Kissing Skulls *Revised*

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

            “One more lap,” I heard Dustyn yell through my sweaty, exercise-induced haze. 

            From how hard I was panting, you might think that I was running in a marathon or something—but no.

            I was merely taking short laps around the width of the great room with Dustyn standing watch from the ramp.  Shit, I wasn’t even running—more like…walking.

            But even that was killing me. 

            “I can’t,” I huffed.  Sweat drenched me like ice water, running down my back, my nose, my chin.  I felt about as gross as a pig farmer. 

            “I did five already!  Isn’t that enough?”

            But pigs would fly before Dustyn would ever show me some mercy.

            “Almost there,” he called, voice unnaturally calm.  It was almost as if my suffering relaxed the guy or something.  “Keep going.  You stop now, and I’ll make you sleep in my office.”

            Geeze.

            With a groan, I forced myself to stumble the last few steps it took to circle the room, whimpering every time my foot hit the ground.  When I finally finished—and collapsed against the wall—the bastard didn’t even have the decency to look pleased.

            He frowned instead, and crossed those tanned arms over his chest. 

            “Now stretch,” he commanded.

            “Dus-tyn.”  I couldn’t keep from whining, even as I forced myself to my feet and peeled my achy arms from my sides. 

Halfheartedly, I lifted them into the air as high as I could—which was hardly past my shoulders.  Dustyn waited, as if expecting more.

“This is me, stretching,” I said weakly. 

            “Pathetic.”  Sighing, he left the ramp in a few easy strides and moved to my side. 

            “Suck it up,” he ordered in advance, just before wrenching my arms straight over my head by the wrists.  “You don’t stretch those muscles, and you’ll hurt like hell later.”

            I couldn’t help it.  I shrieked like a little girl as pain flooded my sore limbs—but I knew he was right.  So, sniffling, I let him stretch and bend my muscles into shape, feeling as if any moment I was about to collapse into a heap on the floor.

            Luckily I didn’t. 

            “Here.” 

            I blinked as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a can of soda.  He made a motion with his arm, as if he was about to toss it, but one look at my shuddering limbs made him think again.  Like a smart boy, he just pressed the ice cold can into my hand instead.

            Grateful, I took a swig and wiped off my lips with the back of my hand.  As the fizzy sugar rushed through my veins, I felt a little better—caffeine tended to have that effect on me.

            Hell, I could have gotten run over by a car, but give me a sip of soda and everything would be a-okay. 

            I took another sip and glanced around for a chair to collapse my aching body into, but Dustyn was already moving before I could so much as begin to relax.  I groaned as one of those pale hands encircled my wrist, dragging me along almost out of habit.