Rose
Asher is waiting for me when I enter the cottage, the floor spotless as if heâs spent hours cleaning it.
âI see youâve been busy,â I joke as I survey the rest of the area. It mustâve taken him a whole day to get it in this shape.
âYeah,â he says with a chuckle as he stands, meeting my eyes. His eyes then darken, shifting to light blue. âWhat happened to your face?â
My brows furrow, taken aback. Why are his eyes blue while heâs asking me this?
âOh, uhm,â I stall, still trying to wrap my mind around whatâs happening. âIt was just a little squabble.â
He rushes toward me, caressing my face and tilting it to the side to examine the very thin scratch.
âItâs really no big deal, Asher.â
âWho did it?â He growls, a huff of air escaping his nose.
I canât help but blush, a little giggle slipping from my lips. âAlright, Big Bad Wolf, I promise itâs not bad! It was just some guy who came in looking for asylum and got a little too big for his britches, so he had to be taught a lesson. He got it a lot worse than I did. Iâm sure you are well aware of what happens when two hot-headed, dominant people get in a little skirmish.â
âCommon occurrence in the wolf and vampire worlds, it seems,â he replies, relaxing a bit, his hands sliding off my face. âDid you kick him out?â
âNo,â I answer, and his eyes widen with shock.
âWhat? You let someone who hurt you stay in your clan?â
âWell, heâs clearly a great fighter; not many people can get close enough to scratch me,â I answer playfully. âI am quite a badass, after all.â
âHow do you know he wonât try something again?â He asks, worry lacing his tone. âWhat if he goes after you when you least expect it?â
I rest my hands on his chest, his heart racing. âItâs fine, Asher. I donât think he will. Seems like he has a little crush on me.â
âWhat?â He asks, his tone dark, those blue eyes returning.
What the fuck is going on? Why is his wolf suddenly so concerned about my well-being?
âThat or he had something large in his pocket,â I joke with a wink. âBut I donât think that was the case.â
Asherâs jaw clenches, his eyes half brown and half blue but blazing with something strong. I canât tell what emotion because even though my gut says itâs jealousy, I know that canât be true.
Heâs a mated man. If he had feelings for me enough to make him jealous of someone he hasnât met, then why is he still with her? Why hasnât he given in to us?
âWell, letâs maybe stop talking about that,â I suggest, rubbing his shoulder. âHow have you been?â
I want to bring up the voice I heard in my head. Well, not a random voice, his voice. Iâm not sure how heâd react to hearing that since Iâd be pretty alarmed if someone told me they randomly heard my voice in their head saying super random things.
But it feels like something I should tell him, right? Especially since what he was saying was a little concerning.
âWhy are you doing this to me?â
Thatâs the sentence Iâm hung up on. Who was doing what to him? He sounded upset in my head, like his voice was cracking, and he could barely push the words out as if he was terrified.
âIâm alright,â he answers quickly.
âAre you sure?â I ask, not wanting to pry any more than this. But, then again, maybe I should? Iâve been taking a laissez-faire approach with him, and that hasnât worked.
Maybe he needs more tough love? Maybe I need to force it out of him?
âOkay, fine,â he relents. âSomething bad happened, but I donât want to talk about it.â
âAsh,â I sigh, wrapping my arms around his neck to hug him and press my ear against his chest. His heart is racing so fast that I fear it may skip out of his chest. âYou can tell me anything.â
âItâs not that,â he stammers. âIâm just not ready to talk about it to anyone. I hardly can think about it myself. I-â He chokes up, letting out a shaky breath.
âAlright, alright,â I soothe, pulling away. His hair has grown from the military cut, showing off some curls. I guess thatâs what his hair is naturally like.
Why does he cut it? He looks so good with the longer hair, the curls coming out in bangs over his eyes.
I brush them behind his ear, the roots sweaty.
Fuck, whatever it is thatâs bothering him, it must be horrific.
Was the voice I heard really him? In real time? Did I overhear an actual conversation he was having with someone?
And, if thatâs the caseâ¦
How do I explain that? How did I hear him?
Why?
âWe donât have to talk about it,â I reply, and he smiles in relief.
âI just want to have a good time with you,â he says. âI feel like every time weâve hung out the last few times, itâs been super heavy.â
âI understand,â I reply, and he leans down, pressing a kiss on my cheek over the scratch.
âSeems like you could use some unwinding, too, after delivering such a great ass-kicking.â
I giggle, stepping back from his embrace, a little overwhelmed.
He kissed my cheek.
Itâs a sweet gesture, one a friend might do. Iâd imagine he has kissed his motherâs cheek, maybe even his fatherâs. Definitely his brothersâ and sisters,â he strikes me as an affectionate eldest brother.
But you also kiss a loverâs cheek.
Iâd imagine heâs probably kissed Geneviveâs on more than one occasion, as sickening as the thought is.
So, how did he mean it this time?
Does he see me as a sister? A friend?
Or something more?
âI brought something I thought you might like,â he says with a broad smile, his eyes lighting up for the first time in ages.
I let my heavy emotions go, wanting to share in his excitement.
âWhat is it?â I ask.
âWell, you told me before that you didnât have anyone to play with as a kid.â
âGee, thanks for the reminder,â I tease.
He rolls his eyes. âBear with me! I promise itâs a sweet sentiment,â he says, walking into the other room, which is a bedroom we havenât been in together. I havenât even seen it, not wanting to overstep. But I know itâs a bedroom because he told me. He walks out with a giant cardboard moving box. âI stopped by my parentsâ house this morning to say hello to everyone, and I found this.â
He sets it down on the table. âItâs all the games my siblings and I used to play growing up. Well, besides the made-up ones. But, anyway, when I saw it, I thought of you and asked my mom if I could borrow it. I think she thinks this means Iâm having a kid soon, so she got all excited so Iâll have a great time explaining that one. Anyways, though-â
He rambles on, talking about the memories behind each game, bringing tears to my eyes. I blush.
âMy point is!â He finally surmises, reaching the end. âI wanted to play them with you. Give you a little taste of childhood you didnât have. Itâs not quite as fun with only two players, but weâll make it work. Besides, I could use some of the nostalgia, too.â
I smile, my heart bursting at the sweet gesture. I canât even speak.
Tears well in my eyes as my lips tremble, that lonely feeling in my heart slowly filling. That hole gutted out by my motherâs coldness and my fatherâs absence is being stitched up by Hungry, Hungry Hippo and Mouse Trap.
âShit, Iâm sorry!â he sputters. âIf itâs too kiddy, I understand. I also bought a couple of new puzzles for you since I know you like those so much,â he says, pulling a shopping bag from the box and setting them out. âI got one thatâs all one solid color thatâll drive you crazy. And this one is of roses, which I thought was fitting.â
âAsher,â I say, resting my hand on his. âItâs perfect. Iâm justâ¦â I trail off, closing my eyes as I let it all sink in.
When youâve felt pain for your whole life, it becomes a strange kind of comfort. A constant emotion in a life of inconsistency. Itâs the only thing in my life that was truly reliable. Victor has done a lot to start the healing process, but Asherâ¦
âThis is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,â I tell him sincerely, gazing into his perfect eyes. Those kind, thoughtful eyes. âThank you.â
âYou deserve it, Rose,â he says as if itâs the most obvious thing in the world. His tone doesnât carry the gravity of the sentence, but maybe thatâs because he doesnât realize just how not obvious to me that is.
How am I ever going to fall out of love with him?