Page 122 of Claim Me
I focus on the next step, not the number on the wall.
Just the next step.
"You’re slowing," Blue observes. "You should rest."
"Still moving," I answer.
"That wasn’t a criticism. Your heart is pounding."
"It’s only because you’re so close."
A quiet exhale brushes against the side of my neck, almost like a restrained huff, but he doesn’t comment.
I keep going. Fifty.
Time stretches strangely in the stairwell. The repetition erases any clear sense of progress, and the only thing that marks it is the growing strain in my body. My steps are more forceful now, the impact of my feet louder.
I stop again at fifty-eight, this time for a few seconds, leaning forward slightly with my hands braced on my thighs while still holding him.
My breathing is loud in the confined space.
"Gabriel."
"I’m fine," I cut in before he can finish.
There’s a brief silence.
"…You don’t have to prove anything," he says, quieter now.
I straighten slowly, tightening my hold on him again.
"I want to do it for you."
And then it happens. I can sense his soft movement, his hand rising, sliding along my shoulder, up to my neck, brushing over my neck gland, which makes me shiver, and then coming to rest on my cheek in a gentle, warm stroke.
Wow.
A strange energy moves through me, a delightful, pleasant wave, something close to bliss.
"Thank you," I whisper, suddenly feeling like I could move mountains.
For a second, something else rises beneath it, something potent that feels like a sweet booster.
Then I push off again.
Sixty-three.
Every step takes immense effort, but I somehow keep going. My legs feel slower to respond, and I have to force the rhythm, keep it from falling apart. My grip slips once, and I correct it immediately, pulling Blue closer, locking him in place again.
His hand curls slightly around my neck, not restricting my breathing, just there, grounding.
"Almost there," he whispers softly, and it doesn’t sound like an estimate. It sounds like he’s giving me something to hold on to.
Seventy-two.
The numbers start to matter again.
Each one is something solid, something finite.
