Captive of Wolves (Bound to the Fae #1) - Eva Chase Page 0,46
venture to occupy your time?”
My eyes are keen, and August is too much of a novice at the art of deception to completely suppress the flicker of guilt that crosses his expression. Whatever it is he’s been up to, he thinks I won’t approve.
“I’ve just been restless,” he says. “I took some long runs to work out that extra energy, like you suggested.”
I hadn’t expected him to take runs so long he hadn’t returned when I finally took to my bed. Is there more to it than that, or is his guilt simply at the memory of how he lost control of his temper toward Kellan—and the fact that he needs to put that much effort into avoiding doing so again?
It would be much easier to fulfill my role if being lord came with the power of telepathy as well. But I’ve known August since he was a literal whelp, and I trust he wouldn’t do anything he believed could harm the pack. Whatever he might feel guilty about, it’s of a personal nature. I can be benevolent enough not to pry… for now.
“If anything should come up that you believe I should know, don’t hesitate to come to me,” I say.
He nods and lopes out—perhaps to take another of those runs.
Whitt heaves himself away from the chair with a chuckle under his breath. When I aim a sharp look at him, he gives me one of his wry smiles.
“For such a little mite, she’s certainly opening the fault lines wide, isn’t she?”
Then he saunters into the hall, leaving me stewing over how much truth there might be to that statement.
14
Talia
The knock comes just as I’m pulling my blouse over my head. Thankfully the rest of me is already dressed, other than I haven’t fit the wooden brace around my leg yet. I tug the hem of the shirt down to the waist of my jeans and sit up straight at the edge of the bed. “Yes?”
“May I come in?”
Even if I didn’t recognize August’s mellow voice, I’d have guessed it was him simply from the fact that he asked first. It’s not as if this is really my room.
“Of course,” I say, and find I don’t know what to do with myself.
August has never visited me in my bedroom before. He walks in with unusual hesitance, as if I might yell at him to get out despite what I said. As scary as he was when he attacked Kellan, he’s never been anything but cheerful and considerate with me. That’s probably why seeing his handsome face sends a flush over my skin like it does so often these days.
He might be kind to me, but he follows Sylas’s orders. He’s helping keep me prisoner. How can I have a crush on him? Apparently I’m still twelve somewhere in my head. Delayed development due to emotional isolation. That’s totally a thing, right?
Labeling it as some kind of delusion doesn’t make the effect go away, though. I just have to make sure I don’t start acting like a swoony preteen. If I will the tickling heat away from my face, can I make it leave?
It was bad enough that I started throwing compliments at Whitt and snuggling into Sylas when I was drunk on that syrup. What would I have done if I’d run into August in that state?
“Are you already serving breakfast?” I ask. The typical kitchen smells haven’t come trailing after him this morning. My head is still a bit muggy from my late night monitoring the sounds of the keep—I woke up earlier than I’d have liked, in the grips of a nightmare not quite loud enough to bring Sylas to my door.
“Oh, no, I’ll be getting right on that as soon as I’ve talked to you.” August smiles and shuts the door behind him, glancing back at it as if worried someone will notice.
A chill runs down my back. I can’t forget that I barely know him. That he’s fae, not human. That there’s no way for me to be sure he’ll be consistent in his kindness even when he’s following his own conscience.
I curl my fingers into the bed covers, ready to shove myself onto my feet if I need to. But August doesn’t make any aggressive moves. He walks closer, his smile slanting in a way that looks more sad than anything, and reaches into the satchel slung over his shoulder. He… winces? And then pulls out a small leather pouch closed off with a