Page 14 of Elas (Mate’s Mark #2)

Elas

Pounding .

In my head and on my fucking door. Sunlight burns my retinas as I sit up and rub my eyes with a groan.

It’s not even that bright outside, but my body is rebelling.

After I watched August pass out on the couch last night, I chugged a few more glasses of liquor to make me fall asleep.

It takes a lot to get a Nu’vak drunk, but I was determined.

The knocking starts again, and I snarl as I climb out of bed and grab some sweatpants. If I was petty, I’d answer the door naked. It would serve whoever it is right for interrupting my morning off, but it’s not just me living here now.

Another thudding knock.

“Fucking gods, I’m coming!” I bellow, and August releases a pitiful whine from his nest on the couch.

“Too early,” he mumbles, and I cringe apologetically for my shout, even though his eyes are closed .

“Sorry, doc,” I say. “Go back to sleep.” He nods to himself and tries to yank the blanket over his head, then remembers he doesn’t have one.

With a grunt, he grabs the neck of his shirt and tugs it over his face, exposing the tan expanse of his stomach.

I freeze, my eyes roaming over the gently defined lines of his abs.

A small, soft pudge of a belly bulges below his navel, with a trail of golden hairs leading underneath his pants.

I swallow hard, imagining how it would feel to run my tongue over his stomach, and wondering what waits beneath those loose-fitting pants.

If last night was any indication, he’s not lacking in that department.

My blood heats as he shifts his hips, letting that flesh on his belly form a soft roll that I want to sink my teeth into.

He settles flat on his back, his chest rising in a steady pattern of breaths.

Another knock pulls me from my head, and I growl as I swing the door open. “What?!” I demand, and the soldier standing in the hallway cowers. A quick glance at his uniform tells me he’s only a two row, so I give him a pass as I rub at my temples. “What?” I repeat, more rationally this time.

“Officer Elas?” he squeaks, and I heave a sigh as I nod and wave my hand for him to continue. “The new commander has requested a meeting with you.”

My brows pinch, a headache thudding under my skull as I give my head a small shake. “New commander? I wasn’t aware one had been appointed.”

“The official announcement hasn’t been made yet.

There will be a formal ceremony Monday afternoon, but he asked to see you personally before the communication goes out.

” This time, my brows nearly meet in the center of my face as I tilt my head in question, but it’s obvious the person in front of me is nothing more than a messenger.

“Now?” I finally manage to ask, and he glances at my almost-naked body before his eyes shoot back up to mine and he nods.

“He is working from the old commander’s office. I’m assuming you can find your way there?”

I sigh, thinking of all the ass-chewings I’ve gotten from Bravis in that room over the decades. “Oh yeah… I’m familiar with it.”

“Perhaps a change of attire before you head over?”

I snarl, and he backs up a step. “Thank you for your concern, soldier , but I know how to address my superiors. Do you?”

“A-a-apologies, Officer,” he stutters, and I roll my eyes as I slam the door in his face. August groans again, twisting his body to face the back of the couch and showing me the fine dusting of fuzzy hair across his lower back.

“Who was that, El?” he mutters in his raspy, sleepy voice, and a rough exhale leaves me at the pet name.

The air in this room is thick with his presence—the heady mix of his scent and mine, and the sexy rumble of noises he’s making.

They’re triggering emotions I have no business feeling, and I need to clear my head.

He’s hungover and half-asleep, and I have places to be.

“No one for you to worry about, doc. Get some more rest and drink your fucking water.”

“Yes, sir,” he mutters, already drifting back to sleep as I shake my head and storm into the bathroom, needing a cold shower before I put on my uniform.

“Name?” A Ramves female flashes me a sharp-toothed grin, her dark brown hair pulled into a bun. I cock my brow, unsure if it’s a horrible attempt at a friendly smile or if she’s trying to be intimidating.

“Elas. I was summoned.”

“Ah, yes. Please take a seat, and the commander will be with you shortly.”

I nod my thanks, exceedingly curious and disappointed that she didn’t call the new commander by name. Whoever it is either knows me or knows of me, though I don’t have the first guess who it might be.

A row of chairs lines the wall, and I drop into one directly in front of the door.

The leather of my armor creaks softly as my foot kicks underneath me, eager to get this—whatever this is—out of the way.

As much as I needed to separate myself from August to clear my mind, I’m antsy to return home.

Last night’s decision to drink so heavily wasn’t the smartest, and I’m not in the mood to do anything but lounge around today.

Minutes tick by, and I cross and uncross my legs a few times before putting my feet flat on the ground.

My elbows dig into my knees as my head drops into my palms. Fucking hells, I could sleep like this, but I force my eyes to stay open.

Underneath my boots, the floor is polished concrete, much like it is in every building on base.

Everywhere you look, it’s the same. It’s been the same for decades, one day blurring into the next until the past few weeks. Now that sense of normalcy has been pulled out from underneath me, and my universe has flipped on its axis.

In a matter of days, I discovered the prophecy was true, and that Ronan had met his mate. Then the prison break led to my oldest and closest friend leaving, and I’m struggling with the uncertainty of not knowing what happened to him.

And now August has become a permanent fixture in my life, and the confusing things I’m beginning to feel about him are messing me up even worse.

Physically, nothing has changed, but everything is so different.

“Officer Elas?” My head snaps up at the Ramves female's voice, and her impatient tone makes me wonder if she called my name once already.

“The Commander will see you now.” I nod to her again as I rap on the door, waiting for the customary grunt of acknowledgement before I turn the knob and walk inside.

My stomach bottoms out, dropping to my feet with a lurch. The top of a pale green head looks down at the desktop, scratching a note in sloppy handwriting.

“Sir?”

The head tilts up to meet my gaze, but it’s not Bravis like I originally thought. It’s another equally familiar face—one I haven’t seen in a lifetime.

“Ah, Elas,” Khors says with a broad smile, standing in greeting as I glance down at his chest. Four stripes decorate his uniform, and it yanks me out of my stupor.

I snap to attention, my arms rigid at my sides as he looks me up and down.

“I forgot what a giant motherfucker you are. Come on now, none of that. We’re old friends. ”

Friends isn’t the term I would use to describe our relationship.

This is the person who made my formative years in the military a living hell.

Memories flash through my mind of the times I’d best him in the training ring, only for him to retaliate with cheap shots to my back or below the belt.

The way we’d brawl until one of us was bleeding, or until Bravis ripped us apart and tossed us both into isolation.

Time has colored those years of rivalry into something rosy pink for him, if his smile is any indication.

“I appreciate that, sir,” I say, careful to keep my voice neutral. “I wasn’t aware a new commander had been appointed until I received your summons. It’s good to see a familiar face.” The bullshit leaves a nasty taste in my mouth, but I ease into a practiced, amiable smile.

“Yes, thank the gods I was available after my uncle’s misfortune.”

That information sinks in with an invisible sense of satisfaction.

Back then, I suspected there was a familial connection between Bravis and Khors.

He got away with too much in training, and his shitty performance was excused far too often.

His daily fuck ups would have resulted in days of punishment for any of us, but not him.

Repercussions rolled right off his back, and now I know why.

“We were devastated to hear what happened to him.” We weren’t. “It was such a tragedy to lose a formidable leader.” It wasn’t. “His presence will be greatly missed.” It won’t.

“Yes, yes, it was truly awful,” he says, but the words come out as practiced and insincere, with zero inflection or emotion behind them. Moving on from his awful display of mourning, he claps his hands and rubs them together. “Right. That’s why I’ve called you here.”

“Sir?”

“I’ve been catching up on the official paperwork, and I just can’t make sense of what actually happened.

The fire, yes, that’s obvious, but… no one knows why Bravis was at that location.

The reports state the structure burned to the ground, but there’s no explanation to how it started.

A random, rundown house that hadn’t been inhabited for ages shouldn’t be a fire risk. And then there’s the other question.”

His eyes move to mine, a deep green that reflects the overhead lights as he studies me. When the silence becomes uncomfortable, I ask, “Other question, sir?”

“Hmm?” He’s pulled from whatever had invaded his train of thought, and his attention sears into me once more.

“Yes. Ronan.” My heart slams against my ribcage as I force myself not to react, steadying my breaths and refusing to fidget as he leans forward.

“You and Officer Ronan are old friends, aren’t you? ”

“We are,” I say carefully. There’s no point in lying. Ronan and I have been stationed together for our entire careers. Dozens of officers could attest to our close relationship .

“Did you know he was there, too? Strange, isn’t it? That he would be at the same location right before Bravis was murdered.”

I force another calm inhale. “Murdered, sir? My understanding was the fire killed Bravis.”

Khors stares for a long stretch, his scrutiny nearly unbearable.

He’s searching for signs of lying, but he won’t find any.

Aside from knowing why Ronan was at that house, I’m as clueless as everyone else.

Over and over, I’ve tried to analyze what might’ve happened—how he was caught and what he did when he was backed into a corner.

Ronan might be a gentle soul at heart, but he’s fiercely protective of the few he loves. If his mate was threatened, all caution would’ve been thrown to the wind.

After a few long seconds of staring, Khors must decide I’m telling the truth. “It appeared that way at first glance, yes, but an examination of the body determined he was stabbed.”

Another mad rush of adrenaline pumps through my veins. “Stabbed, sir?”

“Mmm, straight through the neck. Internal decapitation.”

“That’s awful.”

He nods again as he picks up a glass of amber liquid from his desk, swirling it thoughtfully.

The punch of alcohol hits me in the nose and I fight not to gag at the smell.

“The officer with him was stabbed as well. Through the heart.” He makes a mindless stabbing motion with his hand as he takes a sip.

“Do you know why Ronan was there, Elas?”

“No, sir,” I say, almost too quickly, and he taps his finger on the desktop.

“Hmm,” he grunts. “I suppose that means you don’t know why Commander Bravis followed him there, either?”

“Sir, I don’t have any idea how they ended up in the same location if they weren’t together.”

He waves his hand distractedly. “Ronan used a vehicle from the transport yard. The tracker would’ve told Bravis any information he needed about where Ronan was driving.

It’s a shame he discovered it, or else I’d have him in custody already.

” My pulse speeds into a rapid thump as I absorb that information.

Of course they are tracking us.

There’s no way the military wouldn’t be keeping tabs on their investments—vehicles and bodies—and I’m an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

“What I don’t understand,” he continues, swirling his drink again, “is why there was no official report from Bravis about why he was following Ronan.”

“You think he suspected Ronan of something?”

“I’m almost sure of it,” he says with a haughty sniff. The sound tells me no matter how much time has passed, Khors still holds a grudge against Ronan for standing up to him all those years ago. It’s a reminder not to drop my guard around his nice-guy act.

“The problem is, I can’t prove it,” he continues. “But why else would he ask to be alerted any time Ronan checked out a vehicle? Why follow him? Something was going on there, and it feels personal. Otherwise, Bravis would’ve filed the paperwork. ”

“What can I do to help, sir?” The words are ash on my tongue, but I know better than to show my hand. With any luck, Khors will be as influenceable as he used to be, and I can force myself into the loop to find out what’s happening. Let him feed me information instead of digging for it myself.

“You would turn against your friend?” he asks, arching a brow and pulling the corner of his lip between his teeth.

“Anyone who betrays our kind is no friend of mine, sir.”

He stands, leaning his palms onto the desk and narrowing his eyes, trying to stare all the way into my soul. “Very well, then. Any special assignments to track Ronan will be yours. But Elas?”

“Yes, sir?”

His lips pull back into a smirk, morphing him into that same cocky young male from a lifetime ago.

“Betray me, and I will make sure you pay. You had a certain… aversion to small spaces, if memory serves me correctly.” A mean snort of a laugh huffs from his nose.

“Gods, I still remember the way you’d scream. ”

My eyes are steady as they meet his, not allowing myself to show him how much the memories affect me. “It is an adequate threat, sir, but unnecessary. I’m yours to command.”

“See that it stays that way.” He walks around the desk and clasps me on the shoulder with a grip so hard it sends a shot of pain down my arm. “I’ll be in touch.”