Her eyes fixed on mine, then widened in recognition, in amazement.
“I need you to breathe for me.”
I laid a hand against her straining chest. Her skin was flushed and hot. Her heart was thrilling like a frightened bird. I laid my other hand along her face. I looked deeply into her eyes. They were like dark pools. I leaned close enough to kiss her. She smelled of selas flower, of green grass, of road dust. I felt her strain to breathe. I listened. I closed my eyes. I heard the whisper of a name.
I spoke it soft, but close enough to brush against her lips. I spoke it quiet, but near enough so that the sound of it went twining through her hair. I spoke it hard and firm and dark and sweet.
There was a rush of indrawn breath.
”| — | The Wise Man’s Fear—Patrick Rothfuss |
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