Page 104 of Commanding Flame and Shield
The soft glow of city lights filtered through sheer curtains, gently illuminating the cozy room. Marcus’ guest room. I started awake, eyes raking over the shadows in the corners. Hand automatically raising to trace the blade that was still sheathed between my breasts. A familiar pulse of energy and scent of home filled the room, and my heart steadied. My mind lashed out and found my friends mostly unconscious. I turned to August, who was wide awake in the corner chair, watching me intently. As I had first watched him, clinging to the shallow steadiness in his breathing.
“You knew.”
It was a statement, not a question, and my heart sunk at the subdued anger there. I patted the spot on the bed next to me, but August remained like a sculpture of stone.
“You knew more than one thread led to you being hurt or slaughtered. You knew we could fail. And still...you went.”
“Come sit.” When he didn’t shift, heart racing, I whispered, “Please.”
The corner of those full lips quirked. “That’s a hard word for you to say.”
“Most people listen to me the first time.”
“Don’t start expecting that from me. Not when you pull this shit.”
“Come here.”
August took a heaving breath, and then crossed to sit on the side opposite me. I fought that desire to reach out and take his hands. Fought the warmth swelling in my chest. The shadows were heavy across his handsome, angled face, the exhaustion there evident.
“Yes.” My voice was soft, but unwavering. “Of course, I knew.” His eyes guttered in response.
“Why?” August’s buttery voice cracked.
“If I didn’t go, Marcus would have fallen. There wasn’t a single thread where he emerged.”
“And you’re worth less?” His demand was icy cold.
“Marcus has a family, August. A mate. A son and daughter. Yes. I would be less missed.”
That tortured gaze fell on my face, and guilt twisted in my gut.
“No, Ally.” His voice was quiet but strong. “You wouldn’t be.”
I went to open my mouth. Went to argue. But the agony in his eyes took the breath from my lungs. Exhaustion weighed heavy, having long since burrowed into my very marrow, so I only pursed my lips, and bowed my head. Fatigue drew my body back against the mattress, and August startled a bit.
“Ally?”
“I’m fine...Just...tired.”
His energy steadied beside me. I pulled the sheet up and over my shoulder to cover my arm again, curling into a tight ball on my side. There was the rustle of fabric across sheets, the shift of his weight on the mattress, and then the warmth of August’s palm against my back nearly froze my heart in its cadence. He stroked soft, gentle patterns there, easing the tension from my body with a steady flow of energy.
“August?” My voice had faded to a hoarse whisper.
“Yes?”
“Stay with me.”
When my eyes peeled open again, the soft gray of early dawn was filling the room. August’s breath was heavy against the back of my neck, his arm a warm, dense weight across my torso. The heat of his hard body cocooned me, muscled thighs tucked against mine, and groin pressing against my ass. Christ, it felt good to be held. His steady exhales comforted me, and simultaneously tore my soul into pieces. The reading he clearly no longer feared, so close to my skin. The delicious smell of him—dear God.
I tugged the sheet tighter around my face, and then the tears began streaming in heavy, salty trails across my nose and down my cheek. Guilt, sorrow, and longing dancing, tangling together in a messy braid, as my chest heaved in great breaths. Over time, I finally succumbed to the ache and the love of the soul wrapped around me. Finally submitted to the way August called to me. I found sleep once more.
“Coffee?” August’s voice drug me from the darkness. The room was warm with mid-day heat, despite a winter freeze nipping at its heels. I sat up, blinking the sleep from my eyes, to find a soft smile on his face, a steaming mug outstretched. Gratefully, my headache was mild after the energy we used last night. I accepted, and immediately sipped down the bitter liquid, grateful for the heat of it in my chest.
To his credit, August said nothing about the prior night, or the promise he kept for me, but sat at the foot of the bed. He sipped at his own mug and watched as I did the same.
“How are your ribs?” He finally asked, doing his best to keep his expression neutral.
“Better.” I stretched and twisted to test my claim, planting my hand in the warm linen sheets.
