by L. C. Davis
Lowell and Allen fell into step beside their Alpha and Lucas turned back, glaring at Nick. “I said we’re leaving.”
“I heard you,” Nick said without blinking.
Lucas frowned. “Don’t be foolish, Nick. These things aren’t your pack.”
“You don’t want to force me to choose between you and my mate. It’s not gonna go the way you want.”
Lucas’ eyes widened and he looked at me in nothing short of disgust. “Your mate?”
So Nick hadn’t told his family he’d imprinted on me. Allen was trying to trap me, and I’d come so close to falling in.
“You heard what I said.”
Lucas pointed at Nick and seemed ready to make an accusation along with the condemning gesture, but he let his hand fall and shook his head. “You’re making a huge mistake,” he said before disappearing with the others.
The moment he was out of sight, Nick’s shoulders fell. Before I could reach him, Daniel’s hand rested on his shoulder and he whispered something to Nick that I couldn’t hear. Nick shook his head somberly before looking over at me. “Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing me by the shoulders to look me over.
“I’m fine, but Nick, you have to talk to him and --”
“Asher!” Daniel cried, dropping to his knees to catch Dennis as he collapsed.
Asher…?
Dennis’ teeth were gritted and his features contorted in pain as he doubled over, his nails scraping at the tattered fabric on his shoulders where the blood had nearly soaked through the entire back of his jacket. Daniel tore the fabric off him until it was hanging in strips, leaving his back exposed. There was no sign of the bone-like protrusions I’d seen trying to break through earlier, but they had left evidence behind in the form of two vertical gashes on his shoulder blades. I could see the white bone through the torn muscle and flesh and it felt raw just to look at. Dennis was shuddering violently as Daniel held him, and from the look of pure panic on his face, I knew there was more left between them than hatred.
“Asher, please, tell me what you need,” Daniel pleaded, struggling to keep him upright. “How can I help?”
So I hadn’t heard wrong the first time. Daniel was calling him Asher now. For all I knew, the creature in front of me wasn’t Dennis Mills at all and a hell of a lot more had transpired since our last date than I’d thought possible. Nothing about this night made any sense.
“I need blood, but not here,” Asher said, grimacing. “The woods…”
Daniel nodded, pulling the wounded monster to his feet. “I’ve got you…”
“I’ll come,” I said, taking one step forward before Nick pulled me back.
“You’re not going anywhere,” the werewolf growled.
“You heard him! He needs blood and he can’t take Daniel’s.”
Nick hesitated, looking between me and the man who’d just saved our collective asses. “I’ll go. Find Locke and bring him to the woods, he can help us get Dennis or whoever the fuck that is home.”
I didn’t like it, but I nodded since arguing would only prolong Asher’s suffering. I didn’t know who he was, but he was the only reason Daniel and I were still alive, and probably the only reason Nick hadn’t gone through with challenging Lucas. I turned and ran toward the side entrance of the club, coming close to taking out a few socialites on the way.
“Locke!” I cried, ignoring the stares I was getting as I ran through the hall, peeking in one door after the next. I knew he was in the clubhouse because I was beginning to be able to sense the power he’d taken from me and kept like a demonic savings account, doling out funds when he saw fit, but my tracing abilities ended with the general area he was in.
I stopped and tried to focus. The pull I felt toward my energy was similar to the one I felt in my chest whenever Daniel and the soul I held in my chest were in close proximity. I felt a faint pull towards the west corridor, so I took off and threw open the coat room door. It was no great surprise to hear muffled moaning coming from the other side of the thick wooden door. Locke was there, alright, but it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to what I was seeing.
The demon’s designer slacks were pooled around his ankles with a pair of smooth, decidedly curvaceous legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked the brains out of a woman who was splayed out languidly on the coat table. Despite the fact that her blond curls were unleashed from the tight bun she usually wore them in, I recognized her as one of Carla’s philanthropy club friends immediately. The pleasured moans coming from her suggested that this was far from a one-time experiment just for the hell of it on Locke’s part.
The moment she saw me, the woman’s face went from pleasured pink to blazing read and Locke rolled his eyes as she scrambled off the table, pulling her dress down. “Holden,” she said with a high-pitched laugh, still breathless as she groped the coats on the table. I hoped none of the owners of the coats they had been fucking on had been asked to pay for checking them, because they were due for a dry cleaning bill soon. “We were just…”
“Fucking,” I blurted out. Mindy turned an even deeper shade of red than I thought possible. Her search turned frantic until Locke dangled a pair of lacy red panties in front of her. She snatched them from him and shoved them into her clutch, pausing on her way past me. “Please don’t say anything to Carla about this,” she pleaded with a wince before shuffling out of the room. She paused, gripping the doorknob like she was having a hard time standing remembering how to stand and gave a little wave to Locke. “Call me.”
As soon as she was gone, I tried in vain to pick my jaw up off the floor and found myself gaping at Locke instead. I knew there was something important I’d come in to tell him but I was utterly unable to call it to mind. The image of him screwing Mindy had forcibly wiped every other thought in my brain. “You...fuck...women.”
“Good job, that was almost a complete sentence,” he said, taking a sip of the martini one of them had left on the table. Evidently, drinks and chit chat had taken an unexpected turn. “Oh, don’t be so puerile. I’m a demon, we’ll fuck anything that breathes.”
“Obviously.” It wasn’t just the fact that my admittedly presumptuous belief that Locke was gay had been shattered that was throwing me, it was his taste in women. “Mindy Brannon? The woman’s on her fifth husband and she thinks Cosmo is high literature.”
He shrugged. “I like curvy women and muscle men. Everything else is just icing on the cake.” He ran a finger over his lips. “Mindy happens to taste like vanilla. My favorite.”
“Funny, I would have guessed she tasted like vodka since I never see her without a drink in her hand.”
“Aren’t you a Judgy Jed tonight?”
I grimaced, but he kind of had a point. Shoving down my pettiness and an irrational amount of shock, I reminded myself of why I was there in the first place. “Forest,” I said, gesturing out the window. “Remiel showed up and Dennis has...bone things coming out of his back. We need you.”
Locke cocked an eyebrow. “I take one night to myself and the entire world falls apart,” he muttered, grabbing my arm. Before I had time to protest, we were outside under a canopy of trees and Asher was bent over Nick’s wrist. The werewolf looked queasy but it didn’t seem like it was pain he was enduring so much as discomfort.
Locke let out a sigh of deep exasperation, rubbing his temple. “Are you ever not in distress?”
Asher looked up slowly, his eyes blood red and his mouth still clamped over Nick’s wrist. When he finally pulled away, I caught a flash of impossibly sharp teeth that all looked like they had been filed to points before he covered his mouth and turned to Locke. Nick staggered to his feet and made it a few steps before bracing himself against the closest tree to vomit up everything he’d drank that night.
I rushed to Nick’s side, rubbing his back consolingly even though my constitution wasn’t faring much better than his. When I looked back at Asher, his teeth seemed to have gone back to normal as he conversed with Locke in hushed tones I couldn
’t make out.
“You saw that, right?” Nick groaned, leaning heavily against the tree as he seemed to be trying to convince his body not to turn on him again.
“Yeah,” I squeaked. “If you’re talking about the shark teeth, I did.”
Nick turned a darker shade of green and down went another drink. I winced, patting his back while trying to listen in to what was going on behind us. Daniel had joined the conversation and he was pissed at Locke about something.
Nick finally collapsed with his back against the tree. “Deep breaths,” I said, offering him the handkerchief from his suit pocket. He held it over his mouth and nodded.
“Sorry you had to see that.”
“It’s fine. Are you hemophobic?”
He shook his head and seemed to regret it. “Wolves are predators, not prey. Our first reaction to being bitten by anything is rage and murder. Suppress that for long enough…”
“And you get projectile vomiting. Got it.”
“The shark teeth didn’t help,” he admitted. “What the fuck was that?”
“You tell me, I didn’t even know werewolves existed a year ago,” I said in a harsh whisper. I watched Nick for a moment, frowning. “You gave him blood just so I wouldn’t have to.”
“The only thing worse than whatever the fuck that was would be letting you do it,” he said. When I fell silent, he turned suspicious. “Why do I feel like that’s not the first time you offered?”
“It isn’t,” I admitted. “I mean, I didn’t know about the...teeth, I just thought he was some kind of weird vampire, but he needs blood.”
“Well, you’re not gonna be his donor,” Nick snapped.
“We’ll talk about it later. Let’s go see what’s going on.”
Nick reluctantly followed me, but I knew there was no chance he’d forget to continue where we’d left off.
Asher was already standing with Daniel’s help, but he looked as if he’d seen better days. “Are you alright?” I asked, deciding to let that be the first of the myriad questions forming a queue in my mind.
“More to the point, what the fuck are you?” asked Nick. “By now, it’s pretty damn clear you’re not Dennis Mills and I think I have the right to know, considering you just spent the last five minutes sucking on my arm.”
I glanced at the wound but Nick’s arm was fully healed.
“As much as I appreciate the blood, I wouldn’t be doing you any favors by telling you,” Asher said quietly.
“Daniel called you Asher,” I said, deciding to at least figure out who I’d been seeing for months. “Is that your real name?”
“It’s close enough,” he said with a small smile.
“Off you go,” Locke said, reaching out to touch Asher’s forehead. The next moment, he and Daniel were both gone.
Eleven
DANIEL
When Locke poofed us back to Asher’s place, I found myself smack dab in the middle of the one place in Stillwater I’d sworn I would never go. I’d never actually been to Dennis’ house since he had built it, but it was one of those hipster statement pieces with more glass walls than actual walls, so I recognized it easily enough. The house was deep enough in the woods that you couldn’t see it from the winding road that should have been my final resting place, but I’d passed it before while attending expeditions with the biology department. It was the kind of place weary hikers in a horror movie might stumble upon, thinking they’re saved only to discover that there’s a killer lurking inside.
Maybe Asher wasn’t a killer, but after what I’d seen in the garden, I had my doubts that the truth was any less unsettling. If the angel of death was afraid of him, I wasn’t macho enough to pretend otherwise.
Except, he’d saved me. He’d spoken up twice on my behalf, first with Remiel and then with Lucas. Locke seemed fine with him, whatever he was. The demon seemed a bit too comfortable with him, if anything. I had questions and this time, I was going to get answers, but when Asher collapsed, I knew they would have to wait.
“Easy,” I said, trying to lead him over to the couch.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, holding out his hand. “I just need…” he hesitated and seemed to be having a hard time getting out what he wanted to say.
“What? What do you need?” I asked, finding myself far too eager to give it to him.
“This is going to sound strange, but I need to be in water. Do you think you could help me get into the bathroom?” he asked, clearly embarrassed about needing help.
“Sure. Here.” I draped his arm over my shoulder and let him lean against me. He mumbled directions to the room up the hall and I wasn’t sure where the bathroom was, but the door I opened led into a fucking spa. There was a huge stone shower closed in by a tinted glass wall that overlooked the forest and a clear glass door, a jacuzzi and a sink full of well-organized bath products, hair products, shaving products, and every other kind of goop that could be jarred and marketed to the discerning male consumer.
“So, this is the hair factory,” I muttered.
Asher rolled his eyes, pulling away from me to turn on the water in the shower. Steam fogged the glass and I found myself staring at the tears in his back. They didn’t seem as deep as they had before he’d fed from Nick, but they still looked painful. I was mentally running through the list of winged mythical creatures when I realized he’d taken off his pants to step into the shower and I turned away quickly. I knew I should leave, but I lingered in case he needed me again and when I heard a strangled groan, I whipped around. A cloud of steam surrounded him and water rolled down his back as the gashes began to close before my eyes.
When Asher’s eyes met mine, they were blue again. I wondered when they’d changed back from red, but despite the exhaustion within them, they still danced with amusement like they always seemed to whenever he was looking at me. “Usually being in the forest and drinking blood is enough for me to heal, but water always does the trick.”
“Why?” I asked, knowing that asking any question of substance when he was in the mood to give answers was a dangerous game.
Asher turned his head into the water, smoothing back his wet hair. I followed the droplets down his muscular shoulders and lean torso, and I should have stopped there, but I’d always been a glutton for punishment. Even flaccid, his dick was impressive. Mine was thicker, but his was long and...cut. That was new.
I looked up and he was watching me with that half-smile that could instantly transmute any confusion or anger into lust. “Are you just going to stand there staring, or would you like to join me?”
I should have turned him down. Like so many other times, I should have turned and walked away, but how the hell was I supposed to resist an invitation like that? I peeled off my suit jacket and draped it over the clothes hamper by the wall because the guy was allergic to clutter and tonight wasn’t the night to piss him off for so many reasons. Once I had taken off my shirt and slacks and tucked my thumb into the waistband of my boxers, I realized he was still watching me. I’d never given a strip tease before and wasn’t about to start tonight, so I hastily pulled off my boxers and stepped into the shower with him, well aware that I was probably making a huge mistake as I slid the door closed.
“You never answered my question,” I said, hissing as the scalding water hit my skin.
“Nature heals me,” he replied. “It’s the tether to my power. The further away from nature I am, the weaker I become and vice versa.”
I knew if I just came out and asked, “What are you?” he’d deny being anything inhuman just like he always did. As I watched him lather a bar of soap that smelled like rain between his hands and smooth it down his chest, I was losing my ability to care. “You started changing back there,” I said, taking a sudden interest in the grainy patterns of the stone wall. “This isn’t the way you usually look, is it?”
“When I’m here it is.”
“Where else would you be? Remiel said something about another realm.”
“It’s
my home,” he said softly. “Things are different there. I’m different there. When I go into that form, the one you saw me start to change into tonight, it takes energy to sustain in this realm. It’s unnatural.”
“It hurts you.”
“Yes, it does.”
“But you were going to do it anyway, to protect Holden.”
He cocked his head to one side, watching me as I watched the soapy water run down his chest in rivulets, pooling on the cut of his hips before it trickled down to water the neatly trimmed patch of hair below. “And you.”
“Why? You said you’d chosen a side a long time ago, what the hell does that mean?” I asked, forcing myself to keep my eyes above his shoulders. There was enough temptation in his face, in the droplet of water clinging to his full lips. “You keep saying you don’t belong here, so why are you here?”
Asher looked away and I was sure he was preparing some cryptic response, as usual, but when he finally looked back at me, he said, “There isn’t a word for what I am, because what I am isn’t something that should exist. You asked me before what my real name was.”
“Asherath,” I murmured. It sounded harsh on my tongue, and it didn’t fit the elegant creature he was, man or monster.
“It’s not a name, it’s a word. It means abomination in my native tongue.”
I took a moment to process that, but no matter what I’d seen that night and no matter what he’d done, there was nothing about it that defined him. “Why would anyone call you that?”
“My father thought it was fitting,” he said with a sad laugh. “Not my birth father, but the one who raised me. It was a kindness that he named me at all.”
“Talk to me,” I pleaded, settling my hands on his shoulders because he was begging to be touched, and that was the only part of him that seemed safe. “Whatever you are, wherever you came from, I’m the last person who has reason to judge. I’m Frankenstein’s monster, remember?”
He smiled a little, but it didn’t touch the sadness in his gaze. Or the shame. I could tell he wanted to say more, but he was afraid. Of what, it was beyond my ability to guess.