Avenged (Altered #2)(34)

She kept up the litany, more determined than ever to get through to him.

After the longest minutes of her life, his breathing became more regular, if still labored.

He was fighting again. She could hardly think around her relief.

Kitty sat there on the floor next to him for a long time, coaxing him along. You can’t give up. It’s almost over. You have to fight.

She bullied and cajoled, did anything she could to get him to keep going. The minutes stretched on, taut and pregnant with her fear.

She counted his breaths with her eyes closed…praying.

She hadn’t always bought into her parents’ religious ideals. Her mom had been raised Catholic but when she’d met Kitty’s father, she’d renounced her own faith to be with Kitty’s dad. When Kitty was a girl, she remembered attending a non-denominational, fellowship-based faith community. One day, her father had decided that church was being corrupted by the outside world, and he’d abruptly moved their family away from civilization.

Luckily, her father had allowed her to go to school in Raton. She didn’t know what she’d have done if she’d had to be homeschooled…alone in that tiny house with her parents without any respite.

Religion had always been a huge part of their lives. They prayed every day, read the Bible together. Yet while Kitty read a fairly forgiving and loving God in the New Testament, her father tended to quote the more unyielding aspects of the Old Book. If she or her mother didn’t follow his rules, he would twist the Bible to prove he was right.

It had soured her.

But today, as she wrapped her arms around Nick’s shaking body, she prayed.

Apparently, someone somewhere had heard her.

Slowly, so slowly, his thoughts made more sense. People returned to his memories, their faces becoming clearer. She sat beside him on the floor in front of that toilet, rubbing his back, coaxing and cajoling, even outright threatening him. Anything to keep him from giving up.

When he rolled and called her name, she made him sip water from the cup on a chain at their sink. She stroked his hair, telling him the things she’d never have said if he’d been lucid.

Like how afraid she was. Like how much she’d come to care about him in the past week.

Finally, when her shoulders sagged with exhaustion and her back ached and she wanted to cry with the strain of it all, she pulled and tugged his limp body to the cot. He was either semi-lucid or he followed her instructions instinctively because his limbs weren’t as heavy as she expected, and she got him onto the cot.

She curled against him, holding him as the pain receded.

His body stilled. He opened his eyes and sat up.

He was alive. He’d made it.

Kitty didn’t hesitate. She threw herself at him.

He caught her against him with a soft oomph. His arms circled her, and she held on tight. He shushed her, and only then did she realize she’d been crying.

That’s when she got mad.

“You stupid, stupid idiot.” Her voice cracked, full of tears. “You have no idea what you put me through.”

“I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry.” He dropped his head and kissed her shoulder. While he might be sorry, mostly he was thinking about how she felt in his lap.

“I was scared to death. Have you any idea what that was like?” She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

“It wasn’t much fun on my end, either, if it makes you feel any better.” She could hear the grin in his voice, and she pulled back to glare at him.

“Well, it doesn’t make me feel better.” She scowled. He looked perfectly fit, as healthy and strong as ever. Certainly not like he spent the last twelve hours throwing up, wanting to stop living.

The memory of that was still too fresh in her mind.

He sobered, sensing her seriousness. “I’m fine. I swear. And I won’t do it again. I promise.”

“That’s right. You won’t.” She cocked her head, studying him. “You made it. You’re changed.”

He dropped his arms, but didn’t let go of her completely. Her hands rested on his shoulders, his splayed across the small of her back. She stared up into his dark eyes as uncertainty played through his mind. “Do you think? That I’m changed?”

She took a deep breath. They better find out. Kenny would be back tomorrow. “Well, can you hear what I’m thinking?”

She filled her head with thoughts of him, of how much she liked his mouth, of how the V of his broad shoulders and narrow hips was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

His brow creased. “I don’t think so. What are you thinking about?”

“Trust me, you’d know.” She grinned, amazed how good it felt after the strain of the past day.

“Oh yeah?” The corner of his mouth tilted up. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “I’d like to hear more about that.”

In the face of his teasing, her face heated. She looked down. Her hands were still on his shoulders, and her leg was draped over him. She was practically lying on him.

Like a hussy, as her mother always warned.

She dropped her hands and her gaze. She’d thrown herself at him. She stared at her fingers, worrying them, as the tips of her ears felt like they were on fire.

“Oh no, you don’t.” He scooted closer, folding her against his chest. He tucked her head under his chin. “I have no idea what just played through your mind, but I don’t like it one bit.”