by T. S. Joyce
He watched her. That’s what Asher did—he was an observer. He watched her when she didn’t even know he was around. She wore every emotion on her face and made it easy to read her thoughts. Sure, he could read wisps of thoughts anyway. An empath, Odine called him, but it was more. He could sense more than emotional states. Sometimes he got words or phrases. If he listened hard enough, he could hear thoughts from people he knew. Strangers were harder, but lately, he could pluck thoughts right from Gentry and Roman, Mila and Blaire. And right now, as he reached for Ashlyn.
Asher.
She’d thought his name, so he allowed his lips to curve into a wicked smile.
Asher confuses me. Stop thinking about him. You’ll drop the bottle. Drop the bottle. You’ll drop the bottle. Ashlyn spun an empty whiskey bottle like Mila was showing her and Blaire. He kisses too rough. I always hated rough until Asher. Until him. Him. Until Asher. I like bad boys who are gentle, but Asher isn’t gentle at all. Stop thinking about him. Focus.
At least he wasn’t alone in this. Her head was spinning around him, too, like he was the eye of the tornado and she’d been swept up. He had been swept up right along with her, and she was the eye of his storm.
He’s a runner. Dad used to do that when things got hard. Run, run, maybe he would come back, maybe he wouldn’t. Focus. Shit! The sound of shattering glass shook him from her mind. This wasn’t right, being inside her head like this. He’d not only heard the words, he’d also gotten flashes of her dad—thick beard, young face, strong body. Her father had morphed in moments, older and more haggard with each frame. His beard had grown gray, and his body had shrunk until he looked emaciated. His eyes had dulled, his face sagged, his skin leathered, and in his hand had flashed a hundred drinks, one right after the other.
Asher frowned as Ashlyn bent down behind the bar. No wonder she didn’t let people in easily. No wonder Blaire’s absence hurt Ashlyn, but it wasn’t Blaire’s fault. She was a wolf now and had to hide it from Ashlyn for always. She couldn’t go back home. Her place was here with Gentry. But the white wolf inside of Blaire didn’t just hurt her. The wolf hurt Ashlyn, too.
He shouldn’t be stealing thoughts from her. It wasn’t right. She hadn’t meant to show him her dad. Asher was a thief. Normally that wouldn’t bother him. It never had before, but this woman was different. He wanted her to give him things willingly, not take them without her permission.
Ouch.
A wave of pain sliced across his palm, and Asher lifted his hand. There was a red, angry line, as if he’d cut it.
Inside, Ashlyn stood quickly behind the bar and stared at her hand. Crimson streamed down her palm.
Asher jerked away from the window and leaned his back against the wall of Winter’s Edge, squeezing his right hand to ease the burning of the cut. What the fuck was happening? He shouldn’t be linked to her like this!
Asher slammed down a wall between them, cutting himself off from her mind completely. Dizziness rolled through his head for a moment, and he swayed on his feet before he steadied out. He could smell blood. Her blood? The snow beside him was splattered with red that streamed from his fist. Shit.
He should go. He should hide this. Why did he feel ashamed? Fuck. Asher strode for the trail that would lead back to the inn, but his legs locked, and the wolf inside of him snarled long and low.
She was hurt. Asher stood there, chest heaving for three breaths before he spun and strode into Winter’s Edge.
“Girls only,” Blaire teased as he made his way behind the bar.
She and Mila giggled, but Ashlyn was clutching her hand to her stomach, holding a washrag. Clearly she hadn’t told the girls she’d cut herself.
Asher felt insane right now. The need to fix her was making him shaky. The first-aid kit was under the cash register, so he yanked it out, looked at Ashlyn, twitched his head toward the kitchen, and walked through the door, praying to whatever power there was that she would follow him. If she didn’t, he would carry her, and she would fight, because that’s how his woman was. She fought. Fought him, fought change, fought everything, even if she did it with a smile on her face and a ready joke on her lips. He fucking loved that about her, but right now, his control was slipping.
Ashlyn shoved the swinging kitchen door open. She looked pale as she held her hand gingerly to her middle. Her eyes were a clear blue when she asked, “How did you know?”
“I watch you.”
“Creepy.”
“Watching is what I do.”
“For your job.”
He wasn’t good at games, or dancing around questions. Asher didn’t feel the need to talk much, but when he did, he liked to say exactly what he meant. “No, I watch you. I like to make sure you’re okay.”
That drew her up short. Her pretty lips parted like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. A tiny thrill of victory zinged through him that he’d stunned her into silence for once, but it was short lived when he saw how red the washrag was getting.
Asher had always been steady under pressure, but right now, his heart was pounding, and panic seized him. She was hurt. Ashlyn was hurting, but he could make it all go away.
“I’m going to fix you,” he whispered, already knowing he was about to make a huge mistake, but unable to stop himself. “Don’t be scared.”
****
Asher’s eyes were such a strange color of blue right now; they almost looked silver in the fluorescent lighting of the kitchen. His face was twisted into something animal-like, his teeth gritted so hard the muscles in his jaw jumped as he trapped her with that otherworldly gaze. His body was humming with power she didn’t understand and had never witnessed before in her life. He led her by the hand through a hallway beside the walk-in freezer. He pulled her into the dark of a room, but didn’t bother turning on the lights of some sort of office before he shut the door gently closed behind them. His eyes glowed strangely.
He’d told her not to be scared, and she wasn’t…but she should be.
The first-aid kit clattered on the tile floor, and Asher brushed his fingertips down the outsides of her arms so gently her breath caught in her chest. Down, down he trailed his touch until he reached her wrists. He plucked the washrag from her fist, and she winced at the sting. It would need stitches. She’d been so careless, wasn’t paying attention, and now look. It would take weeks to be able to properly use her hand again.
Warmth trickled down her fingers, but Asher intertwined his hands with hers. The burn lessened as he lifted her hands above her head and pressed her back against the door. And then he stunned her into stillness when he kissed her. His lips were soft against hers, shockingly so for a rough man like Asher. Her hand was tingling, but it wasn’t painful like she’d expected. He squeezed her hand harder, but still, there was no pain…just that strange prickling sensation, as though she’d slept on her arm wrong and it had fallen asleep.
Asher angled his head the other way and eased his tongue past her lips. He was pressed against her body, but he didn’t trap her like his kiss earlier. This was different. The tingling stretched from her palm down her arm and into her chest, and though clothes separated them, she could feel his skin. It didn’t make sense. Here in the dark, they were becoming one, and her mind was numbing, dulling. Asher was a spider who had given her a soft bite, injected her with something that was putting her to sleep. This was happy death. A soft, helpless moan came from her lips as she kissed him back. He pulled her free arm around his neck and swayed with her, dancing perhaps to the heavy silence. Something was coming from his skin. It felt strange against hers, like a warm breeze. When Ashlyn eased her eyes open, their clasped hands were glowing slightly. Behind Asher stood a dozen transparent figures.
Ashlyn gasped and pulled away from the kiss. The second her lips disengaged, the figures disappeared, and the mist from Asher’s body evaporated.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, resting his forehead on hers. “They won’t hurt you. They can’t. I keep them from having any p
ower.”
“Asher,” she squeaked, fear trilling through her. “Are they ghosts?”
“Shhhh,” he hushed her as he massaged the back of her neck and pulled her into a hug. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Look, we’re alone.” Asher reached behind her and flipped on the light switch.
The sudden brightness hurt her eyes, and she winced. Her eyes adjusted, and she scanned the room. Indeed, they were alone.
Ashlyn looked at their hands, but they weren’t glowing anymore. Had she imagined it?
Asher loosened his grip on her and turned her palm over for her to see. Ashlyn gasped. There was no cut, no mark, no blood at all. Her hand looked like she’d never touched the broken glass in the first place. But Asher’s hand looked mangled. His entire palm was shredded. Blood welled up in the cuts, but not before she saw how deep and painful looking they were.
“What did you do?” she murmured, cupping his hand in hers as gently as she could.
Asher lifted his chin higher, his face completely passive. “I told you I was going to fix you.”
Ashlyn jerked away from him and pressed herself against the door. No, no, no, this wasn’t right. Asher had what? Taken her cut from her and put it on himself? Ghosts…glowing hands, glowing eyes…fuck. “What are you?”
His lip snarled up, and for an instant he looked like an animal. Not a sweet animal either, but a predator. “I’m whatever I have to be.”
“Tell me you aren’t evil,” she whispered.
Hurt flashed across his face, and he ripped his silver gaze from her, gave it to the desk against the wall. “You can run now.”
With a deep frown, Ashlyn reached for him, but Asher angled his body away from her, his eyes lightening even more. He swayed on his feet. “Run now, Ash. I’m hungry.”
The way he said the last part lifted gooseflesh on her skin. There was warning in his words.
Push and pull. Asher was a professional at confusing her. She looked down at the bloody washrag, then from the discarded first aid kit to her smooth palm again. She ran her thumb along the place she’d been cut, but her skin didn’t even tingle anymore. His hand, however, ran a river of red onto the white tile.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
She wanted to wrap his hand and ease his hurt like he’d done for her, but Asher didn’t want that, so she opened the door and left him there. The kitchen lights were on as she walked down the hallway, beckoning her with a welcoming glow. Behind her, she could tell the exact second Asher turned off the office light.
He really did prefer the dark.
It should scare her to give him her back as she heeded his warning and retreated from him, but it didn’t. Her mind raced around what had just happened, but the terror that should’ve seized her left her alone.
Whatever he’d done to heal her, it had hurt him to do it.
A creature of darkness Asher may be, but evil he was not.
Chapter Nine
This was the part where she was supposed to run. In every scary movie she’d ever seen, there was a scene where the ditzy heroine could’ve saved herself, but chose not to listen to her instincts.
Was that Ashlyn’s moment now?
She was freaking out. Shaking hands, sweating, panic flaring in her chest, racing heart. Her head said “flee and save yourself,” while her heart said “weather the storm.” Blaire was here, caught up in something Ashlyn didn’t understand. Asher was here, sitting on the throne of her confusion. Run now, Ash. I’m hungry.
Hungry for what? Okay, she liked scary movies, and she was no ditz. She also read paranormal romances for the publisher she worked for! He was some kind of wizard or warlock, and healing her had made him hungry. Hopefully for steak since she was not a fan of having been finger-banged by a cannibal.
Run now.
She’d waved to Mila and Blaire and walked out of Winter’s Edge with a sense of calm that had dissipated completely the second she stepped outside and away from his reserved demeanor. The panic set in as she’d speed-walked through the woods, probably teaming with ghosts because, apparently, those were real. She’d always believed in ghosts, but physically seeing them was a whole new beast to emotionally deal with. She’d ended up running the last hundred yards. Kind of. She’d never been super-athletic and was wearing snow boots with a heel, and she could’ve probably walked as fast as she ran. Then more freaking-out happened when she stepped in 1010 and immediately felt a chill on her skin. Asher had told her there was a ghost in here the day she’d arrived. The memory lifted chills all over her body and got her butt bookin’ it to the bedroom to pack.
A wizard! A ghost-seeing, dark-loving, cut-healing wizard.
No wonder Blaire and Mila had warned her off him. They knew.
Ashlyn sat on top of the suitcase she’d thrown everything into and zipped it quick, then dragged it into the hallway and muscled it down the stairs.
She stopped at the door when she heard the soft murmur of voices. As quiet as she could, she set down her luggage and looked out the front window, but no one was there, just the dark porch and the parking lot with her car out front. Confused on where the sound was coming from, she padded to the back door and listened intently.
Yep, there it was—voices. Blaire’s and occasionally Asher’s. Being the curious little kitty she was, Ashlyn moseyed on over to the window and brushed the curtain gently aside with the very tip of her finger.
This didn’t make sense, though. Asher and Blaire were indeed talking, but they were far away, all the way across the clearing of the back yard, nearly to the tree line. Ashlyn shouldn’t have been able to hear them at all. Hell, she shouldn’t be able to see them this well in the dark.
What was happening to her?
“You’ll be the one to get us all busted, Asher,” Blaire murmured. She looked angry, arms crossed over her chest, eyes blazing brightly. “Ashlyn is here for a week. Just…stay away from her.”
Asher turned, pulled off his winter hat, and threw it at a tree. He rounded on Blaire. “I can’t stop thinking about her. Can’t stop following her. The wolf—”
“Needs to be controlled, Asher! She can’t know about what’s happened! You know the rules. You know the consequences. God, Asher, please tell me you understand the consequences! I died! I died for those rules. Your father died for those rules. Ashlyn deserves a normal, happy life. I love her, and you’re going to kill her.”
“I won’t.”
Blaire shook her head, looking more furious than Ashlyn had ever seen her. “She isn’t some dumb human, Asher. She’s smart. Sooo smart, and your eyes are the color of the moon right now. Do you even have control anymore? Hmmm?” Blaire arched her ruddy eyebrows. “Do you?”
Asher squatted down in the snow and looked at the cabin. When he looked right at Ashlyn, she stood by the window, frozen in his icy gaze. She couldn’t drop the curtain even if she tried.
He sighed and shook his head. “If you want me to stay away, one of us has to leave. Ashlyn or me. If we both stay here, I’ll want to be near her.”
“Asher, she isn’t for you. Her life is easy, void of pain, and without darkness. I want it to stay that way.”
“And you think I don’t? You think I don’t know what I am, Blaire? You don’t think I know what I’ll do to a woman? You think I want to hurt her? I’d rather cut out my own fucking heart. I’m trying!”
“It’s not enough.”
Asher stood gracefully and strode toward the cabin. His eyes were almost white as the snow he walked across.
“Asher!” Blaire barked out.
“You win. I’ll leave in the morning, but I’m pissed and I’m hungry, and I want to fucking drain you right now for making me go. No more bitching at me tonight, White Wolf. You’ll stir up my demons.”
Crap, oh crap, oh crap. Asher was coming in fast! Ashlyn bolted for the stairs but only got halfway up before the back door opened.
She froze like a deer in headlights, one hand on the railing, one leg bent and up on t
he next stair. She scrunched up her face and dared a look at him. Only he wasn’t looking at her, but at her suitcase by the front door.
“It’s icy out,” he rumbled.
“You told me to run.”
Asher scrubbed his hand down the blond beard on his face and heaved a sigh, closing his eyes when he did. When he opened them again and leveled her with a look, they were back to their normal frosty blue.
“Sooo…you’re a wizard. I mean, you’re a sexy wizard, but you can do magic tricks.”
His eyes tightened to thin blue slits, and he pursed his mouth into a line. No answer. Great.
“You don’t have to leave,” Ashlyn told him. “I’ll go. This is your home.”
“I don’t have a home. I have places I sleep.”
Ashlyn turned, sat carefully on the stairs, and stared through the railing at him. “That’s sad.”
“To you. I’m happy with it.”
“Are you happy, Asher? I rarely see you smile.”
That seemed to draw him up short because he straightened his spine and angled his head like a confused animal. “Smiles don’t equal happiness to everyone.”
“To humans, they do.” She was fishing, hoping he would take the bait and let her in a little.
His lips twisted into a wicked smile, but he changed the subject. “Would you like to see my hand?”
“I don’t like the sight of—”
He lifted a perfectly smooth palm.
“Blood,” she finished quietly.
“Something about you makes me want to be reckless. I’m not careful enough around you. I want to show you things about myself just to watch your reactions. You confuse me. I’ve never wanted to shock anyone before. I like hiding, but with you, I get careless, and then I get this sick satisfaction when you don’t run away screaming.” His eyes flickered to the suitcase again. “Tonight was too much for you.”