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I could probably identify the other two the same way, but my mind has spotted his pattern without me trying.
He’s here now. My whole body relaxes when he’s here with me.
As he stands close to the bed, he takes my hand and he talks to me. He tells me about the sky and the weather, what the temperature is and the precipitation. Sometimes he mentions the height of waves or the wind-chill.
Often he’ll talk about the flowers and trees. Occasional whale sightings and local bird life get a mention. The tone of his voice tells me that most of these are things he’s studied up on, details he’s gotten from the media. The way he gives me details, they don’t sound like subjects that are close to his heart.
He’s making an effort to engage me, to try and lure me out of the cave I’m in. So I wonder why he doesn’t use my name. Or any names of people I know.
Perhaps he doesn’t know me very well. Maybe these men don’t know me at all. They must have had powerful reasons for kidnapping me. Am I a hostage, held for ransom?
All this medical equipment can’t have come cheap, not to mention the frequent visits from the doctor.
The Warrior is describing two kinds of chickadees and a flock of bushtits. All the while, I’m feeling safe and relaxed with him near. So I hold my breath.
He makes some kind of a gag about bushes and tits. Comic timing is not his strong suit, but I love him for trying. All the more since he’s so obviously awful at it. He waits to see if he gets a reaction from me. Of course, he doesn’t and he chuckles to himself. Even if his jokes are no good, his laugh is deep and warm.
My breath still holds easily. My count is twenty two beeps.
Twenty-four. He’s on to telling me about the probability of rain.
Twenty six.
My chest heaves, sucking air in deep. My chest rises. I feel my head go back and my mouth opens.
He comes close. Leans over. The scent of his breath makes me want to breathe in some more.
“What’s happened?” he puts his hand on my chest and says, “Are you okay?”
And still I’m holding. But my chest trembles. Shakes under his hand.
“What’s going on?” His voice rises in pitch. “What are you doing, Angel?”
Then, “Breathe. Comeon!” His head turns away as he shouts, “Come here! Quick. Something’s happened.”
There’s no sound.
He presses down on my chest. Something stirs, deep in my core. Nerves spark into life. I’m still holding.
“Breathe, Angel! For fuck’s sake, what are you doing?BREATHE!”
CHAPTER FOUR
My back is arched, my head is back, and my mouth is open. Breath held. A high-pitched hiss starts up in my ears and I’m beginning to feel dizzy. He presses some more. Oh, that feels so good.
His mouth comes closer. I feel the movement in his lips as he shapes them to match and meet mine. The hot, strong softness of his mouth closes over mine and seals us together.
Breathing air into me, or trying to. Forcing, pushing as much as he can. My lungs are already full. I’m as stiff as a board. I want to press and move my lips back against his, but I can’t. Not the tiniest amount. I’m still. Helpless.
He takes his mouth away and presses down on my chest again. My body is still rigid. His breath rises and shortens.
His mouth clamps down on mine again. Harder this time. Forcefully, he tries to breathe into me. I can feel the resistance. The taste of his lips is too wonderful, though. I don’t want this to ever stop. My head begins to swim.
As he tries to exhale more into me. I want his breath, but I have no room. Nothing happens. In desperation, confused and panicking, he takes a long breath in.
His body leans into mine as the air leaves me and flows back into him. My body sinks back under his weight. He presses into me and I don’t think I can ever have wanted anything as much as I want him right now.
The long, moaning sigh is so deep it’s impossible to tell if it came from me or from him. I think it’s both of us, because it sounds more like a harmony than a single note.
