Page 106 of Ex Somnis

Nevan jumps.

I throw my body forward as a strangled “no” leaves me. My hand closes around his wrist, and his momentum pulls me into the windowsill after him.

My stomach slams into the frame hard enough that I’m instantly nauseous, but I catch myself against it with my free hand to bring us to a stop.

Then he’s hanging three stories above concrete with nothing between him and the ground except my grip.

Nevan hangs there, all dead weight, while every muscle in my body screams in protest.

“Nevan!” My voice doesn’t sound like mine anymore. “Nevan, wake up!”

Two hundred and thirty pounds of unconscious man suspended over empty space somehow gets even heavier, like an invisible force is pulling him from below.

My hand slips half an inch.

No.

No.

I tighten my grip on him, on the windowsill, until I can’t even feel it anymore.

“Nevan, wake up! Wake up right now!”

I can feel the strain running through my shoulder, back, and arm. I know exactly how much force is being placed on every joint involved, and how long I might be able to hold this until the adrenaline leaves me too weak.

The calculations aren’t encouraging.

My grip slips again, only a fraction, but enough to know that I’m losing.

If I let go of his hand, I will never be able to look into Lennon’s beautiful eyes again.

“Nevan!” His name tears out of me. “Wake the fuck up!”

His body jerks, and for a horrible moment, I think he’s going to slip out of my grip. But then his eyes snap open, and it only takes him a split second to realize he’s woken somewhere he shouldn’t be.

This phenomenon is not at all new for him, but it’s certainly the first time it has been seconds from killing him.

His entire body convulses in panic, and the sudden movement nearly rips his arm from my grasp.

“Paul,” he chokes out, eyes wild as he looks up at me, pleading with me to fix it.

“Grab the sill! Grab the fucking sill.”

Nevan looks down instead, and he jerks violently when he sees the drop below. “Paul!”

“Look at me.”

His eyes jerk back to mine, his face white as a sheet.

“Good,” I say around a heavy breath. “Good, keep looking at me. Reach up. The sill is right there.”

He tries to do as I say, but fumbles through empty air and misses, and my shoulder gives a violent throb.

Fuck.

“Again, Nevan. Try again.”

He does, and when his fingers scrape stone, the relief hits so hard it almost makes me dizzy.