Every Breath She Takes Mga Nobela at Kwento

Warm and steady. “Hey, breathe with me,” She said quietly, her eyes locked on mine. I shook my head once; there was no point resisting. She didn't move away or run. There was no judgement in her eyes, only care. Her thumb moved slowly against the side of my neck, as she matched my slow breathing to hers. Breathe in. Breathe out. I closed my eyes for a second, getting a grip on myself as I breathed slowly and evened out.

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't breathe not because I didn't but because the beauty of her body knocked the wind out of me. It was far beyond anything I could have ever imagined. My eyes trailed from the tips of her curly hair which she had let fall slowly down to her beautiful face, down her perfect neck, down to the valley between her breasts. Moving my eyes sidewards, I stared at her perfectly shaped breasts. They were slighty heaving as she took slow short breaths. Her breaths seemed to be in sync with the rain falling outside.

She fought for freedom from Niarthen’s grip, wanting up and not down, her lungs starved for air, but he would not release her, instead turned her within his hold and closed his mouth over hers, forcing her lips to part. Air escaped past them; the bubbles felt against her cheeks as they rose. And then he breathed out, and her desperate suck for air inhaled his exhalation. The pressure in her lungs eased, and before she knew it, they’d exchanged three breaths. He was breathing for her, she realized as the panic subsided. She wrapped her arms and legs around his waist and opened her eyes letting the sting past.

“Five breaths…” “Three,” she countered, closing her eyes. The first breath delivered her scent to my beast. Our reason for existing. The only other person on this planet I would ever want or need. The reason for everything I've ever done. Smoke rose around us and her eyes shot open. The second breath she looked into my eyes, and her shifting green’s had me mesmerized like a child watching the clouds pass by. I’ll spend an eternity watching them, getting to know every swirl and explosion within them.

I scream as I pause compressions. I rub my hand across her forehead feeling that instead of being cold as ice she has begun to thaw. It must be my breathing that is helping her I think to myself. I decide to stop my compressions and take the biggest deep breath that I can. I form my mouth to hers and I empty my lungs into hers willing my breath to bring her back to me. Suddenly she snatches away from my mouth to gasp as she grasp my arms in hers digging her fingers into my skin. I am so glad for the pain that she causes me because it means she is alive.

How can she be smiling? "That's so much better," she takes one deep breath. "You should try that." "What?" "Take a goddamn breath and tell me why you were ready to suffocate me. With love, I get that. But still. Oxygen had a hard time finding its way to my lungs." That sharp tongue of hers! I have better use for it. And if she wants me to relax she can- "OK, OK, OK," Egil comes next to me. "You reek of someone ready to do something no one wants to see their Alpha and Luna do, right guys?"

I claw at my throat when the whip snaps again. Strong arms wrap around me and pull me flush against a large, strong chest. “Hey. It's okay. It's not happening. We're home. We're safe. Breathe, love. Breathe. That's it. Good boy. Take another breath. That's it. Breathe, baby boy.” Walker says softly, coaxing me to breathe, slowly pulling me back to reality. I squeeze my eyes closed, gripping his sides with shaking fingers. My chest slowly rises as I take in one lungful of air after another.

Now she stood at the treeline, heart pounding, staring at the faint glow of torches from the great hall. And then she felt it. The pressure in her chest surged, sharp and unbearable, stealing the air from her lungs. Her knees buckled. One hand clawed at her breastbone, as though she could pry away the invisible grip crushing her. She gasped, trembling, her breath coming in shallow, frantic pulls. “Breathe,” she whispered to herself, though every attempt felt like drowning. And then, across the distance — she felt him. A pulse. A tether. Something slamming into her spirit with the force of a storm. The air rushed back into her lungs, cold and sweet, like she’d broken the surface of a deep, da

and that also without a stich of makeup on her face. Coupled with her off-white cardigan and plain blue skirt, she always looked as though she were on her way to an interview in library. We used to think, it was just a phase and she'd soon grow out of it, but she never had. Even though in my entire fifteen year, she hadn't changed at all. The only thing that changed was the size of her clothes and hair.

Every time her throat flutters and she steadies because I told her to. “Breathe,” I remind her. “Good. Again.” Her hands stay laced behind her back like she promised. She takes everything I give her and waits for my next instruction. I talk her through the crest when I feel her struggle, forcing my own breath to even out so she can match it. I’m not letting this turn into wild and thoughtless, not yet. I’m making it deliberate and controlled. She hums low in her chest and it’s almost my undoing.