"P A S S I O N. It lies in all of us. Sleeping... waiting... and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir... open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us... guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love... the clarity of hatred... the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace."
Joss Whedon, Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Passion
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T H E pain was unbearable.
I felt cold sweat beading on my forehead.
I tasted blood on my tongue as I swallowed my nausea.
I heard low whirring thrum of engines.
I smelled polished leather that my cheeks stuck to.
But the pain blocked it all out as another wave smothered me.
I heard a cry I didn't realize was mine until rough knuckles grazed my forehead.
"Will you ever shut up," replied a low mutter.
That soft but sterile murmur effectively forced me to emerge from the agony pooling in my mind.
I pried open tired eyes, not bothering to acknowledge the blur that was Luc sitting across from me. His hulking frame was hunched over the bright screen of his computer, reading glasses low on the bridge of his nose. I glanced around the dimly lit room. It was spacious and coated in shades of tan. Adjacent to us was another pair of spacious leather seats, in front of us a wide alcove with couches, small tables, and a wet bar. Although it looked like a living room, it still felt too much like a plane for my comfort. I pushed up the sliding window cover to see nothing but the reflection of the moon on an ocean that stretched for miles. My stomach dropped.
"Where are we," I whispered to myself, glancing over at Luc whose attention was dult trained on his laptop screen.
"Mr. Tessiure?" He didn't flinch. Reaching over I slammed his computer shut, almost squishing his fingers in the process. His jaw ticked as I pulled myself closer to him.
"Where are we going?"
He stared down at his closed computer for one, two, three seconds before opening it and going back to work. My eyes narrowed as I clenched my fists. It was clear Luc didn't want to be bothered.
"Fine," I spat between clenched teeth, ready to knock on the cockpit's door as fear began to churn.
Being turned over to the police would be tragic, but at least by the book. If he wanted to dish out personalized punishment... I stared into blue eyes that hardened over the years. He might just kill me.
