“Tell me why you speak of this girl as being yours?” Damien asked Lane, quizzically.
“Her scent spoke to me,” Lane stated bluntly.
“Explain what you mean?” Damien demanded.
Lane looked at me, his eyes holding mine as he continued in a quiet voice, “Her scent came to me and laid upon my body like the morning dew on a flowery meadow. It shone on me like the sun on the sparkling pebbles of the beach. It soothed me like ocean waves gently lapping upon my warm feet. It raised my hair like a gentle breeze on a hot summer day. It fluttered my eyelashes like the first snowflakes of winter softly brushing my face. It quenched my thirst and filled me after a long hunger. It spoke words only I could hear. She is mine”
“Ah,” Damien said softly as he thought over the words Lane had said. Then he continued, “Go now.”
“No,” Lane cried. “She is mine.”
“Yes, I recognize that now. You must go now, while I clean up this mess. I will not harm her.” Then, seeing Lane standing his ground, Damien said in a voice that demanded to be obeyed, “GO.”
Damien was already turning to me as Lane turned away, muttered mine, and seemed to vanish into mid-air.
I was slowly becoming aware of my surroundings again as Damien came towards me, and I tried unsuccessfully to get to my feet. Damien reached out, placed a hand on my shoulder, calming me instantly. I turned my head to look into his eyes. “Help me,” I sobbed. “Please help me!”
“I will,” Damien told me soothingly. “Look at me and listen,” he instructed.
I listened as his words flowed around me and away again. I listened; Damien healed me; and still I listened.
