Page 59 of Savage Torment

Panic burns in my throat as I scramble to explain, visibly watching him retreat into himself. “It was like flashes of pain,despair, terror, and more emotions than I can name. But I saw The Crow, too.”

His hands drop away from me as he rises to his feet, chin to his chest as he avoids my gaze. It almost looks like he’s sinking in defeat, but the tension veins wrapped around his arms, leading to his clenched fists, shows the emotions he’s trying to contain. “I’m sorry you had to bear witness to that,” he mutters, turning away from me, and as much as I want to bask in the sight of his ass in just his boxers, the distance he’s adding between us keeps worry thrumming through my veins.

The weight I see resting on his shoulders breaks my heart, so despite my inner struggle to stay quiet, I rise to my feet. “It wasn’t just a dream, was it?” I fidget with the hem of the oversized t-shirt that hangs to mid-thigh. He doesn’t respond as he reaches for his pants, indicating that I’ve struck a nerve, but I press on. “It was a memory, wasn't it?”

His shoulders bunch closer together as his fists tighten around the fabric in his hands. He keeps his back to me, so I clear my throat and wrap my arms around my middle.

“I’m sorry. Asher.”

He spins around as his gaze snaps to mine, wild and furious. “I don't want your sympathy,” he snaps, and I shake my head.

“You don't have it,” I reply honestly. He frowns and turns to face me fully, as if he’s seeking more of an explanation. So that’s what I provide. “I know what it’s like for people to look at you strangely, as if it’s sad to even see you because they know what you’ve been through. That's not what this is.”

His hand relaxes, causing his pants to drop to the floor as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “Then what is it?”

My heart aches. I’ve never seen this man appear so vulnerable, and I think it only worsens with the acknowledgment that he’s exposing this side to me. “Understanding, awe, pride,” I rattle off, ready to throw athousand words at him, but the first three seem to overwhelm him enough for me to pause.

His brows bunch together. “Pride?” he repeats, disbelief in his tone.

I shrug. “Yes, pride. Just the fact that you’re still here fighting…” I say. The tension in his jaw eases slightly, but the uncertainty remains.

“It doesn't usually feel like fighting,” he admits as I try to offer a warm smile.

“That's because it's a natural two-step dance routine for you at this point: fighting and surviving. When it’s all you know, you do it without even realizing.”

He tilts his head at me. “Is that what you're doing?”

I feel the familiar heat ghost my cheeks as I shrug. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” he repeats, and I nod. “How only mostly?” he presses, and I let out a long breath. Sharing the truth hurts, but in the sweetest way possible.

“Because then I came here,” I admit, and his lips twist as he continues to stare down at me, clearly aware that there's still a bit more to the truth. So, I share a piece of my own vulnerability. “And because I finally feel like I'm on the brink of living.”

18

ASHER

Why is she looking at me like that? Why the fuck do I like it so much?

My hands flex at my sides, our gazes locked. It took every ounce of control I had last night to not find a reason to claim her over and over again. To bring her to her knees and make her beg. The memory of her sweet pleas from the night at the fight club still consumes me.

Now she’s standing there, knowing a sliver of my past, and she’s right, it’s not sympathy I see. It’s more. So much fucking more.

I know what she’s hinting, what she’s saying, she feels like she might be living, and I know I’m a fucking part of that. I know it with every fiber of my being. Or my wolf does. Either way, it sets my soul alight.

Her throat bobs as she gulps before her tongue peeks out, running over her bottom lip.

It’s unreal how much she doesn’t realize how enticing and intoxicating she is. To see the deepest, darkest parts of me and still want more, that’s everything.

My cock stiffens beneath my fitted black boxer shorts, but her eyes remain locked on mine.

“On your knees, Silver,” I rasp, and her eyebrows furrow with an innocent confusion that burns me even hotter.

“Asher?” My name is nothing more than a whisper on her lips. I want it to be a prayer.

“Did I stutter?”

She shakes her head as her lips part, but before she can say a word, the sound of her alarm goes off, interrupting the moment. Not for long, though. She darts to her nightstand, turning it off immediately before scurrying back to the exact spot by her desk.

---