Page 67 of Commanding Flame and Shield
There was no hint that the lake house belonged to some wealthy city slicker. August was something of a closet millionaire. His shoes were basic, his watch from Target, and his home was humble—a small white cottage, nestled in a broad circle of towering aspens, kissing the sharp decline of the beach. His hideaway had one cozy bedroom, and a loft that he used as an office, with a pullout sofa.
A welcoming white kitchen held an island of gray granite, which was the only place to eat. An espresso pod machine sat on the main L-shaped counter, with a simple glass bowl holding the little aluminum pods next to it. Only the stove revealed any semblance of extravagance, a fancy stainless steel, eight burner gas range with two ovens. Curiosity burned as I wondered if he knew how to use it. The inside was cozy and rustic—sage green, warm yellow and wood accents made up the entirety of the color palette.
Alec and Fae had excused themselves to bed, claiming they’d danced the night away, and we all had an early morning. They reminded us of the urgency of needing to return home to guard the gate between dimensions before Samhain. But it was their words outside the bar that replayed, echoing inside my skull.
“So,” Alec said with a smirk as we walked just out of earshot, giving August a moment for goodbyes with the boys. “What stage are we in?”
My brows pinched together in confusion. “Wardings, dummy. Then to the lake house.”
He snorted, Fae mirroring his amused expression as she hung off his arm, our steps slow as we lingered on the street corner.
“Yes, Ally,” his tone dripped in condescension, “I'm well acquainted with our agenda. I meant in missionAcquire August Porter.”
“Alec,” I scolded, glaring back at mischievous amber irises.
“Ally,” he drawled, mirroring my tone. "Seriously. What’s the plan? The entire bar watched you two eye-fuck each other all night. Half expected you'd just burn his clothes off.”
Fae burst into unapologetic laughter, burying her face in his bicep.
“No plan, asshole.” I lengthened my stride, but they just mirrored the motion.
“Ahh,” Alec breathed, turning down to Fae with mock-surprise etched across his features. "Good. Denial. Next phase—acceptance,” he hissed dramatically. When he caught my glare, he just chuckled. “Seriously though, Ally. Either you have your way with him, or I will.”
"And on that note—not just so you can get laid,” Fae interjected, earning another snort from her mate. “I mean it's long overdue, don't get me wrong. But we need to know everything we can about what he is—what's coming for him.”
“Plus, if you can wake up those memories, he won't take as much instructing. As it is, Aren and Ansel are planning on a more aggressive method if he doesn't wake up soon. You're still his sire, even if you start hooking up—his training comes first. You owe him this.”
You owe him this.Those were the words that were stuck on a loop as I watched August reach for earth-toned mugs off the open shelving, intending to pour us cups of tea. I was trying to shake the nerves of anticipation that had settled in my stomach. The alcohol had worn off as we guarded Sam and James, but the tension between us had yet to dwindle.
We were both in our pajamas, August wearing a pair of loose grey sweats and a simple white t-shirt that hugged his muscles tighter than I would have liked. His hair fell in messy waves across his forehead, and it took a great deal of effort to stop thinking of how they would feel between my fingers. It seemed as desire grew between us, it had taken on a life of its own, and I was desperately trying to keep control of a flame that had gone wildly off course.
Some jazzy instrumental music that he loved was playing from the stereo system in the back corner. While it was faintly similar to Miles Davis, I couldn’t quite place the name of the artist. Jazz had never been my forte. But August was humming under his breath to the melody and his familiar voice had me entranced.
His smile was soft as he handed me my mug of chamomile, and then he jerked his head to the corner, where a small piano sat against the window, in the place a dining table would normally be. I padded across the soft rug, pulling down at the hem of my shorts, suddenly wishing I’d opted for pants.
August set his cup on an end table beside the instrument, sat down, his chest rising steadily, and used voice command to silence his stereo. Then he began to play. A million memories and sensations rushed through me so quickly, I couldn’t tell if they were past or future, and I stared at him, mesmerized, as his broad hands rushed across the keys fluidly. The melody felt as optimistic as August was, light and content as a music box tune. His eyes were closed as he felt his way through the song, which came to a light end, full of promise.
I smiled at him when he opened his eyes. “You know, I can’t wait to hear you in another century or two.”
“Damn. I never thought about that. Getting to learn for consecutive lifetimes. That’s kinda amazing,” he said, closing his eyes again as he leaned into his instrument. I pressed my warm mug to my lips and breathed in the sweet smell of the tea, soaking in his wordless serenade. Finally, as his song moved towards another soft, sweet close, I gathered my courage.
“August?”
“Hmmm?”
“Can I read you?” I said it with more certainty than I felt. He stopped playing, and turned to look at me, eyes piercing into mine for a long moment before tracing my lips and raking over the rest of me. He looked back up, amusement playing at the corner of his lips.
“Why now?”
“Because I see you. But I need to know you.” I looked down at my hands, nerves burrowing into my belly. “To know what our story is, if my intuition is correct that there is one. I would really love to get inside of you.”
He raised his eyebrows, amusement on his mouth again. “That’s what he said.”
“Oh jeez, you know what I mean,” I scolded, rolling my eyes. But then I laughed, and shook my head.
“Sureyou want to get to know me?” We locked gazes for a long time, unwavering. Finally, I nodded. Our faces were only inches apart, sitting side by side on the piano bench. “And this is important to you?” His tone was quiet but playful.
“Incredibly.” I didn’t hesitate.
