Page 61 of Molt

“It’s not a fucking mouth.”

I look at him. “You’re an asshole.”

“You told me to tell you.”

A crack splits through the glass.

Neither of us laughs.

“Back up.”

Another fracture branches from the first.

“August...”

“Lenora. Now.” He pushes me behind him.

The jar explodes.

I scream as glass tears across the apartment.

August turns and covers me before I even understand what’s happening. His body crashes into mine. One hand cups the back of my head while his other arm locks around my waist as shards scatter across the floor.

Something slices him.

I hear the sharp inhale and feel his body jerk against mine.

Then everything goes quiet.

For a moment, neither of us moves.

His chest is pressed against me. His face buried near my hair while his hand still cradles my head like he thinks the room might try to take it off. “Are you hurt?” His voice is right against my ear.

“No.”

“Lenora.”

“I’m fine.”

He pulls away enough to look at me. His eyes move over my face. My neck. Shoulders. Arms.

Checking.

Only when he seems satisfied does he breathe. Then I see the blood.

“You’re not.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

A cut runs along his cheek. Another dark stain spreads across his shoulder.

I reach for his face.

He catches my wrist before I touch him.

We both freeze.