Page 127 of Beneath the Mountain Sky
I do as he tells me.
That memory of Killian directing me the same way and the feel of him molded against me racing back to further help me relax into the voice’s instructions.
“In…Out. Slowly.”
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
The voice softens, words coming slower. “Now…hold it for a count of five.”
I do, keeping Killian’s scent deep in my chest.
“One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Now…release.”
It slides from between my lips in a long rush, taking with it some of the tension that’s been hardening my spine and aching in my shoulders.
“You’re in the cabin and relaxed. You’re breathing calmly. You feel good. You feel safe. I’m not going to tamper with this memory or safe space in any way, shape, or form. This is your happy place. Remember this feeling and bring it to your current moment and your memories. Remember and relax. Breathe in, breathe out. Keep the rhythm. And I want you to picture the Memorial Day Festival last year. Can you do that for me?”
My mind clicks over to that very vivid memory of watching Killian work on his carving of the bobcat. I feel my lips curl up into a smile. “Yes, I remember it.”
“Good. And you were happy, relaxed.”
I nod. “I was.”
“Good. Remember that feeling. Now, I want you to think about that evening after the festival. Do you remember that?”
Nodding, my cheeks heat, and I shift in the chair, pressing my legs together against the throb at the apex of my thighs. “Yes.”
“And where were you?”
Bent over the couch…
“In the cabin with Killian.”
“And you were happy, relaxed.”
I nod. “Yes.”
So, so happy…
The way he loved me that night. How thoroughly he took me and made me unravel. It would be impossible to ever forget.
“What about the following morning?”
No.
My brain tries to shut it down. Familiar inky blackness fills the space where the memory should be. Swirling around my head like a vicious tempest.
I squeeze my eyes closed tighter, fighting against the abyss.
That dull throb starts at my temples.
It slowly shifts from pitch black to dark gray, lightening.
