Chapter 277: Blurry Lines

If there was one trait Violet thrived on, it was being stubborn. And for the first time, she was glad for that. Violet Purple never left Asher’s room. No, she sat her ass right there. Asher couldn’t hide his own ass forever. Moreover, she had come here under the influence of his power.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t brave enough to return to the shack at this ungodly hour. It was three in the morning—she’d checked Asher’s phone, seeing as she came here with nothing—and the way back home was terrifying. Violet wasn’t a chicken, but there are just some stupid risks you don’t take.

Not all the wolves liked her, and she could still remember the phantom weight of those unseen eyes watching her on her way here. If she left now, any of them could take this opportunity to harm her, and no one would come to her aid. If Asher wanted her gone, then he should be the one to walk her back.

And if he wouldn’t? Well, then she’d sit her ass right here until morning when the path back would be safer. Damn the consequences of being seen.

Unfortunately, the night had already been rough so far, and sitting alone on that bed just staring up at the ceiling, waiting for Asher to come out, it wasn’t surprising that sleep eventually claimed her.

Violet jerked awake the moment she felt a hand wrap around her throat. The trauma from earlier was still fresh, and her eyes flew open in alarm at the contact. So imagine her shock when she saw Asher hovering over her again.

Violet would’ve panicked immediately, if not for the fact that his grip wasn’t as suffocating as before, and his eyes were fully alert, locked on hers with unshaking clarity. But there was something unsettling in the way Asher looked at her—like he wanted to kill her. Both in the literal and not-so-literal sense, if that made any twisted kind of sense.

It was the kind of look that said he was torn between silencing her forever to protect his secret and being unable to lay a single harmful finger on her. That inner battle played out in his hands, fingers tightening around her neck one moment, then loosening the next.

So Violet decided to make it easier for him. "You’re not going to hurt me," she said, calm and certain.

Violet meant it. No, she believed it with a conviction so unwavering it was almost maddening.

But Asher wasn’t the type to let things go unquestioned.

As if to challenge her resolve, to remind her just who the hell he was, his hand tightened. That same suffocating pressure returned, cutting off her air inch by inch.

Still, Violet didn’t panic. She didn’t claw at him. She didn’t even flinch. She just looked up at him, that unyielding trust swimming in her eyes. It rattled him. Maybe she was as crazy as he was broken.

Asher’s brows pinched together with confusion, war, and disbelief. He didn’t understand how she could put that kind of faith in a monster like him. So, he tried to break it. He squeezed harder, pushed until her breath fled her throat—until she was just moments away from losing consciousness.

But still, Violet didn’t fight.

She surrendered to him, her hands limp at her sides, her gaze locked with his as if silently daring him to finish what he started. To prove her wrong.

And then he broke.

Asher let go with a strangled growl, and Violet gasped, lungs burning as she dragged in air like it might save her soul. But he wasn’t done. Asher grabbed her again, this time pulling her onto his lap with a force that bordered on desperation, his voice exploding out of him.

"Are you fucking out of your mind?!" Asher roared, eyes wild, and hand tight around her hip. "Don’t you know what I’m capable of?! You’re supposed to stop me, not encourage me!"

He looked unhinged, terrified even. Asher was furious, the veins in his neck taut, and those haunting, slitted grey eyes blazing with something between fire and devastation.

But Violet simply laughed, breathless, raspy, alive, and unafraid.

"I’m well aware of your tendencies," she said, meeting his gaze, "but if there’s anything I can always trust, it’s that you, Asher Nightingale Nightshade, could never afford to lose me."

She had said his middle name. The one no one should’ve known. The one even he forgot sometimes belonged to him.

Asher stared at her, stunned, and completely speechless for the first time.

Something shifted between them. The air thickened, molten, and charged. That invisible line they’d always toed? It was burned away completely.

"Nightingale," Violet breathed, like she was tasting the word for the first time. Her fingers brushed against his face, slow and reverent, as if memorizing him through touch. "It’s a beautiful name, Asher."

Then her golden eyes met his slitted ones. She didn’t need to say it, but Violet did anyway, because that was who she was—wild and reckless and unapologetically brave.

"Just like every part of you."

Then she leaned in and kissed him.

Asher responded immediately, because that was who he was. Shameless. Greedy. Always aching for his purple queen.

He cradled the back of her head with one hand, the other sliding down to palm her ass, possessive and hungry. Her nightgown had bunched around her hips, exposing warm, smooth skin that begged to be touched. And he didn’t hold back.

Violet moaned, heat pulsing low in her belly, gathering like a storm at her core.

Asher kissed her like he had nothing to lose, his mouth demanding, his tongue claiming her with reckless abandon. Every movement branded her, like he was inscribing her soul with his name. And she met him flame for flame, kissing him back with equal hunger, losing herself in the fire he ignited.

He didn’t just set her aflame, he burned through every barrier she’d built, melted every no into a yes, every hesitation into need.

And in that moment, Violet knew—knew with every trembling breath—that she needed Asher just as desperately as she needed air.