Moving Forward

Drowning (41)

The water was ice cold, sinking to the skin under his fur and almost stealing his breath. For the first few strokes, he kept his eyes shut, afraid of what he'd see. Bracing himself, Max opened his eyes, and, for a moment, thought he'd gone blind. It was dark. Pitch black and impenetrable. Fear clawed up his throat, forcing him to remember that he was still underwater before he attempted to gasp a calming breath.

He could go back. All he had to do was swim up, poke his head out of the water and breathe. But no. Wherever he was, it wasn't the lake. It couldn't be. Sun had been shining on the lake - Max would've been able to see if he was still in the lake. Not for the first time, Max cursed Lara and her magic.

They were here. Max's family was down here somewhere and it was his job to find them.

The black felt endless. The longer he swam through it, the more the chill seeped into his bones. He'd never felt anything like it - no winter he could remember had ever been this cold. It was as if it leeched any heat from him. All he could do was keep going. Body growing stiff, paws seizing with the cold despite the constant movement.

The feel of sediment under his feet jolted him. He was at the bottom? Still shrouded in the dark, Max had no clue what he was supposed to do now. He couldn't breathe water, so he couldn't use his nose to find scents, and he still couldn't see.

Frustration coiled in his body, flexing his claws in the loose sand and curling his tail, but it gave way to the sense of lost hope. Max was here, but he'd found nothing. Nobody was waiting for him down here. There were no shouts of relief or cries of fear. Nothing for him to follow.

Finding no reason to keep his eyes open in the overwhelming darkness, Max shut his eyes and let it smother him. "Follow your instincts", Kyle had said in the haze of Lara's magic. Max had no instincts to follow down here. Only memories. Horrible memories of being shot at and shooting in return. Dead bodies and terrified civilians. Unbearably hot days and deadly cold nights. Instincts? Fuck instincts. Max was too messed to be able to trust them - not when he could walk into any restaurant and get a feeling that told him he was about to be ambushed. All his instincts said was that he was getting dangerously close to inhaling water and that the dark was empty and if it was empty, that meant it was safe.

Safe? Max was put in mind of Kyle's eyes - bottomless brown eyes. They smothered him, made him want to lie down and let everything go. Kyle would have laughed at him; wrapped Max up in his arms and told him to sleep. God, Max wished he could. Closing his eyes to the darkness once more, Max lowered himself to his stomach. He could pretend - just for a moment.

As if lying in a patch of sun, Max felt the chill being gently pushed out of his bones. It was too nice - going from the sharp cold to this. Just another moment longer. He'd be useless if he was too cold to move, Max reasoned. It reminded him of the warmth he felt when he was lying in bed, curled up around Kyle and basking in the heat of his mate's body.

In the moment of weakness, Max relaxed. Tension bled from his muscles, and he let the weight of his body collapse completely to the ground. He inhaled.

Panic coursed through Max as the water flooded his lungs. He was too far to be able to swim back up for air. There was no sign of anyone else down here. Distantly, he felt an ache.

Spots appeared in his vision - though Max didn't know how he could tell. It was already pitch black and the spots weren't bright. But he knew. In just a few minutes, the water would claim him. Drowning was a slow process, it seemed, and the fear that claimed his mind made every second seem to take an hour.

What was Max supposed to do now? He was going to die down here, alone, in the dark, not having helped anyone. God, he was so fucking useless!

The words came to Max once again. "Follow your instincts." But what the hell did that mean? Max was made up of drilled-in responses and traumatic past experiences. There was no room left for instincts!

But that was lie, wasn't it. Hearing Kyle's voice in his head seemed to... unlock something. That was the best way Max could describe it. He recalled the day that Kyle had declared them mates. It had been Max's fault. Of course it had, because he hadn't been thinking when his teeth sunk into Kyle's soft, pale skin, through to thick muscle.

Had that been Max acting on instinct? It had to have been. If he'd taken even a second to think the action through, there would've been no way that Max'd find out they were mates so fast. But he'd frozen when the knife went in. How could Max's instincts be right if they'd prevented him from protecting the only man who loved Max the way he needed?

"I'll always come back to you." Kyle had said. With his death, was that what those words now meant? That Kyle would always be in his heart, his memories? That wasn't a comfort. If anything Max just felt cheated. They were supposed to be forever.

Fuck it. If this was the way Max was going to die, at least he'd done his best with what little he had. Water in his lungs, he glared into the darkness around him, almost daring it to show him something to live for now that he'd accepted that he was going to die. At least he'd see Kyle again.

Breathe.

The command came from his body, traitorous though it was, so insistent that Max didn't even have a chance to deny it. His eyes clamped shut. His mouth gaped and water burst from his throat with such force that Max's claws curled further into the sand under his feet. Body hunched low in pain, Max finally gasped, and almost cried with the relief of inhaling air. Fucking air.

There was no way he was in the lake now.

Both comforted by the idea of not drowning, and disappointed by the reminder that he was going to have to live a little longer without Kyle, Max opened his eyes to see where Lara's cursed magic had landed him now.