Page 67 of The Mortal Trials

In Morrigan’s army, I’d seen my share of men. Modesty wasn’t an option when we all had to get dressed together. But none of them could hold a candle to August Aymes.

Every inch of him is toned. He crosses the room, tossing the outfit he wore tonight in the corner next to the trunk. Firelight plays along the ridges of his chest and stomach, back and shoulders.

“Can I get you a glass of water or anything?” he asks when he reaches the table.

I shake my head. “I’m okay.”

August pours himself a glass from the carafe, savoring it for a moment in front of the window. His hair is already starting to dry. The lamplight gilds it, too. When he finishes his drink, he turns to me. “Do you want to leave the lamp burning?”

“Will you be able to sleep if you do?”

He nudges the pillow over to my side of the bed, pulls back the blanket on his side, and slides in, bending an arm behind his head. “If I can’t, it won’t be because of the light.”

“You should use the pillow,” I croak.

“I don’t need it.”

Silence stretches between us.

He stares at the ceiling. Breathes in and out, in and out. “I’m glad I trusted my gut.”

I smile. “Me too.”

“I heard something break,” he explains. “I didn’t know what it was, but I went to the door and looked over at your house. When I saw you hadn’t lit your lamp, I knew something was wrong.”

I sighed. “He came at me from behind and hooked an arm around my neck. I fought back, but he lifted me off the ground and flung me around when I dug my nails into him. I broke his nose and clawed him pretty good, though.”

“And busted his balls,” he reminds.

“And busted his balls.” I can’t help but smile.

“I wish he’d drowned,” he tells me. “Or been eaten.”

I blink at his honesty, as refreshing as the clear water he just drank. “Me too.”

“We should file a complaint about the leniency of the watery guard dogs,” he teases. A beat or two of silence. “What bothers me most is that I was happy to see him crawl out of the stairwell tonight. I was glad he’d made it. I was impressed he managed it.”

I nod.

August calls him a foul name and I laugh.

He smiles. “That’s the best sound I’ve heard all night.”

“Why are you so nice?”

“Did you miss the part where I tossed Torsten into the monster-filled water?” he asks, wiggling his brows.

Another laugh tears from my chest.

His grin fades little by little and he scratches his jaw, his stubble rough under his nails. “Why did you think I’d mind seeing you without your prosthetic?”

“Why’d you think I’d mind seeing you without a shirt?” I wag my brows this time.

“Seriously,” he adds.

“It bothers some people.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal. It’s a very big deal.

August is quiet for a long moment. “Your family?”