Page 39 of Vicious Luna
The closer we get to that small, windowless room, the faster my pulse races. My throat tightens when I step into the doorway and am reminded just how tiny the room really is, and I almost stop breathing altogether when Cam nudges me forward, releasing my wrists and backing up.
“Here,” he mumbles, thrusting the towel, clothes, andbrush in my direction as he stands in the doorway, his hulking build eating up most of the space and blocking any chance for escape. “Make it quick, I’ll wait out here.”
“Wha... bu… you mean you’re not coming in?” I stutter, my hands closing tighter around the fabric of the towel at the bottom of the stack.
My warden leans forward to grab the door handle and I flinch back like a skittish animal, my brain struggling to process what’s happening. I don’t do small spaces, and with the added kick of my wolf being knocked out, my muscles still weak from my escape attempt, and the general mind-fuckery of being held captive for over a week, my fight or flight response has gone haywire. I can usually talk myself down from this early stage of panic, but right now, I’m on emotional overload.
“There aren’t any windows in there, so safe bet you won’t be able to run,” Cam comments as he starts swinging the door closed. “Five minutes,” he adds, and my stomach bottoms out with the snick of the latch.
I just stare at the closed door for a second, suspended in a state of confusion and terror as I try to talk myself down from full-on freaking out.This is fine.The room isn’tthatsmall. I just need to hurry up and shower and then I can get the fuck out of here.
For a minute, it seems like it works. I take a deep, steadying breath, then spin around, pretending like the walls aren't closing in around me. With jerky movements, I walk over to the sink and drop the stack from my hands onto the counter, making eye contact with myself in the mirror.
Shit, I evenlooklike I’m losing it. My face is noticeably pale, even through the dirt clinging to my skin, and my eyes don’t even look like my own. I quickly spin away from the mirror, forcing myself to go through the motions of walking over to the shower cubicle- which for the record, is also a ridiculously tight space- and twisting the handle. Cold watersplashes my skin as it turns on, but I’m so numb that I barely even flinch, whipping my shirt off overhead and dropping it to the tiled floor.
Stepping out of my shorts and under the spray, I suck in a gasp as the frigid water steals the breath from my lungs. It’s probably only for a second, but unfortunately, that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I immediately start hyperventilating, thoughts of doom flooding my brain.
I’m going to asphyxiate in this tiny bathroom and nobody will ever know what happened to me. The hunters will bury my body, and my family won’t ever have closure. They’ll wonder if I’m still alive out there somewhere. They’ll never know how hard I fought and how I almost got away. They’ll never know how much I love them.
The walls start closing in. Black spots cloud my vision as my knees wobble, and I press a palm to the tile just in time for my legs to give out beneath me. I slide down to the floor, putting my back against the wall and curling in on myself, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.
I bury my face in the tops of my knees, still struggling for breath, the salt of tears burning my eyes.
I’m suffocating. I’m going to die here.
Distantly, I register the sound of the door opening and Cam’s muffled voice cutting through the static in my brain. I lift my head just enough to see his boots splashing against the tile in front of me as he steps right underneath the shower spray, crouching down until I can see his face.
His lips are moving, but I can’t make out the words leaving them. There’s something about his voice that sounds panicked, but he doesn’t know real panic. I’m in the midst of a full-blown panic attack, and although I’m self-aware enough to know that’s what this is, I still can’t do anything to stop it. It feels like I’m slowly drowning, kicking uselessly for the surface while all I can do is watch myself sink even deeper.
“Luna,” Cam says sternly, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tipping my face up toward his. “Hey, look at me.”
His voice is gentler than I’ve ever heard it, and as soon as our eyes lock, my vision begins to clear.
I see that strong brow and those intense eyes. That dark, close-cropped beard and that tightly-clenched jaw. That head of curly dark hair. He’s shirtless- he must’ve whipped it off as he rushed over to the shower.
“Breathe with me,” he commands in a low tone that makes me shiver, and when he takes a deep breath in, I mimic the action, releasing it when he does. Again and again, until it finally feels like I can actually draw air back into my lungs.
“Focus on your breathing,” Cam directs in a low rumble. “On the way the water feels against your skin. On the sound of my voice.”
My eyes slide closed as I do all three of those things, my anxiety slowly ebbing away while he coaches me through it.
I have no concept of how long it takes. Eventually, my pulse starts to slow and the adrenaline starts to taper off. Then I open my eyes again, meeting his, and I see him clearly for what feels like the first time.
“Better now?” he asks gruffly.
I give him a feeble nod.
“You were having a panic attack.”
“No shit, Sherlock," I grumble, sliding my hands down to the floor and shifting to sit up straighter.
Now that I’m out of the clutches of panic, I’m just…embarrassed. Both that it happened in the first place and that Cam, of all people, was the one who had to talk me down. The same person who put me in this situation to begin with. This ishisfault, and I fucking hate him for it.
“You’ve had them before?” Cam asks, narrowing his eyes on me curiously.
I nod, watching the way the water runs over the sharpcontours of his face. It’s no longer cold, but he’s still crouching partially beneath the spray, not seeming to care that his pants and boots are now drenched.
“I’ve seen them before,” he murmurs. “Not that bad, but my friend Ben used to…”