Breathing Styles Novels & Stories

(staggered breathing) *increase pacing* *slapping of skin* “Hnnf... ah— fucking hell” (choked moan) *changing angle without removal* “Huhh... hhhah...” (gasping into panting) All filtered through the high-end speakers like some kind of performance art. No story, or slow burn. Just sweat and camera angles, the type that promise release without connection. I sit back down, eyes fixated. This should help. I lean back, loosen my jaw, settle into the comfort of detachment.

“I am breathing.” “Not like that.” I open one eye. “There are different ways to breathe now?” “Yes.” I close it again with a muttered, “Of course there are.” Kade’s voice lowers. “Slow it down. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.” I do it. At first, it feels pointless. Then… something shifts. The pounding of my heart starts to steady. The ache in my muscles doesn’t disappear, but it dulls at the edges. “Now,” Kade says, “listen.”

My eyes met his. “Don’t look away,” he said, his palms pressing into my thigh, and I inhaled. “Breathe,” he cooed, moving my legs apart. “Exhale till both our breathing is in sync.” “What?” He nodded, his eyes burning into mine. My eyes ran down his neck, watching his pulse, and exhaling slowly. As I matched my breathing to his, I felt my pores opening. It was a strange thing, but my body began to open to him, my muscles relaxing into a state of buoyancy with each exhale I made. Almost like I could lift my legs and my body would float.

My blue eyes aren’t helping either, too bright, too noticeable. I open a drawer and pull out a small black bottle. Not cologne. Pheromones. Alpha pheromones. I spray it liberally on the chest, neck, and wrists. Then raise my arm to my nose and inhale. Strong. Sharp. Synthetic. But effective. Satisfied, I tuck the bottle into my pocket and head out.

“Hear me. Listen to me. Take down as much oxygen as possible, and when you breathe out, hold it for as long as you can. Four counts, six counts, eight counts. Each time, you move higher and higher.” My eyes leak tears. Four counts? I attempt the technique because I want to lose. I didn't succeed the first time. But on the third attempt, I manage to breathe out for four long beats before sucking in air like I’m suffocating again. “There.” The voice makes me relax. “You’ve got it. Now, for six. Ready? Let me count on you.” His thumb swipes across my knuckles gently, and I tell my lungs this is the one that will calm me down.

“The objective is to reach a state of relaxation. We begin with slow, controlled deep breaths. Try to keep your mind clear and focused on your breathing. Thoughts will come, and that’s okay, but let them come and then let them go. It’s natural to feel a variety of emotions as well, it’s okay, but don’t let them disrupt your focus. Just like thoughts, let them come and let them go. Now you can close your eyes or focus on a specific point, that’s up to you.” “Sounds easy enough,” Dannie said, and Balric showed her the breathing technique he wanted her to use. When it was her turn, Dannie started to close my eyes but changed her mind. There was something about having her eyes closed that made h

Slowly, deliberately, I inhaled and exhaled, hoping he would mimic me. At first, there was no response. His gaze remained distant, and his chest rose and fell erratically. But I didn’t stop. “You’re doing great,” I encouraged, offering a small, reassuring smile. “Just keep trying.” Gradually, almost imperceptibly at first, his breathing began to shift. The quick, shallow gasps slowed, becoming more measured as he started to match my rhythm. I continued to guide him, keeping my tone soft and consistent. “In through your nose,” I repeated gently, drawing in a long breath. “Out through your mouth.”

Maybe morning. It really doesn’t matter. My head is spinning and I walk out to the patio that over looks a tree line lit by the moon and just look for gravity in any space that I can find it. The cold air is sobering. Chilling my skin and hardening my nipples to remind them what it’s like to not be caged in by the restraints of clothing that binds the females anatomy. I take a deep breath in, forcing out my exhale as fast as possible. A meditation technique to help center me. Deep natural breath in, forced fast breath out. Also known as Fire Breathing.

“Not at it. Me.” Her gaze slid, skittered, returned. She pinned him with those green eyes the way a drowning person pins the surface they are trying to reach. I can’t breathe. “Then breathe with me.” He drew in a slow lungful of the damp, mineral air. Held. Let go. “Here. In. Hold. Out. Stay on my count.” She mirrored him—shaky, too fast at first, then falling into sync, if only because her mind used his rhythm the way you use a rope in a flood.

“Why don’t we go through some focus exercises? It might help channel your energy, keep your mind sharp.” I consider this, then nod slowly. “Okay, let’s do that. Maybe it will help.” We move to a quieter corner of the room, and Kris guides me through breathing techniques designed to center and calm the mind. “Breathe in for four counts, hold for four, breathe out for four, and hold for four. Focus only on the breathing,” she instructs softly. I follow her lead, closing my eyes and concentrating on the rhythm of my breath. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. Gradually, the tightness in my chest loosens a bit, the edge of panic dulling into something more manageable.