Lying now on a table with two women ever so gently cleaning my deep cuts. I flinched every time something other than the harsh air put pressure where it hurt worse. My mind was in a whirlwind of pain. I couldn’t stop noticing when the next zing of pain went down my back. For a few seconds I even think I blacked out.
When I came to again I had to listen above the pain to hear a voice carrying through the vents and touching my ears. The voice was soft and sad, lonely. The voice hummed its way to my heart; helping me through the pain. I sighed, distantly grunting from one of the women’s touch, and listened as my own loneliness wiggled its way through me as well.
My eyes shot open in the next instant realizing it wasn’t my own loneliness. It was someone else’s. Camira? I listened to the voice that was still humming weakly, and it was feminine. It was a woman’s voice. I wanted to believe it was Camira’s, but I was afraid to place too much hope on the fact that she could be my mate. I’d be disappointed.
Soon enough the voice faded away and I had nothing more to hold on to; I fell unconscious.
It had been about a day and my back was still sore and itchy with scabs that I couldn’t reach. I haven’t felt or heard anything from Camira’s end, so I’m starting to believe that while I was in so much pain, I wanted to feel and hear her. I imagined her near in some way. But what if it was actually her? I wanted it to be Camira so bad, not just my woozy mind playing tricks.
I’m finally able to stand on my own...and hobble around, so I’m still working. They’ve let me cut back on some of the captures, which to be honest, makes my shoulders finally relax with ease. Father’s the one who is upset because I couldn’t do my job. It’s his fault anyway.
No, actually it’s Zane’s ass that I should be mad at. He’s the one who should never have come down in the first place.
I’m still upset that Ryes left. It was one of those unfair things in life. In order for Ryes to leave, I had to get the whip, but I believe my father thought it would be the other way around. I would leave and Ryes would get the twenty lashes.
As I walked towards the stairwell of the dungeon I told myself that Ryes getting whipped would have never happened. If Ryes chose to get whipped, then I would have put myself before him and substituted my back for his. I guess Ryes knew that, and that’s why he left. Or I hope those were his thoughts.
I was supposed to go get my healing cuts looked at again today, but as the stairs neared I had to stop. I don’t know what I wanted to do at the top of the steps, but I caught myself listening. Listening for Camira. Wanting to have proof that she was the one singing through the vents. Was she even okay?
When Camira came and "persuaded" me she looked really weak. While I was bent over the floor, with a bloody back, I could only see two forms behind her, holding her. At the time through my pain, I figured it was because she could have run, but thinking back, maybe she actually needed that support.
I took a step down onto the staircase, to listen closer for something. Something other than a handful of prisoners breathing and one mumbling. I couldn’t hear anything that could be considered Camira. It's like she wasn’t even down there.
Looking over my shoulder, I looked both directions down the hall. Seeing no one, I made my breathing shallower, so I could hear over my own breathing. There was no guard whatsoever. I knew there should have been someone, but deep down I was thankful there wasn’t a soul to be seen. I think deep down I knew I was going to walk down these stairs, but on the surface I just kept telling myself ‘no’. No, I can’t become a danger to Camira. No, I wouldn’t go down because she told me not to. But yes, I wanted to and would go down; because there was no way they were keeping me away from my mate.
In the next instant I was taking two steps at a time down those stairs, and I wasn’t looking back. As I rounded the corner I noticed that all of the cellmates became quiet. Like they knew something.
My gate sped up into a wimpy half jog, and soon enough I was at Camira’s door. As I looked down she wasn’t awake. Camira wasn’t moving, and when I looked at her more closely, lying on the hay, I realized she wasn’t breathing. Oh gods! Holy crap. I immediately started to panic. I paced along the door to snatch up the keys and then paced back to unlock and yank the door open.
“Oh no.” I muttered aloud, rushing to my mate. “No, no, no, no. Camira baby, wake up.” I had no idea what to do because my mind was in full out panic mode. What do I do? I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her until her neck started to actually shake as well.
Not wanting to give her whiplash, I pulled away and balanced on my heels. It didn’t take me long to realize what was wrong. I swooped in once again and cradled her in my arms. “Camira please. C’mon, wake up for me.” I begged, bringing her closer to the warmth of my chest. My lips were a breath away from her ear, and I whispered, “Breathe.” I knew I was close enough for her to feel my breath along her jaw.
Seconds later she let out ragged breaths, and I almost cried out with joy. “Camira, come on.” I soothed, trying to splay my fingers out more, so she could take in my energy from the skin contact.
Looking down at her strained features, I became frustrated and fearful because she wasn’t opening her eyes. I took in the rest of her body, cradled in my arms, and saw how paper white her skin became. I looked back up into her closed off features, building my confidence, and realized there was only one thing I could do. As a mate this was my obligation, something I should have been doing when we both realized we were mates. Even when we’ve never shared the idea of being mates with each other.
Taking a breath in, I laid her back down on the harsh, poky hay and eyed her one more time. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I shouldn’t be this nervous. Camira was my mate after all, and I knew that I wasn’t at all being intrusive.
Still kneeling down I slowly fit my hands into the curve of her hips and slowly ran one hand up over her ribs, coming closer to the bulge of her breast. I studied Camira every time I touched her differently. Like around the neck, massaging her scalp, or bringing a hand up under her thigh. When she did react it was very minimal, but it made the hope that she would soon open her eyes grow inside me.
I leaned closer to her lips and breathed softly, “Camira.” In response to my warm breath escaping, her lips trembled.
I couldn’t keep myself back anymore. The way her body was so beautifully curved...I just wanted to fit into every curve she had. So I positioned my body above hers and gently my weight sank into her. Camira instinctively melted into me, and I breathed out again, this one brushing across her cheek.
“Camira, open your eyes for me.” I spoke gently again. “Camira please.” I finished, continuing to seduce my unconscious mate.
It wasn’t working! Camira wouldn’t open her eyes! I shifted my weight on her, frustrated once again, and concerned. And all of the sudden her eyes shot open.
“Camira.” I said with relief and surprise winding through my voice.
I looked her over for a moment to make sure she was really okay, and then I tried to figure out how I did it.
“Dagon,” Camira rasped out, and brought her hands up to my face. As she cradled my cheeks her eyes widened, and then I felt it too.