Whispers in the Dark (KGI #4)(9)

He shook his head. It wasn’t a matter of what they could take. The Kellys were unshakable. He worried more about his own sanity and, if he did get back home, how much he would be changed.

You’ll go back home, Nathan. You have to believe that.

His pulse rocketed and he sat up. Relief made him weak. His hands shook and his knees wobbled. She was back.

I sent the email to your brother. It’s not a lot of information, though. Have you been able to think of anything else that might help them locate you sooner?

Nathan hunched over and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his chin on his knees. He hated that hope fluttered deep inside him. Like a coal in a dying fire that still had some heat left.

Nathan, talk to me. You can’t lose hope. You aren’t going to survive without hope. If you give up now, there’ll be nothing for your brothers to find.

Tell them…Goddamn it, I don’t know! I haven’t seen daylight in I don’t know when. I’ve been in this shit hole, and when I’m not here, they’re working me over in some dank, moldy room. I’m so damn disoriented most of the time that I have a hard time separating what’s real and what’s not.

Something clicked in his mind, and he closed his eyes for a moment as he brought back the image of them killing Taylor.

Cave. I’m in a f**king cave.

What hope he’d briefly entertained dwindled to nothing.

They’ll never find me here. There are caves all over these mountains.

Then you have to escape.

He tried to laugh but the sound came out as a harsh rasp. You make it sound so easy. Don’t you think I would have escaped already if I could? I’ve tried! God knows, I’ve tried.

You didn’t have me before.

The resoluteness of her words brought an abrupt halt to the pity train.

Do you have some other kind of powers? Besides being able to talk to me in my head and hear my thoughts?

Unfortunately no. But we’ll work with what we have.

I was being an ass. You’ve taken my pain and that’s no small thing. I don’t know how you do it or why, but I’m grateful. I don’t think I’ve ever even said thank you.

You’re hurting now.

It was on the tip of his tongue to deny it but then he realized the absurdity of denying what she already knew.

Before he could respond, warmth spread through him. To his very core. He couldn’t even describe the sensation of comfort sliding so deeply into his heart and mind. He wanted to tell her to stop, that he didn’t want her to hurt in his place, but he was overwhelmed and nearly shattered by the instant relief that swamped him.

And then he became aware of her huddled, wrapping her arms around her body, her soft moans sliding through his mind. Without thought as to how to accomplish it, he simply reached out, imagined holding her to offer the comfort she so selflessly offered him.

She went still, suddenly alert and wary. And then as if realizing who it was who held her, she relaxed.

He was immediately assailed by the feel and smell of her. Her scent drifted through his nostrils, a sharp and welcome contrast to the odor of sweat and blood and death.

The sensation of holding her was so keen that he closed his eyes and imagined himself in a place far away from his present reality.

She was warm in his arms, though she still trembled from the aftereffects of taking his pain. Her hair was soft against his cheek, and he rubbed up and down, feeling the tickle of the strands against his nose.

He inhaled sharply, taking in the scent of her shampoo. Honeysuckle danced through his nostrils, reminding him of summers in Tennessee.

Tell me about you. You said you were in trouble.

She tensed and he panicked, thinking that she would withdraw. His link to her had become the single most important thing in his existence.

Tell me anything, he hastily amended. Just talk to me. Who are you? How do you have this ability to talk to me, to take my pain and hear my thoughts?

She laughed softly. You don’t ask for much.

We can talk about anything. I just hate the silence.

He felt the soft explosion of air against his neck as she sighed.

I don’t know how or why I have the abilities I do. I’ve always had them, at least for as long as I can remember. My mother always knew I was different or so she said. She told me a story of when I was a toddler and she burned her hand cooking. She cried out and I grabbed her hand only wanting to take the pain from her.

She said I started to cry the longer I held her hand, and when she pulled it away I had an identical burn mark on my palm. She said her pain was completely gone but we both had a blister.

He went completely still as he grappled with what she’d just told him. Dread gathered in his gut. Are you telling me that when you take my pain from me, you actually take on the wounds as well?

She was quiet for a moment.

Tell me, he said fiercely.

What do you want me to say, Nathan? Yes, I take the pain and the marks or wounds, but it isn’t permanent. They don’t last as long as yours will. They often begin to fade within a few hours.

Son of a bitch. I don’t want you to do it anymore.

It’s my choice.

Why? Why, goddamn it? You don’t know me. I could be a complete ass**le. Why would you do something like that for me at such a risk to yourself?

Because you need me.

Because he needed her. It was an explanation he couldn’t even wrap his mind around. It was so simple and yet baffling. Did anyone ever just do for someone because they needed it? It wasn’t like she was helping a hungry child, or giving money to a homeless person. She was taking on unimaginable pain. Because she didn’t think he could bear it any longer.