Page 89 of Bared

To her, locked doors only meant one thing.

The challenge to find open windows.

She wrested free from Brickham, frantically scanning every their immediate area. Nothing within a ten-meter radius got overlooked. She paced the path led by her gaze, letting her fingers glide over intricate statues, grand stone edifices, and even the wrought-iron gates that guarded many family crypts.

Iron gates…that should all be locked.

Except for the one that was not.

“What. On. Earth?” Or in this case, what was not on earth—like several members of the Aider family, their inscribed names lost to her in the deeper gloom of the vault. It was not as cavernous as others around the graveyard, but it was not the smallest. Like the bears’ house for Goldilocks, it was just right—at least for what they required of it. Aider. The family’s name even translated to assistance.

Thank you, divine Creator. And thank you, Aider family.

“Jayd?”

Brickham’s panicked husk made her realize how far inside the enclosure she had actually moved. Another blessing: the ornate iron gates were old but silent. Perhaps someone had recently oiled them and then forgotten to resnap the lock.

And thank you, negligent caretaker.

“Jayd? Goddammit!”

His demand, more a desperate croak, yanked her back out so she could flag him down. Though he sprinted over, his steps still barely ruffled the leaves—until he jolted to a stop in front of her and her new friends from the Aider family.

“What the f—”

More bellows and yells, courtesy of the Paris prefecture, drowned the rest of his charge. He would not get the luxury of repeating it. He did not look like he wanted to.

“Get in!” Jayd did not squander any moments either. As the words left her mouth, she shot out her hands and clamped his elbows.

And then frowned.

His arms…felt different.

Different to the point of strange.

Of course, every one of his magnificent muscles was still in place. The sculpted striations were still rugged and rippled beneath her grip. But they were lax as ropes, simply dangling at his side. Gone was the man’s patent vitality and discernible drive. For the first time since they met, there was no purpose in his stance or energy in his awareness.

“Brickham.”

He responded not. Finally, she had to shake him as hard as she could. The effort only succeeded in shifting him by an inch on the outside, though his head jerked, and his gaze flared.

“Did you hear me?” she exhorted. “I said get in. If we close the gate and stay still, perhaps they will pass right by and—”

“I heard you.” His interruption had her pausing again. Creator’s mercy, not a wise move, but she had no choice. Not when a violent tremor emanated from the center of his chest and took no prisoners as it coursed down his towering frame. For a heart-stopping second, she almost thought she would have to cushion him from a full faint. “I heard you, damn it,” he repeated from clenched teeth. “But I’m not getting in there.”

She hissed, unable to shield her flare of frustration—until it ignited into something more. An outright explosion, courtesy of her dawning comprehension.

He was not being obstinate.

He was gripped by full terror.

And very awful timing.

Because several menacing light beams swung even closer—grazing the leaves he had soundlessly rustled less than a minute ago.

Jayd swallowed her petrified gasp. And just like that, flung out the rest of her proper princess programming. Futile fretting had no place in this dire moment.

It was time for more explosions.