Heart's Blood (MxM)

Chapter 6

I admit I made some sort of noise when I turned around and collided with six-and-a-half feet of man-wall, but to say I "shrieked like a girl" would be a bit extreme.

At least that's what I tell myself as Dane Hunter claps a massive hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. His other hand grips my arm hard enough it hurts, and that--along with my sudden terror--is enough to trigger a now-familiar feeling of tingling fear.

It's the feeling I get every time someone holds me a little too tightly, or crowds a little too close, and I curse Ian again as my heart-rate accelerates into full panic-mode.

Hunter takes his hand from my mouth to grab my other arm and gives me a hard shake.

"What the fuck are you doing out here, Hart?" he demands, releasing me only to catch me again as I almost fall. "I thought I told you to stay out of the fucking woods!"

"I--"

As usual, I seem incapable of intelligent speech in his presence, though this time it's because panic is stealing my breath and making me dizzy.

He's holding ninety-percent of my weight in his hands, and it hurts. I get my feet under me and pull away from his grip, stumbling towards the fallen log to sit before I embarrass myself and fall down.

"I was running," I say, breathing a little too fast and rubbing at my arms.

"'Running,' as in 'poking around a crime scene where you don't belong?'" he asks, arching a brow at an aggressive angle.

"No! Running, as in running my usual route, like I have every fucking right to do!" I shout, and gasp as the effort leaves me feeling starved for air.

Finally, he seems to realize that my reaction is more than just the result of being startled by the sudden appearance of a huge man who can apparently walk through the woods without making any noise.

"Are you having a panic attack?" he asks, sounding only mildly interested.

I nod, keeping my eyes on the ground and focusing on the way my vision seems to be getting darker at the edges.

He drops to one knee in front of me, blocking my view. I startle as he reaches for my wrist, but let him take it to check my pulse.

"Take a deep breath in and hold it for a second, then push hard like you're trying to make your ears pop," he tells me.

I do as he says, recognizing it as a technique to slow a racing heart.

"Alright, deep breath..." he coaches me until I have myself under control. "You get these often?"

I shake my head. "Not anymore," I say. It had actually been months. Then again it had been months since I'd tried to do anything more than talk on a date, too.

"You know what triggered it?"

Without thinking of what I might be giving away, I answer. "Yeah. You hurt me," I say, letting a bit of anger creep into my voice and rubbing at my arms where the red marks of his fingers still show on my pale skin.

A look of comprehension softens his expression, and I hate it.

"I'm sorry. Was it a mugger?" he asks, meaning who fucked me up to begin with.

I laugh, but it's a bitter sound. "No. A lover."

I brace myself for whatever he's going to say to that, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he gets to his feet and wanders away, busying himself with examining the ground and the trees, though we both know there's nothing to find. After a minute, the heat of panic gives way to the chill that follows, and I start to shiver.