Breathing Styles Novels & Stories

The panic tightened its grip. She hesitated. “In for four,” I continued calmly. “One… two… three… four.” I inhaled slowly, deliberately, exaggerating the movement of my chest so she could mirror it. “Hold for two,” I said. “One… two.” Her lips trembled, but she held it. “Out for four,” I murmured. “Slow. One… two… three… four.” I exhaled long and controlled. She tried to copy me. It wasn’t perfect. Her breath caught halfway, shaky and uneven.

As a true Master, he prioritized her comfort, guiding with expertise born of experience. "We'll start with trust-building," he said, his tone deep and instructive, delving into the essence of the exercise. "Breathing first. Inhale slowly through your nose for a count of four. Hold for four. Exhale through your mouth for four. Follow my lead." He demonstrated, his breaths even and audible, a rhythmic guide. Kyra mirrored him, her chest rising and falling in sync. It was cute, the way her head tilted slightly as she concentrated, her lips parting just a bit with each exhale.

She couldn't, her own breath a series of short, useless gasps. "Okay," he said, his voice unshaken. "New plan. We count. Breathe in with me. One... two... three... four." He breathed in deeply, demonstrating. "Hold. One... two... three. Now out. One... two... three... four... five."

“Don’t listen to him. He’ll smother you with his need. Focus on me. Breathe with me.” She gasped, her body convulsing, her nails scraping bloody lines into the floor. My grip tightened. “I said breathe.” My voice dropped lower, each word carrying weight. “In. Out. Match me.” I exaggerated a breath, slow, deep, filling my chest, then releasing it steadily. Her trembling lips tried to follow, shaky, broken, but each time she faltered I repeated it, relentless, until the ragged edge of her gasps began to sync faintly with mine.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face — absentminded, gentle. “I don’t like leaving in the mornings,” he confessed quietly. “You have work.” “I know.” There was frustration beneath it. Not at me. At circumstance. “You don’t have to be everywhere at once,” I told him. “I know,” he repeated. But he still looks back twice before exiting the room each morning qs if memorizing the sight of me resting there. The midwives have begun teaching me breathing techniques. Slow inhales. Controlled exhales. Visualization. They dim the lights during practice and speak softly. “Imagine the pain as a wave,” one says. “It rises. It peaks. It falls. You are not drowning. You are riding it.”

“Even as your Luna, am I just paying you back by having sex with you and bearing your kids? I will always owe you everything, and what about-” He stops me from my spiral by simply putting his hand on mine. His steady warmth forces me to freeze, and my eyes meet his. He keeps my gaze as he says, “Breathe, Raina.” I follow him in the breathing pattern he shows me. Inhale for four, hold for seven, exhale for eight. Repeat. And again. And again.

"And I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that?" I tried to shake my head, but his hands held me still—not forcefully, but firmly enough that I couldn't look away from his eyes. "Yes, you can," Nicholas insisted. "Watch me. Focus on nothing but my breathing. Breathe in—" He took a slow, deep breath, his chest expanding. "Hold—" He paused for a beat. "And out." He exhaled slowly and deliberately. I tried desperately to follow his rhythm, my lungs fighting against me. In, hold, out. In, hold, out.

His hands hang loose at his sides but his fingers twitch. “Feet shoulder width,” I instruct. “Knees soft. Do not lock them.” He adjusts. “Breathe in through your nose,” I continue. “Slow. Count to four.” He does. “Out through your mouth. Count to six.” His breath shakes on the release. “That is fine,” I say. “Do it again.” We breathe together. The bond hums. Quiet. Present. Minutes pass. Or maybe seconds. Time bends here. Blake opens his eyes. “It is louder tonight.”

Ronnie leads me to the centre of the garden and stands in front of me. There aren’t any fancy exercises. Ronnie just gestures for me to stand with my feet shoulder-width apart on the damp grass. “Let’s start with breathing,” he says, voice calm and low from the years of practice talking young wolves through first shifts. “In for four seconds, hold for three, out for four.” He counts softly. I follow, drawing air through my nose, slow and steady. Inhaling the scent of grass and soil, and faint wood smoke from one of the distant cabins. Each exhale eases a little of the tension in me.

I stayed there frozen on my seat, unable to move an inch. “Breather in and breathe out. Breathe in and then breathe out….” I kept chanting those continuously until I could finally calm my nerves. “You can do this, Aiv! You’re a strong girl.” I mentally prepared myself and slowly turned my head to see the “person” staring right through the window at me with its dark ashy green eyes. I felt a chill run down my spine. It was like someone had poured icy cold water on my naked body in winter. Our eyes locked for a second,but before I could come back to my consciousness, he disappeared.