Narrator: Adrian "Arrow" DeFlèche
"Nooo! No, no, no, no, no!" he seethes.
I pay him no attention. I know not where he is.
My body woke before my mind. I am already upright as I come to, with my left hand on the back of her neck and right pressing lightly against her lower back. Our lips part into each other's and I feel something there beyond the sense of mere touch. I don't even open my eyes. It flows into us both, from an origin between us. And then it pulses through me gently, rippling through my nervous system and my consciousness as waves spreading outward do.
She can feel it too.
I can feel it too.
We are one.
It's cold in the nurse's station, but we don't care.
We remain oblivious to Jake. He fumes.
I can feel every hair on her head as if it is my own. I can feel the touch of myself against her, as if we are both separate people and two parts of the same, all in the same instant. There's the soft weight of all that she wears, and the nervous tension hiding in her feet. I'll never forget the feeling of unreal warmth that dances around her chest. And somehow, I know this connection goes both ways.
Her awe-inspired, apprehensively languid movements, one hand caressing my back, tells me she too is picking up on far more than the average kiss. However, I can sense in her what she's not yet trained to notice. There's a power awakening within her, a livelier aura full of a power that causes my hands to tremble against her soft body.
I'm hardly aware of the changes it has wrought in me. I'm too focused on what I must protect to realize that I now have greater means to do so.
And the thought seems to occur to us both at once, tongues passing lips and colliding smoothly. They slide past each other and then back away politely.
We are pleasing each other, and feeling the pleasure we cause to one another so directly that it nearly defies reckoning. I am, no-- we are caught in a slow, graceful moment of bliss.
And as our lips part, the connection doesn't break. We're both quiet, breathing calmly with eyes closed. The realization that this connection draws adoration and gratitude to the forefront of my mind, and to hers. And in that moment, I can almost feel it, as if the connection might grow to encompass each other's feelings.
Yet abruptly, I am pushed away to the side.
Flash, flash, flash.
I recoil. I can feel the strain pressing against my awareness. It tightens. It threatens to strangle my thoughts into simplicity. And then I am torn away.
Flash! A flash of impenetrable black.
My mind is caught in a moonless midnight.
It's a warning. It's his aura. Hatred. Resentment. Buried jealousy. Lies, deception. Hate, hate, hate. My mind reads it by instinct, and it clouds my vision, parting only to reveal worse truth.
His hands are holding either side of her face. Their faces are twisting into each other. I can feel an echo of her nerves, the feeling of his tongue exploring her mouth eagerly. She's moaning into him. There's a lust rising in her, and then the connection fades entirely.
I am too shocked to move.
His hands are around her tightly. Possessively. Moments pass, and I feel a monster growing in me too. My morals want to break, to contort, to allow some way to levy mild revenge. Finally, he pulls back.
Her voice is full of smooth exuberance. The words on her lips terrify me, "That was the best kiss I've ever had, Adrian!"
Then, she opens her eyes.
I will never forget the scream that came from her lips when she saw his face staring back at her. Her thoughts contort in a confused cacophony, the torn connection letting me feel it faintly. Tears rise below her eyes.
He bolts. I can see the frustration and dissatisfaction on his face as he flees the scene.
I am too shocked to move.
She continues to cry.