Beauties and Beasts Pt 2

Chapter 153

Neara is found, Benedict hears his full name, and Orson gets sunburned. Next stop: aloe vera-ville.

Neara's face almost fell off, they cut through the water so fast. Within a few seconds (felt like hours) of her face touching the water, she had to clasp a hand over her nose and mouth to stop herself from breathing. Winston's tiger arm clutched her tightly to his chest, the rest of his body stretched out beside hers. She made the mistake of opening her eyes, but they were just as terrible in the dark salt water as they used to be on land, and she couldn't make anything out anyway, so she tightly squeezed them again. The burning on her lashes almost compared to her lungs struggling to inflate. Just a little longer, she told herself, knowing her body didn't speak English, only adrenaline.

The ocean sounded louder than she'd expected, with loud clicks and groans whizzing past almost as soon as she'd registered them. She didn't feel his legs kicking, so maybe he was being pulled? The idea of Orson hauling on poor Winston's arms with all his six-stripe fury chilled her. Then she remembered she had her own strength. Maybe she could pull... oxygen or something, she didn't know. She concentrated on her collarbone, willing the beastmark to life, or fruition, or blossoming into a gill. Nothing happened. Ok, maybe she needed to draw on her mates. She tried to direct the burning to their marks, even Aetius's, as the need to breathe consumed her being. Her body thrashed against Winston's involuntarily, feet pedaling against his stomach in her desperation to reach air. His arm remained solid, pinning her to his side. She knew if she moved her hand from her face, she'd die. She opened her eyes, praying for a glimmer of sunlight, but the rushing water blurred everything. The pressure built inside like a furnace about to explode. She was going to die if she didn't breathe. She moved her hand.

Her lungs burned again, a deeper kind of pain. She barely had time to realize her mistake before a nearly bald basketball pressed against her lips. Her eyes shot open and Willem's face swam into view, his legs locked tightly around her waist, hands holding her steady against his mouth. He pressed air into her lungs and she hyperventilated, as if she'd never breathed before. Her hand grabbed at the back of his head, pressing it more firmly to hers, trying not to feel greedy as she inhaled everything he would give her. This wasn't a kiss, unless a kiss of life counted. His features blossomed as more sunlight penetrated the deep water, more gradual than a sunrise. She even thought she saw a few dark shapes in the distance, too large to be affected by the speed, rising slowly with them.

Then Willem was jerked from her arms and she groaned, reaching for his air again. The arm around her waist had gone limp and a lot of noises filled her head, though she could only pick out a few words at a time.

"...the hell was she..."

"...'s not breathing!"

"...-ck whoever's ide-"

And some screaming/wailing muffling everything else. She fought to keep her eyes open, trying to raise herself up and being forced back down again. Her mouth tried to speak, but she couldn't get something heavy out of her throat. A hard hand pulled her over a thin surface and smacked her back repeatedly and, when that failed, she was lifted by her ankles and spun in circles, the weight spewing from her mouth in a disgustingly-sweaty-body-tasting mess. When she started coughing, the circles slowed and she was brought back to a firm surface, rolled on her left side while that same hand tried to slap her lungs out of her chest.

"Win..."

"He's fine, you rock-for-brains woman, focus on getting the ocean out of your lungs." Another slap almost sent her off the edge of... whatever they were floating on. Seasickness slowly crept over the back of her head and rolled behind her eyes like a chicken setting on eggs.