Saving Shard

Chapter 7

For a fleeting moment Misty Waterflower forgot about Team Rocket, about her abduction and about her impending mortality. She even forgot how to exhale. The young man lying before her was . . .

. . .beautiful.

This Rocket was no longer looting jewelry, or money, or Pokemon. Instead he was effortlessly stealing the very breath from her lungs. In this moment Elite Rocket Shard was vulnerable. His unconscious head rested upon her lap. Shard had been undeniably attractive with the mask on, but without it . . .

Misty finally reminded herself to breathe.

In his defenseless state -right now - Shard was the most devastatingly handsome man that Misty had ever seen. Thick dark lashes lay atop his unmasked sleeping eyes. Apparently Shard had also thieved Misty's impulse-control for her hands maneuvered on their own. Her fingers boldly grazed his eyebrows and down the line of his jaw. His skin felt like a Charizard egg, smooth and very warm. Despite the heat, Misty shivered, unprepared for the burn which sizzled throughout her entire system.

As Misty continued to examine Shard she noticed a cut below his left eyebrow. She scolded herself for neglecting to clean it.

Unconscious as he was, Shard reminded Misty of a statue. He resembled one of those ancient sculptures which paid tribute to a deity from the past. A cherished stone idol — a work of art — to be admired and awed . . . but never capable of enjoying life, of living it, of feeling.

Misty began cleaning Shard's wound. She brushed his bangs to the side, but paused. Her fingers and her sight lingering upon his naked face again. Did he look . . . familiar? Shard was now effortlessly hijacking her memory banks. He definitely reminded her of more than a handsome statue . . . he did remind her of someone. But who? There was something, just something . . . maybe . . . that was familiar?

Maybe not.

Attractive as he may be, Shard was a killer. A Rocket. Who could he possibly remind her of? No one she knew went around breaking the law. Misty was certain of that.

Still . . . a yearning question plagued her: why does Shard hide behind this mask? I understand his need for it when out committing crimes, but why here in the Rocket base? Glare and others don't wear their masks here. Is he missing an eyeball or something?

Now Shard began to stir and Misty became far stiffer than any statue. She clung to his mask like a lifeline. What should she do? Put it back on? Hide it? Would he become angry with her for removing it? What would he say to her?

Shard squinted, moaning, and slowly sat up. He pressed his hands to his temples, Misty was sure they were throbbing. She held her breath. Shard was disoriented and so far he had no idea that his mask was missing.

Not that it matters, Misty insisted to herself. You did what you had to do to help him. If he doesn't appreciate that then that's HIS problem.

Shard shook his head groggily and his eyes blinked open.

Nope, he was not missing an eyeball.

Misty forgot how to breathe again.

A glittering sapphire would be envious. Shard's eyes were the most brilliant shade of blue. Without effort this thief had captured her breath yet again. Like discovering a flame within a blizzard did he mesmerize her now. Shard's eyes seemed to throw blue sparks which smoldered Misty's wit, her reason and rapidly scorched her defenses away.

Misty considered exhaling. She debated speaking. But her mouth would not comply. She dared not even blink. Misty was not ready to look away. She longed to be the thief now, to steal a look at those blazing sapphires for as long as she could.