When she noticed his presence, she smiled. “Ash! You’re home already? I must have lost track of time. I just can’t get this thing to work.”
He looked down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. “Um. I need to talk to you.”
“Is everything okay?” she asked, wiping her hands with a towel. She could see from his expression that it wasn’t. When he didn’t answer, she pulled off her lab coat and tossed it onto a chair. “Let me just get cleaned up first, okay? I’m covered in grease and grime.”
Amara walked past him, quickly climbing the flight of stairs leading out of the basement. Asher stared at her retreating feet, following slowly. He watched her heels alternating as she scaled the second flight of stairs leading up to the master bedroom’s ensuite bathroom. He continued to follow her silently, watching as she turned on the shower—she always let it run for a few seconds so the water could get warm before she stepped in. Humming lightly, she moved to slip off her blouse, and Asher moved forward to grab her wrist. She turned to him in surprise.
“Mara. I need you. Right now.”
“I…”
She forgot what she had been about to say as she felt her clothes torn off of her in an instant. They went falling to the floor along with her cell phone which had been in one of her pockets, and now slid across the bathroom tiles. Asher advanced on her, pushing her backwards into the shower stall until her back was pressed against the tiles, with the stream of water soaking both of them. He crushed his lips to hers, grinding his fully clothed body into her naked one and furiously kneading her breasts with his hands.
“Ash!” she gasped, as his angry kisses covered her cheeks and neck. She felt his teeth graze her skin, and had the fleeting impression he was trying to devour her body. She let herself relax in the familiar feeling of his hands roaming her flesh, massaging the places she most loved to be touched. She murmured softly, “I don't know what's gotten into you, but I like it.”
He growled and pulled at his belt buckle clumsily. The buckle ripped clean off the leather belt, and Asher tore at the front of his pants, causing a rip down the middle parallel to the zipper. He wasn’t wearing any undergarments, so his erection immediately popped out of his pants. Amara reached forward to feel his member, but she felt him grasp her hand and pin it to the wall. Locks of dripping, dark wet hair hung over Asher’s eyes, concealing his emotions from view.
“Ash?” she asked softly in confusion. She was startled when he reached down and grabbed behind her thigh, pulling her leg up and hooking it around his waist. His erection rubbed tantalizingly against her vulva, which had been exposed by the new angle of her hips. She stifled a moan of pleasure when she glimpsed the crazed look in his eyes as his dark lashes blinked away droplets of water from the shower. Were they from the shower? It occurred to her that something was terribly wrong, and Asher was using sex to avoid the problem.
He held onto her so tightly, so desperately, that she felt a bit of fear stir within her heart. When his lips descended on her face again for more passionate kisses, she imagined she tasted the slightest bit of saltiness in the water sliding over her lips.
“Ash—” she began, but she was cut off by him entering her. The surprise and brief initial pain were quickly overshadowed by the all-consuming pleasure as Asher firmly grasped her thigh and forced her body into the wall with the pounding of his hips. She found herself unable to control her moans, or to do anything but clutch at him tightly with her free hand as he hammered himself into her.
The warm water from the shower caressed both of them as they gasped together from the euphoric spell of the lovemaking. Amara couldn’t help but feel secure in his embrace. Her eyes were closed as she let her consciousness drift away on waves of ecstasy. She sometimes wondered how she had lived before these moments. She sometimes wondered if she lived only for these moments. Asher began to grunt and quicken his pace as he approached his climax, and Amara felt herself almost screaming with the intensity of the sensations.
With a few final, carnal thrusts, he spilled his seed inside of her.
They remained unmoving in each other’s embrace for what felt like several minutes, with their bodies still connected. Amara had let her head fall limply against Asher’s chest as the shower washed away the sweat and bliss from their bodies. Both of their breathing synchronized, and their individual heartbeats assumed a perfectly harmonious beat. It was the epitome of comfort.
Except for the fact that tears were sufficiently gushing from Asher’s eyes. Amara could not have known this, for they had blended with the water of the shower. Asher’s emotions had sought a location where they could camouflage themselves into their surroundings and quietly go about undetected.
After some time, when he felt he could speak without his voice breaking, he finally spoke.
“Mara,” he began. For the first time in several minutes, his breathing was no longer synchronized with hers. He was holding his breath.
“Mmmm?” she murmured softly, snuggling against his chest.
“It’s over between us.”
Amara’s hand had been absently stroking his back, and it paused in mid-stroke. “What?”
He abruptly pulled out of her, and dropped her leg. His warmth being ripped away from her insides was devastating. She stumbled back against the wall, slightly off balance without his support, and mentally knocked off balance by the words she thought she’d heard. She stared at him, trying to understand.
He repeated it, slowly. “I’m leaving you.”
“What?” she said again, dumbstruck. She almost felt as though this was a joke, and she was yet awaiting the punch line.
“I came here tonight to break up with you. I just needed to have you one last time.”
The fear began to mushroom in her heart, and her expression changed into one of horror. She launched herself forward at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and staring up into his eyes in bewilderment.
“Ash, please. This isn’t funny. Let’s not play games like this. What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” he answered, peeling her off of him. The misery of the moment began to spread through his mind and ached more than anything he had ever felt. He had to get this over with. “I can’t be with you anymore.” There was a long silence as she simply stared at him. He turned to leave, not wishing to hear her response.
“Ash? Asher Burnson! Good Sakra, don’t you dare walk away from me!” Her voice came out desperate and broken. She grabbed at him, gripping his shoulders frantically. “What on earth are you thinking?”
“It’s for the best.”
“For. The. Best?”
He tried to leave again, but he felt her hands wrap tightly around his midsection. He felt the small sobs which had begun to shake her body.
“Ash, how can you make love to me and leave me? Why are you doing this?”
He reached towards the wall and turned the shower off to emphasize his next words. As he turned off the shower, he was also able to turn off his own tears.
“This—you and me—it was all a mistake…”
“What the hell!” she cried hysterically. “Ash! You don’t mean that. I know you love me…”
His jaw worked for a second before he turned and pinned her against the shower stall. He urged himself to say something cruel and terrible. He urged himself to say something she would never forget, and never forgive him for. He saw the look of fear and hurt in her eyes, and his mouth moved on its own: “I don’t love you. But thanks for the great fuck.”
Something flashed in her eyes and she screamed. Amara’s fingernails went to his neck and tore at his skin murderously.
“How dare you! How dare you!” She worked herself up into a frenzy as her arms flailed and her voice wailed. “Ash! How can you do this to me? Are you fucking possessed? You bastard!”
He stood there in shock for a moment as she tore at him and screamed his name desperately. What had he expected? That she wouldn't care that he was leaving her? That she would
shrug and casually go about her business? He had expected anything but this. Anything but this violent outburst from the sweetest girl he knew. He was startled at the sight of blood dripping down Amara’s arms, and perplexed by the knowledge that it was his. He’d forgotten she was even strong enough to tear his skin.
After his stupor wore off, he easily clutched her small wrists within his hands. He held her firmly until she stopped struggling, and her shoulders shook with huge sobs.
“Ash,” she whispered. “Why? Why now? What have I done?”
He saw that her energy had gone, and he felt her wrists hanging limply in his hands. He wanted to pull her against him and hold her, and cry and apologize, and tell her that everything would be alright. Instead, Asher released her wrists. He didn’t realize that his grip had been the only thing keeping her standing, and she slipped to the floor in a crumpled heap.
Amara didn’t even feel the cool tiles against her naked back as she looked up at him with the eyes of a wounded animal. He felt as though he had carved a hole into his own chest with a dull knife. He was sure she felt even worse.
“Why?” she asked again, her eyes glittering. Large droplets collected on her blonde lashes before spilling onto her cheeks.
“We’re just not meant to be,” he answered, his face expressionless. He amazed himself at how easily he was able to conceal the earthquakes that were shaking his core.
“Ash,” Amara gasped through her sobs. “You don’t mean that…”
“If I had to choose whether to move forward with you, now or never, I would choose never.”
“Ash! I’m not asking for more. We don’t have to ‘move forward.’ I just want to be with you. Aren’t we happy together?”
Yeah, Mara, he thought to himself with nausea. We were happy. But I have to ruin this now before things get out of control. I don’t want you to end up like my mother. Instead of being honest, he chose to attack her. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you fawning over those wedding magazines. You’re not going to drag me into that crap…”
“Ash! Sure, I hoped for that—but I don’t need labels or ceremonies. I just need you! I just need you beside me, close to me! Please…”
“No. You need a fucking puppet to play your little womanly game with you. I’m through with this.”
“Please don’t do this, Ash. I love you. I have loved you since I was a little girl.”
The picture of his angel lying naked at his feet, with his blood staining her pale skin and her blue eyes brimming with tears was simply too much for him. She had her arms wrapped around herself tightly as though she were trying to keep herself from falling apart.
He swallowed, and turned his back as his own eyes began to water again. He could no longer keep his face cold and emotionless, and he shut his eyes tightly. He clenched his fists and spat out in one last heartless stab:
“Get over it.”
The words rang now in Asher’s mind as he lifted himself off the cot and stepped towards Amara. There was no way, no possible way that he could ever compensate for what he had done to her. No way that he could even think to apologize. He didn’t even have the right to look at her as he had been; but yet, here she was. She had kept an eye on him while he was recovering from his injuries. She had obviously been sitting here for hours, judging by the number of fashion magazines that were piled up on the table to create a makeshift pillow.
He should at least thank her for taking him to India for healing. He would have woken up in considerably more pain if she had not helped him. He took a step toward her, but then he immediately pivoted and began to walk away. He couldn’t face her. He simply couldn’t.
“Ash?” came a soft whisper. He froze, and glanced back over his shoulder. She was stirring awake slowly, and rubbing her eyes.
“Hey. Thanks for watching over me, Mara. I must have been in there for hours.”
Her large blue eyes blinked open. “Days.”
“Days?”
“Yeah. Thorn was a jackass for letting this happen. You really got owned. Badly.”
Asher was surprised to see the ghost of a playful smile dance across her lips, and he found himself drawn to her. His legs carried him over to sit across from her at the table before she could protest.
“Mara,” he began. Then he caught himself. What am I going to say? How am I going to say this? There was a long moment of silence as his wheels turned soundlessly.
She leaned her chin on the palm of her hand as she stared at him impatiently. “Yeah?”
“I… just…” He grimaced at the awkwardness. “I see you’ve been doing some light reading. Anything good?”
Her eyes glanced down at the pile of fashion magazines and she frowned. “Yeah. Apparently thigh-high boots with studded heels are coming into fashion for the fall. Is there anything else you want to talk about?”
Her new ability to read minds made conversations extremely challenging for Amara. She very much hated people not getting to their points, and dancing around the important subjects.
“Nah,” said Asher, moving to stand. “That’s good to know. About the boots. I’ll dig mine out of the closet.”
“Ash,” she interrupted, refusing to smile at his joke. “Sit. Talk.”
He obeyed instantly, and looked down at his hands on the table sheepishly. “I guess you’re wondering about what I was trying to say to you before Thorn left.”
She nodded. “Yes. Do you think we can have that conversation now that you aren’t bleeding to death on me?”
Asher nodded slowly, gnawing on his lip. He stared at her hands which were folded neatly on the table. He saw that the white tips of her French manicure were chipped on a few fingers. It wasn’t like Amara to have anything, even a minute detail like her nail polish, less than perfect. It occurred to him then that those fingers with the chipped polish all belonged to the hand which she had used to block the blast which nearly killed him. He wanted to reach out and touch her hands, but he was hesitant. He didn’t know how she would react to a gesture like that. He found his hands twitching with his desire to touch her, but some other force inhibited the motion.
Hearing his thoughts, Amara looked down at her nail polish, frowning to see that it was indeed chipped. She folded her hands in a different way in order to conceal the flaws.
He did reach out to grasp her hands then. “Sakra! The palm of your hand is burned. The skin has been burned clean off!” Asher tenderly held her wrist as he surveyed the damage.
She smiled and pulled her hand away from him. “Whatever. It’s nothing, Ash. Honestly. I’m not as fragile as I used to be. You should have seen me in the Pseudosphere! This is a tiny injury, basically a paper cut.”
“Then why hasn’t it healed yet?” He was already leaping up and heading for the first aid kit. He opened the box and removed antiseptic and bandages for her hand as he returned, and sat down on the bench beside her instead of across from her. Amara found herself feeling nervous at his proximity as he took her hand into his lap and began to tend to it. She tried to distract herself by glancing at the fashion magazines. Suddenly, titles began popping out to her from the covers as though mocking her.
Excessive Intimacy with an Ex can be Destructive.
“I am really impressed with how tough you’ve become, Mara,” Asher was saying, as he wrapped the bandage around her hand, “I can't believe you deflected that explosion!”
“It was more of an absorption,” she said with a shrug. “Something Pax taught me. You weren’t prepared or it wouldn’t have caught you off guard like that. I didn’t even have to assume Ruby Form to deal with it.”
“Ruby Form.” His eyes drifted up from her hand to meet her eyes. There was only love and warmth shining forth from the brown irises. “I never really got a chance to tell you how proud of you I am. It’s an amazing achievement.”
She felt a blush touching her cheeks, but she shrugged as though she didn’t agree. “Not many would echo that sentiment. Pax keeps pushing me to work harder, and my
dad is calling me a late bloomer.”
“It’s different for everyone. Pax didn’t make it until she was 18. Anyway, I’m really proud of you," Asher found himself lifting her bandaged hand to his lips and kissing it gently.
Their eyes locked, and Amara found herself smiling at the moment his lips brushed her hand. Then she caught herself and looked away. Her eyes fell back to the pile of fashion magazines and latched onto another headline.
Forgiveness: How Much is Too Much?
Asher was still smiling and holding her injured hand in both of his. “I wish I could have been there to witness your first transformation.”
“Really?” she mumbled.
“Yeah! It’s kind of like a deva version of a graduation ceremony, isn’t it?” Asher was grinning. “I really wish I could have seen it! What pushed you past the edge? How did it happen? Will you tell me the story?”
“I was naked and covered in mud,” Amara said with a light laugh.
“Naked?” he asked, blinking.
“Yes.”
“Why were you… naked?” he asked slowly.
Amara sighed, fully aware that he was imagining her naked, and that he was picturing himself being very intimate with her naked body. She could feel through the mental link how his thoughts were arousing him, and she felt slightly annoyed, but also slightly pleased.
“It was in the vector zone. One of the rooms turned out to be a deadly jungle,” Amara explained. “The insects were eating us alive and killing us with all kinds of infections, so we had to use mud as a shield.”
“Oh,” he remarked. Asher stared at her for a moment before a slow smile spread over his face. “Well, then I really wish I had been there to see it!”
Amara couldn’t resist a smirk.
Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak Box Set (Books 1-3) Page 79