Page 6 of Killian
Her head hurt, and she stared blankly at the phone. She tapped the screen, but nothing happened—the phone stayed dark. She mashed at all the buttons but got nothing. She finally tucked the phone away. Who was she calling again anyway? She staggered to her feet. She would go home. This was bullshit. She sniffed the air to orient herself and get her bearings.
She stood still, feeling the rise of panic in her gut. Nothing smelled familiar. And the cardinal directions were gone. She didn’t know which way was north or south. She knew nothing, and she was adrift in space.
Where the fuck was she? Where were her... anybody? Never mindwhere.Whowere her people? Someone should be here for her. She knew that much. Just like she knew her name was....
Shit.
She didn’t remember her name.
She inhaled sharply, trying to get a lungful of air, but that only made it worse. The unfamiliar scents were now a taste in her mouth, and her heart was going a hundred miles an hour. And she inhaled again, this time through her nose. A reassuring scent of something pushed the other smells aside. Not something. Someone.
She pivoted around and saw him slumped against the far wall. He was dressed in khaki cargo pants, a dark Patagonia jacket that looked well-broken-in, and a dusty canvas backpack. His dark curls were close-cropped against his warm, brown face, and even in an unconscious state, he was handsome. She breathed out a sigh of relief.
It was Killian. He was her person. Killian was here. And if Killian was here, then everything would be all right.
Stumbling over to him, she knelt and put her hand nervously on his chest, but it rose and fell in easy breaths, and she feltthe tension in her shoulders ease. He didn’t look hurt, and she wondered what had knocked them both out.
“Killian,” she whispered, gently stroking his face.
He blinked, opening dark fringed amber eyes, and smiled at her. She was so relieved to see that he was all right that she kissed him. His lips warmed her, chasing away the last remnants of panic.
Killian
Moira was kissing him. She felt warm and loving and tasted like cinnamon and black tea. He loved kissing Moira. Moira was the entire world, and that was as it should be. He buried his fingers into her tangle of dark, near-black locks. They were damp from the....
Outdoors? Rain? Where were they that it was raining? They should be at home in....
He pulled back and blinked into Moira’s green eyes—green like jade under the black wings of her eyebrows. He felt like he was seeing them for the first time. She was smiling.
“Moira,” he said, looking around at the strange room with the gold door and red carpet. “Where are we?”
“Oh,” she said, her smile fading. “I was hoping you knew.”
“You don’t know?”
“I think maybe I got hit on the head,” she said nervously. “I’m having a little bit of trouble with my memory, and everything smells wrong. It doesn’t smell like home at all.”
“No, this isn’t home,” he said firmly, struggling to sit up. Moira helped him and then sat back on her heels, kneeling next to him.
“Yes! Good! But where is home?”
“Well, we live in...” He trailed off, perplexed when the words didn’t immediately come to his mouth. He rubbed his head. “This is ridiculous. I know where we live. We live in...”
“Yes,” said Moira. “That’s how it’s been for me too.”
“But I know who we are,” he said, frustrated. “So, I have to know where we live.”
“You know who we are?” she asked, looking excited.
“Yes! You’re Moira, and I’m... Shit.” He gaped at her, horrified that he had no word for what he was.
She giggled and then immediately looked apologetic. “Sorry. Don’t panic. You’re Killian.”
“I’m Killian?” he repeated, feeling uncertain about it. Was he?
“Yes. That’s literally the only thing I remember. I didn’t even know I was Moira.”
“Well, at least we’re together,” he said, rubbing his head. “I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t find you.”
