Page 43 of Elas

“Nothing about this is alright. Please, can you just…” He trails off, still hiding behind his palms.

“Just what?” A strange, exposed rawness builds in my gut as I wait for him to answer.

“Forget this ever happened?” he asks weakly, and I grunt my frustration.

“What if I don’t want to?” I demand, and he peeks at me from between his fingers. It would be adorable if I wasn’t so on edge. “What if I’m tired of denying that something is happening between us?”

“You’ve barely even touched me,” he whispers, and it snaps me out of my stupor as I take a few steps forward. The mark on his chest shines faintly through the fabric of his shirt, and the one on my hand sings for its match.

For its mate.

“You are wearing my clothes, sleeping in my bed, covered inmyscent,” I snap as he drops his hands, stubbornly maintaining my gaze even as the apples of his cheeks burna deep red. “Every morning, you wake up holding on tome.You talk tome…share your stories withme.I’ve barely touched you?”

My lip lifts in a snarl as I take another few steps closer, my eyes wild as I inhale his scent. “Tell me you want it. Give me the green light and I’ll make you forget what other people’s hands ever felt like on your body. I’ll erase all traces of anyone butme.I willworshipyou, August. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel this, too. That you don’t want this as much as I do.”

“If you want me like you say you do, then why are you afraid of me?” The soft, confused way he asks it is a bucket of ice water over my head.

“What?”

He gives me an adorable scowl as he gestures at me, his hands flying in his agitation. “You act like you’re scared to touch me. Ever since this… thisthingcame up, you’ve been treating me with kid gloves. The only time you aren’t terrified of me is when we’re asleep.That’swhen we touch, Elas.”

My mouth drops open to argue, to refute his ridiculous claim, but I realize I can’t. I’ve kept others from touching him, sure. Ran them away when they got too close to him. Hugged him and taunted and teased, but I’ve kept my distance.

He’s so perceptive that he noticed. Of course he did. Behind that cheerful smile and those shining eyes is a sharp mind that catches every detail. August doesn’t miss a godsdamned thing.

“You’re right,” I finally say, and his shoulders sag. “You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

“No, you aren’t,” he says without a moment’s hesitation, and fuck, how it cracks my chest open further that he’s defending me even when he’s upset.

“I am, and I’m sorry. Can we please, just… can we talk?”

He stares at me for a long time, then glances down at my shirt on his torso and the mess we both know is underneath it. His cheeks flush again. “Give me a day to calm down. I don’t like to have important conversations when I’m not thinking rationally, and right now, I’m all over the place.”

My shirt drapes over his body, hanging to his mid thigh as he climbs from the bed. He tries to walk past me, but I slam my palm into the wall to block his exit. “Where are you going?” I ask quietly, not looking at him as I breathe in his intoxicating scent that surrounds me.

His hand clutches my chin and drags my face to his, and my heart thunders as we look at each other. “To take a shower.” He bites his lips between his teeth before he mumbles, “I kind of made a mess.”

My snort of laughter eases some of the tension, but the levity vanishes as I stare into his eyes and spot the confusion that lives there. “Are you coming back?”

He can’t go anywhere.

Can’t leave this room—can’t be on this base unless I’m with him.

But he and I both know that isn’t what I mean.

“It might be best if I sleep on the couch tonight.” The invisible hands around my heart squeeze as I try to hide how much his words sting, but he sees it anyway. “Just for tonight, El. Just while we clear our heads.”

“Can we skip that part and fast forward to where you ask me to touch you again?” My teasing falls flat, though a shy smile tilts his lips. He lifts on his toes and places a kiss on my cheek, almost on the very corner of my lips.

“Cheeky,” he mutters, and I huff another strained laugh. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Clear the air, get everything out in the open.” The stress that died with his smile returns in full force as I realize the conversation I’ve been dreading has caught up to me. All the cards will be on the table now.

No more running from the truth, or how he might take it.

No more avoiding our reality.

“Tomorrow,” I agree in a whisper, and he gives me another sweet smile. He pulls his hand away, the ghost of his touch still sparking against my skin as he walks into the bathroom and closes the door.

August

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