How to Make a Sinner Sleep

55 | mistake; a touch that rots

Niklas, with his brain full of plot twists and dramatic scenes, hurried over with the intuition of a dog. His stomach—ever so reliable—told him there was something important occurring in the silence between his two friends!

Both heads turned to his loud approach. Kaden gestured directly. "Niklas. What sort of plot can you create from this painting?"

"Hey, now. The story teller isn't me, it's Noah." Seeing the dragon glance over, Niklas grinned. "C'mon, you might not have whispered it into my ears like with Kaden, but I pay enough attention."

"I didn't say anything."

"Oh, but the look in your eyes told me all I needed to know!"

Noah suddenly felt that he could really understand how Kaden and Niklas got along. They were both fantastic at spouting nonsense at times.

"Anyway," smiled Niklas casually, waving his hand as he crouched and squinted. "For a painting, obviously, the first step is to either turn the painting around, or break the glass to reveal a hidden message inside!"

"We will not be breaking somebody's belonging's to satisfy our own curiosity."

Kaden shook his head, crouching beside as the pair attempted to lift the heavy frame. He'd barely strained his muscles before spinning his head. One human and one dragon gazed at each other quietly.

Noah felt as if it would be wise to look away.

Before he could, Kaden implored the spectating dragon, "Bellamy. Help us lift this, please."

"...the two of you are enough."

"Unfortunately, my meager strength cannot compare to your overwhelming genetics—"

"You aren't weak."

"I was referring to my ability to work hard. It's too much effort."

Noah stared at him in disbelief, debating whether he should bring up the neat study notes that Kaden made a religious habit in class. Not to mention, the discomfort whenever Kaden spoke lowly of himself.

To others, it appeared as a joke. Only a few knew that Kaden was often serious in his self-deprecation.

"Come, now, princess!" cheere Niklas noisily. "I believe in your perseverance!"

Kaden, who had been tentatively trying to pull at the frame, lowered his eyes to Niklas' hands that were clearly touching the painting, but not exerting any strength. In other words, he was only pretending to help.

"If I'm the princess," said Kaden in a flat voice. "And Bellamy's the dragon, does that make you the hero? Then go on, hero,  lift it." His smile was a little vicious. "I believe in you."

The frame that had been slightly lifted was released, and Niklas gasped, forced to use his strength to prevent his fingers from being crushed.

"I'm hurt by your cruelty. These fingers of mine are important."

Kaden sneered. "In what way?"

Niklas wriggled his fingers obscenely. "Do you really want to know?"

Kaden glared with evident disgust, and Niklas laughed out loud. He wasn't really offended by Kaden's actions—Kaden, that fool, still hovered his hand nearby in case Niklas really wasn't able to catch it.

"Well, lifting this away completely is only waiting for disaster. Wait. I think I can wriggle my fingers behind this gap..." Niklas twisted his body in a funny angle, stretching his arm behind the painting.

He groped at the back, his face paling as tendrils of what was likely cobwebs wrapped and stuck to his fingers.

Kaden squatted beside him, frowning. "What is it?"