Page 3 of Elas (Mate’s Mark #2)

August

“How’s the leg feeling, Janice?” Narrowed eyes glance up at me from her spot on the ground, picking at the blackened bread and dried-out chicken we were served for dinner.

They’re definitely feeding us whatever food the cooks screwed up for the day.

Yesterday’s peas were suspiciously soft, and today’s meal is hard enough to worry about cracking teeth.

It isn’t exactly the best cuisine, but at least we’re getting fed.

“It would feel a hell of a lot better if I was sleeping somewhere other than on a concrete floor,” she mutters, allowing me to roll up her pants and examine her swollen ankle.

Five days ago, she got pushed to the ground during the escape attempt and ended up with a sprained ankle.

Nothing’s broken, though, so she’s lucky.

“Well, while I can’t do anything about that, I have good news. Your leg is going to be just fine. Stay off it for a few more days so you don’t irritate it further, and it’ll be back to normal in no time.” I push her pant leg down and pat her knee with a smile.

“It’s not like I can go anywhere,” she mutters.

“Well, silver linings. You aren’t missing out on anything by taking it easy.”

“August.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re annoyingly perky?”

A chuckle escapes my lips as I rise, brushing the dust from my hands. “Lots of people.”

“Has anyone told you today ?”

I flash her another grin and toss her a wink. “Lots of people.”

A bright burst of light cuts through the darkness of the hallway, and the loud, metallic squeal of the hinges makes me jump. The noises in this place take a while to get used to. That creak of a door in a sunny, familiar building would be ignored, but in this dark prison, it’s ominous.

We don’t get many visitors, and those that come are on a strict schedule. This one is an outlier. Dinner was served thirty minutes ago, and the cleaning crew doesn’t normally pass through for another hour. Curiosity has me wandering closer to the door with the rest of the crowd.

A single set of heavy footsteps thump down the corridor.

They don’t seem to be in a hurry, meandering along in a lazy stroll until they stop directly in front of our cell door.

The hallway’s weak light is almost entirely blocked by his monstrous frame, forming a sliver of a silhouette around the beast of a male.

“I’m looking for August. ”

Surprise makes my brows flick up as everyone turns to stare at me. “Oh, uh, hi. Yes, that’s me.” I clear my throat, a nervous chuckle slipping free. “Apologies, you caught me off guard. Let’s try this again, shall we? Hello, I’m August. How may I help you?”

The others step out of my way as I walk to the door, offering a tentative smile to the person that stands beyond the bars.

He’s enormous .

Arms rest at his side that I’d wager are bigger than my thighs, and I’m no pixie.

My head cranes as I get closer, tilting my neck to look at him.

Muted blue skin only shows itself where his military leathers don’t cover, and he’s built like a tank underneath them.

Long, thin braids weave along his scalp before curtaining over his shoulders, and two small tusks protrude from his lower jaw.

A warrior, in every sense of the word.

But his eyes…

Despite the flickering lights and the oppressive gloom of the prison, an unmistakable happiness lives inside them.

They’re warm, even through his attempt to scowl at me.

A grin pulls on my lips, and his brows furrow when he spots it.

He gives a small shake of his head as he clears his throat. “ You are August?”

“The one and only, I’m afraid. Well, maybe not the only one here… wherever here is. How would I know, right? But I’m definitely the only one in this prison.” Sudden silence rings in my ears as I force myself to stop talking.

What the heck is going on with me and the rambling?

“Do you always talk this much?” There’s a touch of amusement in his tone, and I shoot him an apologetic smile.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me today.” He returns my smile momentarily, seeming to forget he’s pretending to be grumpy. I beam at him, but he quickly twists his face back into a scowl. “Well… you were looking for me and you’ve found me. What can I do for you?”

Keys jingle in his hand as he shakes them. “If I open this door, are you going to try anything stupid?”

“No, of course not.”

His pointed look is heavy with skepticism, and he arches a thick brow. Dark, assessing eyes roam over my body, and I hold perfectly still for his inspection. Life in the wilderness has taught me that when a predator is present, it’s best to let them make the first move.

And there is no question which of us is the alpha.

He must decide that whatever he sees is satisfactory, because a slow nod and the click of the lock follow. I step obediently into the hallway as he locks the door behind us, and he studies me again. “Come with me.”

There’s no other way to describe his movements other than he struts .

Shoulders thrown back, hips loose, with all the confidence in the world.

My eyes wander over his enormous frame as I trail behind him, nerves churning in my stomach.

I rack my brain, wondering why he would need to speak to me , of all people.

A rule follower, down to my very bones. A helper.

He stops abruptly, and I’m so focused on my thoughts I almost run straight into his back.

Another perfectly arched brow lifts on his face as he glances at me over his shoulder, and I smile a little wider than what’s strictly necessary.

He huffs a laugh and unlocks a door, and we walk into a room with a table in the center and a chair on either side.

I skid to a stop as my heart lodges in my throat. “Whoa, am I in some sort of trouble?”

“Should you be?”

My eyes widen, and he seems amused as a grin tugs on the corner of his mouth. “No?”

“That sounded like a question, August.”

My cheeks flame as I shake my head, forcing my voice to be more confident. “No, I haven’t done anything that would cause problems. I’m positive.”

Another rumbling chuckle rolls from his throat, lighter this time, and it confuses me further.

“You aren’t in trouble. Sit, please.” His movements are sleek and controlled as he circles the table, his footsteps silent despite his size.

It makes me realize the clomping steps when he first entered the prison were a warning. They announced his presence.

A thoughtful predator, then, not wanting to spook his prey.

Leather creaks under his weight as he sinks into his chair.

He cocks his brow at me again as I realize I’m standing here, staring awkwardly as I try to figure him out.

I snap to attention and drop into the chair, spine perfectly straight and hands folded in my lap.

Silence stretches between us, and I shift uncomfortably as he stares.

He doesn’t appear angry, just observant—watching me like he’s waiting for me to make the first move.

Eventually, I break. “You know, some people would consider it rude not to introduce yourself.” His thick brows are extraordinarily expressive, and the way they lift shows his surprise. “Not that I’m calling you rude,” I hurry to say. “Because that would be rude on its own, wouldn’t it?”

“Uh huh,” he drawls with a slow nod.

“And also probably not the smartest move on my part either, seeing as we don’t know each other.”

“Right.”

“Seven hells,” I mutter, leaning my elbows on the table and scrubbing my hands over my face. “I don’t know what’s come over me. Can we rewind the past few minutes and start over again?”

“Back to before you called me rude?” he teases, and I catch his grin when I peek between my fingers.

“That would be for the best,” I groan, and he snorts a laugh, more relaxed this time. I finally pull my hands away and show my face.

“I suppose it would be good manners to introduce myself. My name is Elas.”

“It’s really nice to meet you, Elas.” I offer him another smile and he chuckles, reclining in his seat and tapping his fingers on the table.

“You’re an interesting human, aren’t you, August? Your words don’t make sense to me, but you seem to be genuine when you say them.”

“Why wouldn’t I be genuine?”

He stares at me again for a long time. “Most humans in your position wouldn’t be thrilled to have a soldier leading them into an interrogation room. ”

I shrug. “You seem like a nice guy.”

His mouth falls open, and his dark eyes are shocked.

They’re almost entirely black, with barely noticeable segments of white around the edges.

His pupils are enormous, and the only way to spot where his irises end is because they’re flecked with tiny sparkles—miniature silver stars against a stark black sky.

“You think that I …” He gestures up and down his colossal torso. “… look like a nice guy ?”

“Well, yes, although I have heard a time or two that I have a tendency to be overly optimistic. So, are you?”

“Am I what?” He looks so utterly perplexed that a soft, snorting laugh chuffs from my nose.

“Are you a nice guy?”

A few nonsensical words sputter out, an argument that doesn’t seem to form, before he closes his mouth. He gives a small toss of his head, like he’s clearing out the cobwebs. “I suppose?”

“Well, there you have it.”

“By the gods,” he groans, huffing another of those amused laughs. “Cameron was actually right about you.”

I perk up, leaning forward. “You’ve spoken to Cameron?

I haven’t seen him since the raid on the camp and I wondered what happened to him.

” My lips tug to one side as I chew on the inside of my cheek.

“He was determined to get away. Honestly, as squirrelly as he is, I’m surprised he didn’t.

” His comment clicks in my brain and I glance back up into his dark eyes. “Wait, what was he saying about me? ”