How to Make a Sinner Sleep

118 | necklace; the punishment of living

In the small, enclosed cave, sounds echoed and rattled the scatter of thin bones. The sound of a punch, in particular, protruding knuckles slamming into muscle and bone, made a rather wonderful sound.

Niklas' face swerved sideways, coughing as blood residue from his previous cough dribbled out of his mouth.

Kaden huffed, green eyes blown wide as he drew his fist back, rubbing the reddened knuckles. It didn't hurt—not as much as Niklas' face likely did—but there was a dull throb of sensation pulsing in his fingers.

"I never asked," he said slowly, enunciating each brittle word. "To be saved."

Behind him, the dragon who'd watched the flow events in both surprise and contemplation blinked. He hadn't thought to stop Kaden, even if he could've, because it was no longer his discussion to participate in.

Holly's eyes wildly searched the pair, her hands hovering unsurely in the air. She looked up and Noah shook his head. Chewing on her bottom lip, she dragged an equally startled Arlo to where Noah stood, taking a spot by the rugged walls.

The elder spat out a huff of air and fell backward with raucous cackling, hooting as her scaled, inhumane legs kicked in the air.

Finally, a response came from the patient, seated on the ground with a splendid red hue on his cheek. "You never asked?" He wondered and in seconds, he was on his feet, lunging at Kaden.

 His hand struck out but Kaden dodged it coldly, and Niklas glared. "Don't dodge it?"

Kaden stepped back as another strike swept the air.

They were skilled movements but lacked the necessary strength to overpower a person like himself.

"What? Are you asking me to be hit?"

"Yes, you can't even complain because you hit me first! A thank you would've been preferred. Or a long time no see? Hello? You'd never ask to be saved because you don't think you're worth saving, goddamnit Kaden!"

This time, with a falter from Kaden, Niklas' strike connected with his jaw. Kaden's head jerked and from the sidelines, Noah's eyes narrowed darkly. Still, he did not move.

The two men collided, crashing into each other in a flurry of exchanged anger, irritation, and frustration.

Bruises speckled them both, deeper and in more variety across Niklas' body, but he hardly cared.

Kaden ran a bruised hand through his hair, breathing deeply. "Why would you do any of it, Niklas? Without asking me first."

"Because your answer would've been no," Niklas wheezed, squatting down. "And that isn't one I could accept if it meant giving up your life."

"I don't want to live by somebody's sacrifice—"

"Come on, Kaden. Do you hear yourself? Who was the one who left us all those years ago? I never asked for your protection—and even now, I don't want it!"

Kaden's eyebrows knitted together and he turned his head away—before having it roughly yanked back. Niklas tugged up his sleeves so they covered his hand, clutching Kaden's collar with the other.

"We watched you die, Kaden. Maybe I made a mistake in keeping you in the dark, maybe everything I've done is riddled with mistakes. But you died. You died, and there was nothing any of us could've done."

Niklas gasped, sliding down as Kaden bent to one knee to slow his fall. Instead, the two of them tumbled to the ground, groaning as their spines pressed into the scatter of bones.

He was speaking of regrets that transcended lifetimes, a regret much deeper and older than Kaden's execution three years prior.

Kaden lay there, pressed against bone and stone. "Niklas," he said slowly, chest falling and rising. "Who are you?"