Page 12 of The Guru: Shadow

“Deep breaths, in and out,” he whispered at her. “Follow mine.”

It was so easy to follow his command.

She breathed in ever so deeply, allowing air to flood her compressed lungs as she focused on syncing with his breathing. And eventually, all her body tension fell from her like water rushing down an opened drain. Her muscles loosened, and she almost let herself collapse into the arms of the dangerous stranger.

Was it weird? Oh yes. But right now, she didn’t care. It simply did not matter. Nothing mattered. Because he knew how to calm the waves that threatened to drown her.

“Good girl,” he said softly while stroking with his palm over her hair.

Maybe it was owed to her state, but normally she would’ve never ever let anyone call her good girl, nor stroke her hair, but the way he did it, the sound of his voice purring from his chest, how he held her – it all made her feel so grounded. There was no judgement in it, just being.

While they stood there, time wasn’t a thing anymore. It could’ve been hours, days, or minutes. The surroundings didn’t exist anymore; she didn’t even hear the loudbingof the elevator until he spoke.

“Let’s get you home,” came his whisper, brushing a strand of her hair back. And she just let herself be pulled into the elevator with him.

The entire ride down, he leaned slightly against the wall of the elevator, holding her tight in his arms. It was a weirdly satisfying feeling. He did not let go of her, nor did he loosenhis grip, not even for a tiniest bit.

Waves of shudder trembled through her body by now, all the stress falling from her. And he was just there. The stranger, who felt like she’d knew him forever.

They arrived on the ground floor, and he pushed himself off the wall with her. His arm wandered around her back. He still did not let go of her. And as they stepped into the lobby of Waterstones Tower, he took out his phone with his free hand to send a quick text.

“My driver will be here in five,” he told her while he read the response. “Where do you live?”

His driver.

Of course he has a driver,she thought, rolling her eyes.

“Normally, I don’t allow anyone to roll their eyes at me,” he said quietly to her, “but I might make an exception with you today.” And with it, he brushed the reluctant strand of hair falling into her face out of it, and just for a single brief moment, the back of his hand brushed over her cheek.

A shudder rushed through her, shattering her ground while her inner world was on the verge of bursting. Heat from his words shot through her core like the Arizona sun burning down at noon. Meanwhile, the panic attack still clenched her bones.

“I–” she stammered, lost for words as she stared flabbergasted into these x-raying ice-blue eyes, unable to break the gaze. His eyes from this close proximity were unbelievable. The endless depth of an ocean reflected in them, which made them unreadable, while saying everything.

“Tell me where you live, so we can get you home.”

A part of her didn’t want to let him know where she lived. He was dangerous; all of him shouted it. The strong build, the eyes full of darkness, the words he spoke, the way he moved and acted. Not to forget the mess she lived in.

“How about we start with names?” he asked her casually. “Deis.” He held out his hand to her. “And you are?”

“Em–Emma,” she stuttered from all her trembling and considered his hands for a moment. They were big, with visible knuckles, a big golden ring on the middle finger of hisleft hand. It did not look like a wedding ring, more like one of those old seal rings. She made a mental note to investigate the ring further and took his outstretched hand.

His hands are so fucking soft!And in an unhinged fraction of a second, she felt his hand glide over her naked form in her mind.

Fuck. I need to get a grip on myself! He’s dangerous!

His expression was unreadable while so intense, almost as if he stripped her of all her masks and clothes.

It seemed like hours were passing as they just stood there, him not letting go of her hand, not that she minded. Instead, he caressed with his thumb over the back of her hand.

Holy crap shit. So he is feeling it too. Or maybe he has even worse images playing in front of his inner eye.

“Emma is a beautiful name,” he said. “Last name?”

“Richardson.”

“Related to the famous Dan Richardson?” he asked her with his deep voice. It was so deep it went right to her core, humming a beautiful song of calmness in her.

“No. I’m not one of those famous, successful people like the others at Stone’s.”