Chapter 19 - How Many

When August emerged from the bathroom again, she caught a glimpse of something moving in her peripheral vision. She turned and saw Graeme poolside leaning with both arms against a wood slat wall while water fell over him from a shower head above. He reached up to push back his wet hair and run a hand over his face.

August's eyes followed the water as it streamed down his back. Her mouth fell open. Of course he has a perfect body. "Jesus," she whispered to herself. Him being a mythical creature didn't seem too far-fetched anymore.

She never imagined being with someone so… beautiful. She chuckled to herself. Big, muscular guys weren't her type. They always seemed so arrogant. And shallow. And obsessed with themselves. And not into completely average girls like her, which was fine, because if they were it would make her more acutely aware of her own imperfections. Was that what was going to happen now? She watched the side view of Graeme's naked body curiously, more aware now of her own body under the bulky clothes. The realization of the power and strength he had suddenly made her uneasy.

Beads of water were glistening on Graeme's beard, which he now ran his hand over before pulling his head back and turning the water off. He grabbed a towel from a stool nearby, and August quickly jumped into the bed and burrowed under the covers, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head for good measure.

"Ready for bed already?" she heard him call from the bedroom door a short time later. She imagined him standing there with the towel around his waist.

"Yep. So tired," she mumbled under the blankets.

She heard him walk to his closet and open it, but she didn't dare look. A few moments later, he gently pulled back the covers enough to reveal her face. Water had thickened his eyelashes into dark clumps framing his warm eyes. "Is there anything I can get you?" he asked softly. She silently shook her head.

He sat back in a chair next to the bed in a simple white v-neck t-shirt and flannel pajama pants and pulled out a book and reading glasses. "I'm not a virgin," he sighed without looking up at her. She didn't respond. There was no way he was a virgin, she knew that. It was an absurd question. He had probably slept with dozens of women by now.

"Just one," he glanced up at her from his book as if hearing her thoughts. "Years ago," he sighed again. "I left her when I left the pack."

August tightened the blanket around her and frowned behind it. Why was this information hard to hear? Why did one sound worse than dozens? Did he love the girl? It didn't matter. It didn't matter who or where or when. She didn't know him then. She didn't even know him now!

"Although there have been a few wolves…" his voice trailed off.

She threw back the blanket and sat up with big, round eyes. "What?!" There was shock and outrage in her voice.

He laughed heartily.

"Ugh. That's disgusting. And not funny at all," she grimaced at him.

"It was a joke. It got you out of your cocoon, didn't it?" his eyes twinkled at her.

She groaned and flopped back down, covering her head with the blanket. His laughter was still falling around her.

After a few moments he pulled the covers away from her face again. "So how about you, darling?" he whispered, leaning close to her. "How many guys do I have to rip to pieces to make sure they're no longer in love with you?"

She glared at him, but his eyes were warm, searching her. "No one is in love with me," she sighed. 'Although there are a few you could rip to pieces,' she thought. That would actually be interesting to see.

He was silent, his eyes on her. That wasn't an answer, but he sensed not to push for one. 'Fuck it, I need to know,' he thought. Her non-answer had jealousy unexpectedly gnawing at him. If he didn't ask, he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it.

"How many?" he repeated lower than he meant to.

"Are we really having this conversation?" she laughed nervously.

"You brought it up," he shrugged. "I hadn't even thought about it."

"Okay, well then… I'm sorry that I did."

Graeme glared at her, and she shrunk into the covers. Obviously this wasn't something that was worth pursuing, especially if it made her shrink away from him like that. He groaned and swallowed down the curiosity. It didn't matter.

"I'm sorry I upset you," he said. "You say I've saved you, but… I don't feel that way. I feel like I've failed you more than anything." He looked down at his book, closing it now and slapping it against his hand a few times. "Marius should have never had a chance."

"Let's not talk about it anymore," she snapped. "I want to forget about it." As if forgetting it were possible. "It wasn't your fault," she quietly added.. Her eyes wandered over the beautiful walls arching above her. "Are you sleeping in that chair?"