fingertips gently touched his forehead and followed his hairline to his jaw, the same way her father use to calm her. “Shh… It’s going to be okay.”
His eyelids fluttered at the contact, but he remained still. Repeating the motion, she watched his features for any indication he would attack. His face remained bunched in a ball of agony. He appeared to be in some self-induced trance, possibly his only means to escape the misery, otherwise he would never allow her to touch him.
Ignoring the pain of her knees against the stone, she continued to trace the same pattern over and over, daring to make more surface contact with each pass. Within minutes she was using both hands to trace his forehead to the tip of jaw on both sides. With each caress, his tension faded and loosened the tight lines of his face. She wasn’t sure how long she performed the little move, but in the end his arms hung flaccid at his sides, and his face had softened.
With the quiver of her biceps, Kendra took a deep breath and slowly lowered her hands. Before she could exhale, he grabbed her wrists.
Confronted by his hard silver pupils, she blurted out, “I’m sorry. I wanted to help. Sorry. Sorry.” Unable to suppress the squeal that escaped her throat, she panicked and yanked her arms wildly to free her wrists. Whatever control she had over her fear, unraveled in an instance.
“Let me go!” Her knees scraped against the rough hard stone in her attempts to free herself. “No!”
Somewhere in her struggles he let her go. In her panic she tripped over books and scattered them across the floor. On her hands and knees she scurried to the farthest wall and curled up in a ball with her nightgown pulled over her knees. With her hands pressed to her face, she sobbed.
A low moan reverberated through the air. Bakari fisted his hands into his hair and rocked on his heels like a tightly coiled spring. All the work she had done—gone because of her fit of terror. Angry with herself, she took
Similar Books
