My lids flew open. August was straddling me, my wrists cuffed in his hands. A line of blood seeped out of a thin gash right beneath hiseye.
I gasped. “Yourface!”
“My face isfine.”
“You’re bleeding.” I struggled to free my wrists from the vice of his hands. He let go, and I hovered my fingertips over the strip of skin I’d removed. I didn’t think touching the cut would staunch the reddened flow, so I wiggled out from underneath him, and then once I was sitting up, I tugged the hem of my T-shirt up to thewound.
“Shoot. I’m sosorry.”
“It’s okay.” He shut his eye as I appliedpressure.
The blood reminded me of my father’s. Except there had been so much more in thatforest.
I shuddered and shut mylids.
Large, warm hands clamped my cold cheeks. “Look atme.”
Idid.
“It was a nightmare. You’re awake now. You’resafe.”
I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth as I lowered the fabric to peer at the torn flesh. The hairline cut was already sealing. “I didn’t get you anywhere else, didI?”
He smiled. “Not for lack of trying.” He sat back on his heels, his smile flickering as his gaze dropped to the inches of bare skin between the band of my black underwear and the bunched-up cotton T-shirt I was stillholding.
I released the hem, and it fluttered backdown.
Palming his cropped hair, August turned to get off the bed, but I reached out and caught hiselbow.
“Can you stay with me? Please?” I felt incredibly childish for asking. “Just until I fall backasleep?”
Several seconds slipped by before he gave a nod so heavy it almost made me regret asking. I lay back down and tucked my hands underneath thepillow.
“I’ll try not to attack you again,” I said, pressing my cheek into the creased fabric that was damp with tears or sweat—perhapsboth.
I watched as August attempted to get comfortable beside me. He didn’t venture under the comforter. His long legs ensconced in a pair of gray sweats spanned the entire length of themattress.
“Did I steal your side of the bed?” I asked as he threw one of his arms over hishead.
He was sprawled on his back, his T-shirt riding up, revealing taut brown skin dusted with a trail of dark hair. I snapped my eyes closed, but the image was already seared behind my retinas and was doing strange things to my stomach . . . And lower. I squeezed my thighs and flippedover.
“I usually take up the entire thing,” hesaid.
I slid to the edge of the mattress to make myselfsmaller.
“What are youdoing?”
“Trying to give you morespace.”
Andmyself.
I needed morespace.
Hegrunted.
I didn’t flick him; I didn’t dare touch him. But he touched me. He dragged me back toward the center of the bed. Except his hands were nowhere near mybody.
“How did you do that?” I asked, part enthralled, part freaked out. Controlling another person’s movements without touching them resided in a realm of magic I just couldn’t wrap my mind around.And yes, I know . . . I could transform into awerewolf.
