Page 61 of Elas

“Interesting way to look at it,” Khors muses, rubbing his hand over his chin.

“All I’m saying is, August is smart… for a human.” We share a smile that feels wretched on my face. “He hasn’t shown signs of knowing anything he shouldn’t yet, but if he does…” I shrug, vaguely gesturing towards the window. “Perhaps there’s something that could be done with him. You’re far too strategic to waste an asset.”

Khors considers this, following my gesture to gaze out into the morning sun. “You mean use him at Ljómur?”

I shrug again as his eyes return to mine, refusing to be the first to break this stare-off. “Perhaps. If it turns out to be a problem, why not put him somewhere that information wouldn’t be a liability?”

“He is medically trained,” he says, more to himself than to me, but I don’t react. Khors is so arrogant, he’d reject an idea for no other reason than he didn’t want to agree with me. “There is a heavy guard presence there. Yes, he could be an asset, and I wouldn’t have to worry about him.” His eyes focus on mine again, refusing to acknowledge that he just mirrored my exact words. There isn’t an original idea in his head. “He hasn’t said a word about what he saw?”

“No, sir. He mentioned the chief was grumpy that afternoon, but hasn’t brought it up since.”

He nods, tapping his fingers against the desk. “There doesn’t seem to be an immediate threat, then. Very well… you’ve given me a lot to think about, Elas.”

“Happy to be of service, sir.” I gauge his mood, and decide I’m going to push my luck a little further. “Have there been any updates on the search for Ronan?”

“No,” he mutters, and relief washes over me as I fight a smile at his sullen disposition.

“Have you given any more consideration to using my skills to find him?”

“I have,” he says, fiddling with a pen before picking it up and tapping it against his chin. “Maybe these two instances can go hand in hand.”

“Sir?”

He shakes his head. “Just thinking out loud, Elas. Give me some time to mull this over. You’ve given me a great deal to consider.”

The dismissal is obvious, and I stand as he gets another faraway look in his eyes. “Yes, sir. I’ll await your command.”

His eyes flick to mine then, suspicion brewing in their green depths. It makes me question how oblivious he really is to what’s going on here, and a clammy sweat builds on my hands as he inspects me.

Wooden legs scrape against the concrete floor as he stands, and I hold his stare. I’m a few inches taller than him, but his people are thicker than mine. Blunt horns on their foreheads protect them from injuries that others would be susceptible to, and their natural muscle mass makes them a force to be reckoned with.

But the throat…

My eyes flicker down to his neck as I recall the way Commander Bravis was killed. Ronan always went for the jugular. It’s another sobering reminder of this high stakesgame I’m playing, and that my neck is not the only one at stake.

Khors walks around the desk and pushes his face close to mine. For a terrifying moment, I think he’s trying to get closer, as though he’s reading this weird tension as something more. His nostrils flare, and his pupils distend.

“Next time, shower before you arrive. You stink of him.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, and my throat bobs in a reflexive swallow. My mouth is dry, and my patience runs thin at this mask I’m being forced to wear. His eyes drop to my throat and a smirk spreads over his face.

He thinks I’m afraid ofhim,and my fists clench at my sides as I fight the urge to knock that smirk right off his mouth.

Khors doesn’t concern me—not on his own. No, it’s the power of the military that I fear. Power he holds simply because he was handed his dead uncle’s position. Influence in the hands of an idiot is more dangerous than the deadliest weapons.

“You’re dismissed, soldier.”

Soldier.Not Officer.

The slight stings, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. With a nod, I turn and leave the room, careful to maintain my usual unconcerned gait. My mask remains impassive the entire walk home, and I only allow myself to slip once I’m safely behind the door of my barracks.

“El?” August’s sleepy voice is raspy, and my irritation makes way for something much sweeter. I step into the bedroom and find him on his back, starfished in the center of the bed.

“Still asleep, huh? Didn’t take you to be the type to sleep in on the weekends, doc.”

“I’m getting lazy,” he complains, pushing the sheets down and exposing the broad expanse of his chest. Golden blonde hairs swirl between his pecs and underneath his navel, and I chuckle when he grips the small bulge of his belly. “Look at this.”

“It’s sexy,” I say as I stalk over, kneeling on the bed and leaning over to place a kiss on the soft roll. “Every part of you is sexy.”

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