Blood on the Moon

Rose

Asher is waiting for me when I enter the cottage, the floor spotless as if he’s spent hours cleaning it.

“I see you’ve been busy,” I joke as I survey the rest of the area. It must’ve taken him a whole day to get it in this shape.

“Yeah,” he says with a chuckle as he stands, meeting my eyes. His eyes then darken, shifting to light blue. “What happened to your face?”

My brows furrow, taken aback. Why are his eyes blue while he’s asking me this?

“Oh, uhm,” I stall, still trying to wrap my mind around what’s happening. “It was just a little squabble.”

He rushes toward me, caressing my face and tilting it to the side to examine the very thin scratch.

“It’s really no big deal, Asher.”

“Who did it?” He growls, a huff of air escaping his nose.

I can’t help but blush, a little giggle slipping from my lips. “Alright, Big Bad Wolf, I promise it’s 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. I’m sure you are well aware of what happens when two hot-headed, dominant people get in a little skirmish.”

“Common occurrence in the wolf and vampire worlds, it seems,” he replies, relaxing a bit, his hands sliding off my face. “Did you kick him out?”

“No,” I answer, and his eyes widen with shock.

“What? You let someone who hurt you stay in your clan?”

“Well, he’s clearly a great fighter; not many people can get close enough to scratch me,” I answer playfully. “I am quite a badass, after all.”

“How do you know he won’t try something again?” He asks, worry lacing his tone. “What if he goes after you when you least expect it?”

I rest my hands on his chest, his heart racing. “It’s fine, Asher. I don’t think he will. Seems like he has a little crush on me.”

“What?” 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?

“That or he had something large in his pocket,” I joke with a wink. “But I don’t think that was the case.”

Asher’s jaw clenches, his eyes half brown and half blue but blazing with something strong. I can’t tell what emotion because even though my gut says it’s jealousy, I know that can’t be true.

He’s a mated man. If he had feelings for me enough to make him jealous of someone he hasn’t met, then why is he still with her? Why hasn’t he given in to us?

“Well, let’s maybe stop talking about that,” I suggest, rubbing his shoulder. “How have you been?”

I want to bring up the voice I heard in my head. Well, not a random voice, his voice. I’m not sure how he’d react to hearing that since I’d 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.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

That’s the sentence I’m 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.

“I’m alright,” he answers quickly.

“Are you sure?” I ask, not wanting to pry any more than this. But, then again, maybe I should? I’ve been taking a laissez-faire approach with him, and that hasn’t worked.

Maybe he needs more tough love? Maybe I need to force it out of him?

“Okay, fine,” he relents. “Something bad happened, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ash,” 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. “You can tell me anything.”

“It’s not that,” he stammers. “I’m just not ready to talk about it to anyone. I hardly can think about it myself. I-” He chokes up, letting out a shaky breath.

“Alright, alright,” I soothe, pulling away. His hair has grown from the military cut, showing off some curls. I guess that’s 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 that’s 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 that’s the case…

How do I explain that? How did I hear him?

Why?

“We don’t have to talk about it,” I reply, and he smiles in relief.

“I just want to have a good time with you,” he says. “I feel like every time we’ve hung out the last few times, it’s been super heavy.”

“I understand,” I reply, and he leans down, pressing a kiss on my cheek over the scratch.

“Seems like you could use some unwinding, too, after delivering such a great ass-kicking.”

I giggle, stepping back from his embrace, a little overwhelmed.

He kissed my cheek.

It’s a sweet gesture, one a friend might do. I’d imagine he has kissed his mother’s cheek, maybe even his father’s. Definitely his brothers’ and sisters,’ he strikes me as an affectionate eldest brother.

But you also kiss a lover’s cheek.

I’d imagine he’s probably kissed Genevive’s 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?

“I brought something I thought you might like,” 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.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Well, you told me before that you didn’t have anyone to play with as a kid.”

“Gee, thanks for the reminder,” I tease.

He rolls his eyes. “Bear with me! I promise it’s a sweet sentiment,” he says, walking into the other room, which is a bedroom we haven’t been in together. I haven’t even seen it, not wanting to overstep. But I know it’s a bedroom because he told me. He walks out with a giant cardboard moving box. “I stopped by my parents’ house this morning to say hello to everyone, and I found this.”

He sets it down on the table. “It’s 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 I’m having a kid soon, so she got all excited so I’ll have a great time explaining that one. Anyways, though-”

He rambles on, talking about the memories behind each game, bringing tears to my eyes. I blush.

“My point is!” He finally surmises, reaching the end. “I wanted to play them with you. Give you a little taste of childhood you didn’t have. It’s not quite as fun with only two players, but we’ll make it work. Besides, I could use some of the nostalgia, too.”

I smile, my heart bursting at the sweet gesture. I can’t 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 mother’s coldness and my father’s absence is being stitched up by Hungry, Hungry Hippo and Mouse Trap.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” he sputters. “If it’s too kiddy, I understand. I also bought a couple of new puzzles for you since I know you like those so much,” he says, pulling a shopping bag from the box and setting them out. “I got one that’s all one solid color that’ll drive you crazy. And this one is of roses, which I thought was fitting.”

“Asher,” I say, resting my hand on his. “It’s perfect. I’m just…” I trail off, closing my eyes as I let it all sink in.

When you’ve felt pain for your whole life, it becomes a strange kind of comfort. A constant emotion in a life of inconsistency. It’s the only thing in my life that was truly reliable. Victor has done a lot to start the healing process, but Asher…

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” I tell him sincerely, gazing into his perfect eyes. Those kind, thoughtful eyes. “Thank you.”

“You deserve it, Rose,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. His tone doesn’t carry the gravity of the sentence, but maybe that’s because he doesn’t realize just how not obvious to me that is.

How am I ever going to fall out of love with him?