Beast, page 16
I make a noise, hoping to startle her into making a move, but get no response. “Miss,” I whisper and wait. Still nothing. I watch her for the longest and swear I don’t see her chest move. Carefully, I come the rest of the way around and move to touch her. She doesn’t look like she’s been dead long, her face and throat are littered with red and pink splotches. It’s strange, could it be an island thing that I don’t know about?
I kneel at her side, my fingers grazing her wrist. It’s warm, so I’m right about her not being dead long. I can’t catch a heartbeat so I release her, sitting back to properly take her in. Surely she can’t be dead if she’s so red and splotchy, did she get stung by something that caused this, then her death?
I release a tense breath and move to stand, but there’s something about her making me question myself. Perhaps it’s her beauty? Her illusion of innocence? Who knows, but whatever it is, it draws me to try again. This time I reach for her throat, pushing my fingers to her skin with much more force. I calm my breathing, close my eyes, and concentrate.
I shuffle through my thoughts and feelings to finally weed out the movement coming from her flesh. There’s a pulse. It’s faint, but it’s there. Moving on autopilot, I adjust her body until she’s lying flat and tilt her head back. I wave Briar over and begin chest compressions. Depending on how long her body fights me, I may need to trade off with him.
While I count in my head, going through my training to save her life, I can’t help but take her form in. She’s utterly breathtaking. I can only imagine what she must look like in her prime. I wonder what happened to her? There’s no telling, out here so far away from society it could be anything. I push air into her over and over. Anyone else and I’d have given up at this point. My body burns, even though I work out for hours each day, I find myself growing slack. Silently I beg for any God or powerful being out there to give her another chance. To allow me to have a moment with her while she’s at her most vibrant.
My mouth is on hers when she gasps in my breath, her lids fluttering. I meet her cerulean gaze and carefully lie her head in my lap. I silently watch as she gasps for air, her hands clutch at her throat and the sight makes my chest ache.
“Breathe. Try not to panic,” I offer, not sure what else to do for her. Was she poisoned?
“Fuck,” Briar curses savagely beside me a beat later and digs into his cargo pocket. He thrusts something at me. “Here, use this. I think it’s an allergic reaction. Her throats swollen, so she can’t breathe. The splotches are hives.”
My brow scrunches but I do as he directs. I press the medication into her flesh and it begins it’s magic. The woman clutches to me, never breaking my gaze as I watch life blossom inside her once more. She really was dying and to witness life fill her once more is a miracle I’ll never forget for as long as I live.
“You’re okay,” I console. “We’re here and I won’t let you die. Not in my arms.” I foolishly promise. I don’t have that power, but I vow it regardless.
With a soft exhale she murmurs, “My prince,” Then she promptly passes back out. This time she’s breathing and owning every piece of my soul.
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Hilary Storm, Beast
