Chapter 19 Wren #2
“I know,” August muttered through a sigh of frustration.
“I know. But…you can’t do this alone. If you want to investigate, then tell me.
We’re in this together, Loughty. I’m on your side.
” Wren’s expression must have reflected the conflicting feelings inside her, because as soon as the words left his lips, August’s expression shifted.
He tilted his head, eyes roaming over her face, before adding a soft and agonized, “You don’t trust me, yet… do you?”
Wren opened and closed her mouth.
Do I trust him?
She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
“I want to,” she whispered back, surprised to find that she meant it.
August gave a soft nod in response. His eyes darted back to the knife pressed against his throat. The corner of his mouth lifted a fraction, a hint of a smirk.
“Then how about you start by lowering that knife?”
“Why?” Wren matched his smirk, daring to press the knife an inch closer. “Am I making you nervous?”
“You do make me nervous,” August admitted, chuckling, “but not because of the knife.”
Wren blinked, taken aback. “Do you think I wouldn’t do it?”
August shook his head. “No. It’s not that.
I believe you’ve made it abundantly clear that you wouldn’t hesitate to jam a knife into my back…
” August craned his neck forward, the edge of the blade just barely piercing his skin.
When he spoke next, his voice was lower than before. Deeper. “But I don’t care.”
Wren flinched. “You don’t…care?”
For a moment, August said nothing. He simply dragged his hand away from Wren’s wrist, pausing when it landed on the hilt of the knife.
Wren tensed, lips parting in surprise, but didn’t back away.
She remained rooted to the ground, unwilling to break the eye contact that had fused between them.
Instead of pulling the knife away from himself, August dragged it down, stopping only when the pointed edge of the blade was aimed directly at his chest.
“Don’t you get it?” August’s voice reverberated between them.
His smoke-filled eyes locked on her face, unflinching.
“You can stab me. Wound me. Carve my bloody heart out. It doesn’t matter.
” The next words he spoke were a whispered confession, his voice hoarse, a desperation burning in his eyes.
“I already belong to you. I’ve always belonged to you. ”
Wren let out a shuddering breath. Her grip on the knife loosened, though she kept the blade aimed at his heart. “I swear to God, Augustine Hughes”—she shook her head, eyes welling with tears—“if you’re lying to me…if this is all some trick—”
He dropped her wrist, cupping her face gently with his hands. “It’s not.”
“—I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you ten times over—”
He nodded, thumb gently brushing the edge of her jaw. “Naturally.”
“—because…because I won’t be made to look like a fool again, like some idiot—”
August shook his head, drawing her closer. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“—and I won’t fall for it a second time, I promise you that—”
August sighed.
“Wren.”
She blinked, dazed.
“What?”
He brushed his thumb against her bottom lip. “If you’re quite done threatening to stab me, I’d like to kiss you now”—he smirked, a light flush washing over his neck—“if that’s okay with you.”
Wren’s breaths came in sharp, ragged inhales as she hesitated, eyes locked on his. “August…”
His name slipped out of her mouth involuntarily, the faintest hint of a whisper.
The knife clattered to the ground.
And then his lips were on hers.
It wasn’t the same kiss they’d shared before the final trial—hungry, desperate, rushed.
This was something else entirely. This was slow…
torturous. August took his time, gliding his hands down her back, splaying his palms around her waist. Every place he touched her burned.
An overwhelming warmth erupted beneath her skin, spreading down her legs, coiling around her stomach.
A soft, involuntary moan escaped Wren’s throat when his tongue brushed her bottom lip. She wound her fingers through August’s curls, tugging sharply. He hissed, rearing his head back, smiling against her mouth.
“I probably deserved that…” he murmured, wincing. “Though…if I’m honest with you…I kind of liked it.”
Wren rolled her eyes, biting back her own smile. “You’ve always been a bit of a masochist.”
“For you?” August whispered. “I’m more than a masochist. I’m a fool. I’m completely and utterly hopeless.”
August cupped Wren’s face and drew her closer.
His lips found her jaw, then her neck, before slowly making their way down to her collarbones.
It was agonizing. Feeling his lips against hers.
The warm peppermint scent that clung to him enveloping her senses.
But it wasn’t enough. Nothing will ever be enough.
August must have sensed Wren’s desperation, the way she arched hungrily toward him, begging for more.
He let out a low chuckle, smiling through a kiss.
This was a terrible idea. A terrible, stupid, reckless idea.
They were in no position to be doing this—let alone in the middle of Onyx Unit. Not to mention that Wren still found her heart torn between wanting to trust August and knowing that, at any moment, she might lose him forever. The boy she once knew…gone. Lost to the shadows for the rest of eternity.
“You came back for me,” Wren whispered, voice shaking.
August pressed his forehead against hers. “I would have ripped apart the seams of the afterlife looking for you.”
August dragged his lips back to her mouth, kissing her with a hunger that made Wren lightheaded. His hands found purchase against her waist, dragging her shirt up higher, brushing the soft curve of her back.
“Come back to my tent with me,” Wren pleaded, planting a small kiss along his jaw. “It would be less of a risk in Silver Unit.”
August groaned. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”
He was right, but God…a part of her didn’t care if they were caught. She just wanted more time. More him. Wren wound her hands around his neck, pulling him in closer, pressing her lips against his throat. August made a low, breathy sound, and it was enough to send Wren’s head spinning.
She needed more. She needed—
Getting into trouble now, are we?
Shock coursed through Wren. August must have felt it too, because he immediately pulled back, eyes roving over her face with concern.
“What is it?” he asked, panicked. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you not hear that?” Wren asked. A strange ringing had erupted in her ears. “That voice.”
August blinked. His lips were pink and swollen, cheeks tinged with a blush. He listened intently, shaking his head in response.
“I…I don’t hear anything.”
Nobody can hear me but you, my sweet.
Wren gasped, stumbling backward, putting distance between her and August.
Was she going mad?
It was the same voice she had heard earlier that morning. But…she had assumed that voice hadn’t been real. That it had been nothing more than a lingering by-product of her dreams.
I am no dream, Wren Loughty.
Wren flinched as the voice echoed in her mind once more. She staggered, chest heaving as she struggled to suck in a breath. August extended his arms tentatively, hands reaching for her shoulders, but Wren pulled away before he could touch her again.