Page 36 of Molt

“No.”

“Why?”

His voice hardens. “Because the more you remember, the faster this happens.”

I look toward the bathroom. Toward the tooth. “And remembering you causes it?”

“No.”

“What does?”

Silence.

I lean my head against the door. “August.”

He says nothing.

“What makes me molt?”

Nothing.

“Touching you?”

“No.”

“Being near you?”

“No.”

“Sex?”

His breath catches. Interesting.

“Have we had sex during this before?”

“Lenora.”

“We have.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“Does sex cause it?”

“It accelerates it.”

My stomach flips.

I don’t know why. I absolutely do know why. I remember being pressed against him upstairs. His arm around my waist. His mouth inches from my neck. My body reacted to him before I understood why. “What causes it?”

“Go to bed.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not advisable.”

My mouth falls open. “Did you just...”

“Goodnight, Lenora.”