Beloved in His Eyes (Angel's Assassin #2)(39)

“I’m not leaving you.” It was a statement. He wasn’t going to leave her. Not now. Not ever.

Justina glanced at the water. Conflict swirled in the depths of her eyes. “You have to go, Gawyn.”

“I lost you once and I am not going through that again.”

Sympathy washed over her, and she shook her head, looking down. “Fine,” she growled. She stomped into the water another foot and stopped as it lapped at her knees. “I’ll drown then.”

He smiled warmly at her courage. “I won’t let you drown. You can hold onto me.” Again, he took her hand and tucked it beneath his arm. They moved deeper into the water. He felt Justina’s resistance, her stiffness and hesitancy, but she moved with him. “You can lock your arms around my shoulders. I’ll hold onto your wrist as I swim.”

“You know how to swim?”

They were waist deep in the water now. “I’m a very good swimmer,” Gawyn said softly. He continued forward, talking to her. “Your feet won’t touch the ground, but mine will. For a bit.”

Justina glanced across the water to the other side where Aurora stood near the edge, waiting for them. She grumbled. “Does she have to do everything perfectly?”

Gawyn chuckled a rich, throaty laugh. “I’m afraid she does.”

Justina stopped moving as the water lapped at her chest. She breathed quickly, eyeing the liquid around her with trepidation and fear.

“Are you ready?”

“No.”

Gawyn presented her with his back. His grip moved to her wrist. “Under my arms, clasp your hands around me by my chest. Lock them in front.” He leaned back slightly so she could do as he told her.

“Anything to get me to hug you,” she murmured sarcastically.

Gawyn could hear the tension in her voice. He pulled her against him. She reached around him with her other hand and locked hands tightly at his chest as if she were praying.

Gawyn straightened and she was on the tips of her toes. He pressed her arm against his chest. “Remember, I’ll be on my feet. You’ll be floating for a little. Ready?”

“Don’t let go.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. Terror ringed her large brown eyes. “Never,” he vowed. Then he moved forward as quickly as he could before she could change her mind. The water was up to his neck. “Just keep your head above water.” He launched himself forward and swam with one arm. He tried to keep her on his back, as he swam with one arm and kicks of his feet. He still held her arm against him. He was a strong swimmer and continued forward with strokes and kicks. Finally, his feet touched the ground and he walked forward until she was able to get her footing. Still, she didn’t release him for a long moment as he moved toward dry land. He looked back at her with a proud grin. But she rushed by him until her feet were on the dry earth.

“Don’t ever make me do that again,” she told him.

Gawyn nodded but made no such vow. He knew it might get worse. There was no entrance to the castle on this side. No sally port. He had hoped to find an underwater entrance. Somewhere the river entered the castle to get to the wells. But now, he doubted even that. The only other option was to try to move through the river to the other side and try to sneak to the sally port. Either way would be dangerous. Either way would require Justina to get in the water again. He moved over to where the river met the land of the castle, searching.

“Gawyn,” Aurora called.

Gawyn looked back at her. She was pointing to the side of the wall. Hanging from the wall was their salvation. A long piece of rope, barely visible by the naked eye. Gawyn began to smile.

Justina wouldn’t have to get in the water again after all.





Chapter 16


Damien sat in the Judgement Room. It was dark, but his eyes had adjusted, as had his body. He knelt before Aurora’s braid, his head hanging down, his chin against his chest. The beast was alive in him now, demanding more blood. Demanding revenge. He knew he had scared the servants enough, so they would not bother him anymore. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about them. He didn’t care about Acquitaine. She was gone.

He heard the door creak open behind him. His jaw clenched tight.

“Damien?”

Gawyn. He had wondered where his brother had gotten to. He wondered why he wasn’t there, trying to comfort him. He needed no comfort. Only death. “Get out,” he whispered. It was so silent that his voice echoed through the room.

Gawyn didn’t seem to notice. A torch flared to light behind Damien. He scowled at the light on the floor as if the touch of it would burn him.

“Damien?”

Always intrusive. Damien’s fists clenched tight. He wanted him gone. He wanted to be in darkness. He wanted to be cold and alone. She was gone. Some part deep inside of him was wailing and he couldn’t get it to stop unless he saw red. “Get out,” Damien said more firmly. The beast was hungry. Damien snarled, his lips curling over his teeth.

“Brother,” Gawyn began with a gentleness.

Damien whirled, his hands curved into clawed fists, his rage blinding him, his teeth bared. “GET OUT!”

Gawyn stood, holding a torch. He didn’t flinch at Damien’s tirade; he didn’t move.

The torchlight showered over her like beams of gold touching a goddess. For a moment, Damien froze. He didn’t even take a breath. He must be going mad. Slowly, his hands uncurled. His snarl evaporated. The beast howled inside of him, telling him to run, to hide. She couldn’t be real. He was going mad.