Serendipity {Complete}

Chapter 4 - Veer

Veer presses the power button on his door's console to lower the window on her side. Warm air seeps in, filling the air-conditioned cab with the scent of the road. Some poor animal was decaying in the fields, and the ripe stench of death clogs his nose.

Panting loudly, the woman jerks forward towards the window, but her seat belt locks in place. She sobs brokenly, her fingers desperately clawing at the strap. Veer eases his grip on her shoulder and curls his hand over the back of her head, gently forcing her to turn her attention away from the window toward him.

Her panic sets off an echoing flare within his chest. He has no experience with anything like this, but his foremost urgent thought is to get her to focus her attention on him, instead of clawing at the window.

From the light of the dashboard, he spots a vein pop up on her temple, throbbing wildly. Pressing his thumb to the side of her spasming throat tells him her pulse is racing. She grabs his wrist with both of her hands, but he can't tell if she is trying to force it away from her neck or hang on to it.

Calm, man. Slow and calm. He chants to himself.

"Shh... Shh, hey." Veer softens his voice, using his other hand to gently still her grappling fingers. She ends up clutching his hand in a deathly grip. Her breathing is loud and tortured; the noise escaping her throat sounds like the bellows of a wounded animal.

Fucking hell.

"Hey... it's okay." Veer tries to keep his voice low and soothing. "You can breathe. Shh. You are breathing. Look at me."

Unbuckling first his and then her seat belt, he twists in his seat, drawing up his left leg so he can face her directly. His hand still curled around her throat, he lightly rubs her pulse point.

She continues to gasp loudly, her face turning a sickly shade of pale, chapped lips quivering. Her eyes are so wide, the pupils swimming in a sea of white. Short pink nails dig into his hand, leaving tiny crescent-shaped dents in his skin. Her throat convulses painfully as she sucks in air, and he worries she will cramp up.

"Shh... it's okay. You are breathing. Don't force it... you are breathing, shishi." Veer tries to regulate his own breathing, forcing himself to inhale and exhale deliberately and slowly. Exaggerating the motions, he draws in air and gradually blows it out.

Her eyes, zeroing in on his mouth, start to well with tears.

Aw fucking hell.

"That's it. You are breathing. Shhh, you are okay."

With his right hand, Veer reaches behind him and presses down the power button to lower her side of the window half way down.

Sitting this close to her, her scent is more defined. Not musk, but the distinct woody smokiness of oudh. He is surprised she is wearing attar.

"Just look at me, shishi. You don't have to be scared. Okay?"

Her eyes track his lips, and she nods almost imperceptibly. Tears spill down her cheeks, the drops plopping on his hand. Veer continues to gently massage the wildly beating pulse in her jugular. His fingers stroke the muscles in her throat, trying to prevent them from spasming.

Time slows down to shuddering gasps. Veer speaks to her, soft and low, as she struggles to draw in air. Her wheezing slows down in intensity, as do her hands, easing their grip on his wrist.

"You are okay, yeah? You are doing so good, shishi. You are breathing, yes?"

At his questions, she nods; the small movement slices through him. Her focus on his face is absolute, her cinnamon-brown eyes wet and shimmering. The pressure and warmth from his fingers against her throat had revived the perfume oil she probably dabbed there this morning. At every exhale, her breath fans against his mouth, drawing him in as he inhales her lush, smoky scent. Realizing he is almost out of his seat, he eases back to give her more space. She tightens her hold on his hand, and her voice warbles out a watery "uhh".