Page 12 of Elas (Mate’s Mark #2)

Elas

“This is your surprise?” August asks as he walks out of the bathroom, freshly showered and wearing my clothes again. I could’ve gotten him his own. Given him things that fit, that belong to him and might give him a sense of independence.

I had time.

But knowing he’s covered in my scent makes me feel like he’s more protected.

He often laughs off the idea of how much danger he’s in, under some illusion that being on a military base means my kind will abide by any sort of moral guidelines.

The distinction between monsters and humans is a line he so readily blurs, not understanding that to us, rules are meant to be broken. Obstacles easily bypassed.

We may present ourselves in a civil fashion, but there’s always a monster lurking underneath.

And August would make delicious prey .

My eyes roam over his broad shoulders, covered by my t-shirt that hangs halfway down his thighs, then over his defined jaw, where a hint of blonde stubble catches the light behind him. My gaze moves to his mouth, remembering the flick of his tongue while he stared up at me.

“Elas?”

“Hmm?” Distracted, my eyes finally wander back to his as an amused grin forms on those perfect lips.

“Didn’t take you for a daydreamer,” he teases as he walks over, and I stare as a droplet of water rolls from his damp hair down the nape of his neck.

Xeni was too close to him earlier. Too fucking hungry. What would he have done if I hadn’t walked in when I did?

Kissed him?

More ?

Ever since I saw his hand around August’s wrist, something has been stirring inside my stomach. It feels an awful lot like jealousy, though I have no reason to be jealous.

August isn’t mine.

I have no claim over him, but suddenly I’m noticing every move he makes.

“Elas!” Loud, carefree laughter snaps me to attention, and I swing my wide eyes to his. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

“Sorry, it’s been a weird day,” I finally say, shaking my head and trying to rattle some sense into my brain. That pretty smile is so easy on his face as he drops into his chair.

His chair.

Cue another existential crisis .

“This is your idea of a good Friday night, huh?” He pokes the glass bottle of clear liquor in the center of the table.

“Isn’t it everyone’s idea of a good Friday night?”

He blanches as I grab two small cups from the cabinets. “It’s been a long time since I drank. This might be a disaster.”

“Lightweight,” I tease, and he chuckles again.

“What is that floating in there? Please don’t tell me it’s a worm, because I have hard limits, Elas, and an insect in my drink is definitely one.” He grabs the bottle by its neck and holds it up to his face as he peers inside, the curve ballooning his eye like a magnifying glass.

“Vanilla bean. I thought a weak little human might need something sweet to take the edge off.”

“Talking smack already?” August flashes me another grin and pulls the cups towards him. He works the cork loose with a squeak and a pop, cringing as he takes a whiff. “Oh, dear gods, that is foul.”

A loud laugh comes from deep in my belly as he wrinkles his nose.

He tips the bottle up anyway, and clear liquid glugs into the cups.

We clink our glasses together after he slides one my way, and I swallow it in a single gulp.

When my cup thuds back onto the surface of the table, August follows suit and immediately starts coughing.

Tears well in his eyes as his fist pounds on his chest, and I let out another bellowing laugh as he rasps a string of mumbles that might be actual curses.

I’m still laughing when he gets himself under control. “That is horrid !” His voice is raspy, like his throat has closed. “That’s poison, Elas! No better than drinking straight rubbing alcohol from the clinic!”

“Got experience with that, doc?” I ask as I pour myself a second shot.

He wipes away his tears with a harsh swipe of his hand as he glares. Dewdrop remnants cling to his lashes, though, and weaken his attempt to be tough. “Does it look like I have experience with drinking straight rubbing alcohol?”

“Based on those tears of shame, no.” Another rogue chuckle slips free as he rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Let’s get some food in your system before you drink any more.”

“More? You expect me to drink more of that poison?” he mutters from behind me as I pull a tray of sliced meats and cheeses from the fridge, along with a jar of pickles and a box of crackers I swiped from the galley earlier. August’s eyes light up as I place the food on the table. “Fancy spread.”

His eyes narrow as I refill his glass, and he drags the plate closer to him. “You think all that food is yours? You have to share,” I warn him with a lifted brow.

Never breaking eye contact, he grabs a slice of cheese and a cracker and shoves them in his mouth defiantly. “If you want me to drink with you, I need something in my stomach.”

“Lightweight,” I taunt again, and he scoffs as he picks through the sampling of food.

“Not denying it.” We take another shot, and his eyes steadily grow hazier. This alcohol is stronger than anything he’s used to, and he’s admitted he doesn’t drink often. As much fun as it might be to see the doc drunk, I’ll have to monitor him and make sure he doesn’t make himself sick.

He examines the cheese in his hand for a moment before shaking it in my direction. “Was there cheese on the other side?”

I snort a laugh at the goofy grin spreading over his face. “Yes, we had cheese.”

“Does that mean there are monster cows? Monster goats?” His eyes light up as he shakes his cheese yet again. “Moats?!”

“Sorry to disappoint, but there are no moats.” His smile twists into a disappointed pout, and I resist the urge to reach over and tug at that sweet bottom lip.

“There are several mammals that produce milk. The kravache is the most common. They don’t look like your cows, though.

An elk would probably be closer, but kravache have bigger horns. ”

“Bigger?” he asks in a slurred whisper. “I’ve never seen an elk, but I think their horns are…” He trails off and holds his arms beside his ears like antlers. “ Big. ”

I chuckle as he gives me a lopsided grin, his hands settling back on the table. “Yeah, doc. They’re bigger. Most villages had at least a few kravache, and their milk made amazing cheese and butter.”

“Did you live in a big village?”

A pang of sadness hits me hard as I remember the last time I stepped foot inside my parents’ house.

Knowing that the divide between the worlds was destroyed…

knowing our home no longer exists… it’s fucking devastating.

Decades have passed, nearly a century, but that’s the type of wound that never fully heals .

I clear my throat, my voice soft. “Not a huge one, no. There were less than a hundred of us.”

“Were they all your same… uh, species?” I huff a laugh at his uncertainty.

“Most were Nu’vak, yes. There were a few that weren’t… partners or close friends that had followed someone there. My people are generally pretty accepting of outsiders. We’re big enough that we don’t really have to worry about threats.”

August leans forward, resting his chin on his palm with his elbow on the table. “Are you the biggest? You seem like you’d be the biggest.”

That stirring deep inside my gut shudders at the innocent suggestion behind his words. Subconsciously, I push my chest out to make myself take up even more space, something instinctual wanting me to show him just how big I really am.

“I was the biggest in my village, yes. There are a few races that can grow larger than us, but not many. We are known as the fiercest warriors. Others may be taller or heavier, but none of them match us in battle… especially when we are protecting someone important to us.”

“Is that why you joined the military? To protect?”

Another of those pinches hits my chest, and I place my palm over my ribcage and rub at the phantom pain.

“No. There are very few diseases that affect our kind, but the ones that exist are devastating. They can’t be cured, only managed.

My mother was sick for as long as I can remember, and my father spent most of his time caring for her.

Things fell behind, because there just weren’t enough hours in the day.

I stopped attending my lessons because they needed me more. ”

“One day, a platoon came through and an officer approached me. He said if I enlisted, they’d support my parents.

They’d take on the burdens we couldn’t bear, even with the community behind us.

They did what they could, but everyone had their own families to look after.

It wasn’t that they didn’t help, because they did.

She just needed round-the-clock attention, and it was more than we could handle. ”

“I would’ve helped you,” August says quietly, and I nod absently as I stare at the table.

“I know you would have.”

“Did they keep their word?” My eyes move back to his in question. “Did they take care of her?”

“They did. Once I arrived at my first station, we could write letters. The military sent regular shipments of supplies to my father, so he didn’t have to hunt or scavenge. Once a week, they sent a medic in to track her health.”

“What happened to her?” His voice is quiet now and his eyes are a little foggy from the alcohol, but he’s trying to focus. He cares, that much is obvious. I offer him what I hope is a reassuring smile, even though it’s fragile.

“I didn’t see her again until the rifts opened.

Once we were given our orders and we knew we would be crossing over to this side, they gave us a week to get our affairs in order.

I spent mine travelling home. Her condition had gone downhill, but she still had that same giant smile on her face, even though her health had declined. ”

“You must get that from her,” he says in almost a whisper, and another fluttery surge rushes through my chest. “That beautiful smile.”