Page 33 of Carnal Urges
“Your father had to teach you how to breathe? What a surprise. Pity he didn’t put a pillow over your face first.”
I give him a smack on his rock-hard biceps. “Will you listen to me?”
“I am. That’s the problem.”
“Box breathing is something he learned in the navy. It’s an excellent way to calm your nervous system and focus your mind. Try it. We can do it together.”
“I’d rather be burned alive.”
“Oh, come on! I swear, it works.”
I lift my arms wide and make a big show of inhaling. Declan mutters some kind of voodoo curse. I hold the breath, making googly eyes at him, and he groans. When I exhale, I slowly drop myarms to the silent count in my head. He’s looking at the ceiling, sighing.
“You’re like cancer. Only not as fun.”
I poke him in the chest with a finger. “Just try it. I didn’t think you were the hyperventilating kind, but I’m starting to think I was wrong.”
He lowers his head and gazes at me. “For your information, I’m familiar with box breathing.”
That takes the wind out of my sails. “Oh.” We stare at each other for a moment, until I brighten. “See, it worked!”
“What are you blabbering about now?”
“You’re not mad anymore. You calmed down.”
“How did it work? I wasn’t the one doing all the heavy breathing.”
“I know, but watchingmedo the box breathing calmedyoudown. That’s how effective it is. It can even work on other people by osmosis!”
He stares at me for a beat, blue eyes feverish with the urge to commit homicide. His voice comes out thick. “I can honestly say, and I mean this with all sincerity, I’ve never met anyone quite like you, lass.”
My smile could blind a man. “You’re welcome. Oh, by the way, I was thinking.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Look at you go with the snappy comebacks! I’m a good influence on you.”
“If this is you being agoodinfluence on me, I should kill myself immediately.”
I wave that off. “I think I figured out why you keep saying I started a war. And you’re wrong.”
He stares at me for a moment. “I have a feeling I should be sitting down for this.”
I gesture to the nearest chair. “Be my guest.”
“You do recall this is my home, correct? You’remyguest.”
“I’ve been upgraded from captive to guest? Cool.”
He scowls. “No. That’s not what I—oh, fuck. Never mind.”
He drops into the chair and sits there like he’s in Death’s waiting room, praying for his number to be called.
I sit across from him and fold my legs underneath me. When he directs his scowl at my folded legs, I simply smile. “As I was saying. This war you keep accusing me of starting. It all began with a dinner at La Cantina in Lake Tahoe, didn’t it?”
He doesn’t respond.
“Okay, maybe you didn’t know that. Or you did, and you’re just being your usual dazzlingly charming self. Either way, I remember Stavros telling me that a war was brewing. Well, technically, he didn’t tell me, I overheard it. Okay, fine, I was eavesdropping on him and his crew, but the point is, this was only a few days after the gunfight at La Cantina where some Irish gangsters were killed. That part you obviously know about.”
