The Best Man: Part Two by Lola Carson Read Free Book Online

unmoving, as if doing so will render him invisible; then the footsteps draw closer before coming to a sudden stop. He doesn’t know where this person is, and the cold is seeping into his bones, and terror is rising within him like a tide.
    He can’t stop the shout from bursting out of his mouth when something thunks onto his head from above. He hisses as pain blossoms, feels what could be the dent of broken skin beginning to seep blood instantly, and the thing that hit him rolls away on the ground before resting in the corner of this cage.
    He squints through the darkness, frowning when he realises what the thing is.
    It’s a coin. A single, perfectly rounded coin.
    He’s barely made the discovery before another one hits the top of his head like a leaded weight and he grunts with the pain, trying to duck away from it. The second coin rolls off him and in the opposite direction, and then another hits his head, and then another, and then they start falling like rain all over him and around him, breaking his skin and catching painfully against bone.
    He cries out against the storm of it, hundreds of these gold and silver coins thundering down around him, tries to curl into a ball and duck his head in and beg for it to end—only he can’t speak. He can shout and he can scream but he can't say words. Each time he tries to say stop or please or no , it’s as though something solid and invisible compresses his tongue, choking him.
    A sudden pinpoint of light catches his eye and he stares at it like a lifeline. It’s a light coming from nowhere, and it’s settled on one single spot a metre away from this cage. The light is there to show Noah a key, the key to this cage, the most beautiful key he has ever seen, and he sobs for it and pulls on the rope tying his arms but he can’t get it, this perfect key he wants so much, more than anything else in all of existence—he can’t get it, because he’s trapped in this cage, and his hands are tied, and there’s something stopping him from speaking, and all around him coins fall like a stampede, filling this cage, drowning him in gold—
    “Noah!”
    Noah comes into consciousness all at once and the relief that floods him is so powerful he can’t contain it. He reaches out blindly and grabs hold of the arm shaking him awake, pulls on it as he half sits and half collapses against a solid chest, buries his face in the curve of shoulder and neck. He’s being surrounded by the strong arms of protection and he breathes against warm skin, shaking, willing the terror of his nightmare away.
    “You okay?”
    The voice in his ear is not Connor’s. It's the warm timbre of Patrick’s murmur and he should pull away now but he doesn’t, not yet, just a few more moments.
    “Hey,” says Patrick, and he’s smoothing a hand up and down Noah’s back, rubbing the relief of reality into his skin, his scent here in the curve of his neck washing through Noah’s senses like a cleansing tonic.
    When his heart rate returns to something resembling normal, he pulls back, looks into Patrick’s face. Embarrassment edges at him but he ignores it. He’s had a nightmare, and Patrick’s awoken him. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.
    Patrick’s sitting on the edge of the couch beside him, facing him, and he looks concerned. He raises a hand and drags it through Noah’s hair before settling it on the back of his neck as if needing the anchor.
    “You okay?” he repeats, searching Noah’s eyes for the truth.
    He’s so close that Noah can count his every eyelash.
    “Yeah,” he croaks. He scrubs both hands over his face, brushes away the last remnants of sleep. “Sorry.”
    “No need for sorry.” Patrick releases him, but he doesn’t immediately get up. “Bad dream?”
    Noah nods. “Dunno what it was about really.” The images are fading rapidly, slipping through his memory like water. He remembers fear, and pain, and the most beautiful light just out of reach. “Didn't mean to get you