Chills zigzagged through my body, icing my already frigid limbs.
“And, Ness, I left you some salve for your arm. It’ll help with the scars.”
When the door snicked shut, more water spilled out of my glass. I set it down, then ripped paper towels off the roll to blot my skin, the countertop, and the floor.
“Ness-”
“I’m so mad at you,” I hissed.
“I got that, but it’s done now, and I didn’t drop dead, so-”
“So that’s supposed to make me feel better?” I yelled, spinning around. “Greg just mentioned seizures. Seizures!”
He snorted. “You do realize this could’ve been you?”
“I do realize!” I breathed hard. “But if this hurt me, it would’ve been my fault. If this hurts you . . .” My voice broke. “I’ll never forgive myself if this hurts you.”
“Shh. It’ll be all right. I’ll phone up Cole. Get him to spend the night at my place.”
“No, I’ll do it. There’s no need to drag yet another person into my harebrained schemes.” After the ice, I now felt filled with fire. I bet smoke was wafting from my nostrils.
“You don’t have to-”
“After what you just did, you don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m spending the night at your place or you’ll spend the night at my place. Your choice.”
One side of his mouth tipped up with a smile. “If I’d known that was all it took to get you to spend another night with me, I might’ve injected myself sooner.”
I glared at him. Not because I was mad at what he’d just said, but because I was furious with what he’d just done.
His smile vanished. “Pack a bag. I’ll call a cab.”
“Have you seen this movie?”
“What’s the title?” Since leaving my apartment, I hadn’t taken my eyes off August, not even to glance at his enormous television screen.
He sighed and set the remote control on the arm of the couch. We were sitting on either end of it-me with my legs curled beneath me, and him with his ankle perched on his opposite knee.
“Please stop looking at me as though you want to throttle me.” His leg had been bobbing restlessly since he’d sat down. “It’s done. Let it go.”
“Let it go? Really?” I narrowed my eyes. “Until you shift-fully shift-I’m not going to let this go.”
He wrapped his arm around the back of the couch. “You’re going to stay mad at me for weeks?”
“Possibly even months.”
He winced so suddenly that my heart all but stopped.
When his fingers came up to his temples, I sprang toward him, almost landing in his lap, and palmed his forehead. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
His forehead smoothed out, and a smile overtook his lush lips. “You were sitting too far away.”
I blinked, and then I smacked his chest hard. “That was so not funny, August Watt.”
When I tried to crawl back to my side, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist and held me in place. His expression was gentle but serious. “I don’t want you to be mad at me even another minute.”
“I’m not mad. I’m scared.”
“I know, Dimples, but put your anger on hold for a second and look at me. I’m fine.”
I scanned him from forehead to chest. Even though I wasn’t on his lap, I was close. The side of my bent leg was flush against his thigh, and I could see every single dab of green and sable in his irises, every freckle dotting his nose and cheekbones.
I was way too close.
Heat snaking up my neck, I averted my gaze and wriggled away. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?” I asked, getting to my feet.
August stared at me fixedly, and then I felt a tug behind my navel that had my shins hitting the frame of the couch. I bent at the knees to absorb the listing.
“I wanted to check if it had affected the link,” he said.
Relief surged within me, washing away the awkwardness that had made me shoot to my feet. “It hasn’t!”
His eyebrows rose. “Why do you look happy about this? Don’t you want it gone?”
I froze like a robber caught mid-theft. From the intensity with which he studied my face, I thought August was going to see right through me.
“I do,” I lied, dragging my hair back, “but the fact that it’s still there means the Sillin’s not wreaking havoc on your system.” I hoped the excuse sounded believable. “How’s your sense of smell?”
Eyebrows still raised, he pulled in a lungful of air. “Still there, too.”
“But is it as strong as before?”
He lowered his gaze to the pulse point in my neck. “It’s hard to tell with you standing so close.”
I didn’t ask him why that was because I understood. I had the same “problem.” When I was close to him, little else penetrated my senses over his woodsy, spicy scent, and the steady drumbeat of his heart, and the sight of his remarkable body.
I hadn’t taken my dose of Sillin this morning, so my senses were sharpening again. Afraid my frenzied pulse would give away all I was feeling, I took a step back, then rounded the couch and ambled to the kitchen. “What do you feel like eating?”
August twisted around. “I’m not sure I have much back there.”
“I found some dried pasta and a jar of tomato sauce.”
“You don’t have to cook. We can order in.”
“Don’t underestimate my water-boiling skills.”
A smile ghosted over his lips.
“Why are you smiling?”