Page 97 of The Enemy to the Living
“What happened the other night?”
“It was the last one,” I say, staring at my hands. Asher reaches over and threads his fingers through mine, and I stare down at the butterfly on the back of his hand instead. “That’s why I said I’d come back. Part of the deal was that I couldn’t tell you anything, either, so I thought I’d come back and tell you—and I felt my wolf too, so I thought we could… we could fix everything and—”
“They tricked you?”
I scowl. “Yeah. Locked me in a room. They came by in the morning and said I’d missed the fight. Then they took my wolf.”
Asher leans over and kisses my shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I said I would be.”
“I got myself into this mess.”
“And Sparrow,” Asher says darkly. He shakes his head a second later. “I can’t be too mad at them. They saved me too tonight.”
“You owe them, then?”
Asher’s eyes flare. “Shit, I do.”
“What deal did you strike?”
“Said I’d tell them what I used to be.” He shrugs one shoulder and tips his head so it’s resting on my shoulder. “They already know, I think. Paxton does.”
I squeeze his hand. “I think Maurice does too.”
Asher hums.
“Why did you keep it a secret?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says, then sighs. “No, I do. I’ve never been certain about the choice I made. Giving up my wolf for another chance at life… What kind of wolf am I, once I’ve done that? I’m not human. I’ve never been human. For a long time, I didn’t know what I was.”
“You’re mine.”
“I am,” Asher agrees easily. “And I’m part of the Hunt. And I’m a wolf, even if I don’t have mine anymore.”
I reach over and touch his chin. He lifts his head, going where I push him easily, and when we kiss, the bond between us flares and grows a little stronger.
We’re interrupted by a knock at the front door. Asher groans against my mouth. “They’re here.”
“It’ll take a while?”
He grins, gaze all heat. “Not if I have any say in it.”
I stay sitting on the stairs as he opens the front door, though my stomach tightens at the sight of all the people waiting outside. Maurice gives me an almost sardonic wave as he steps inside, attention immediately zeroing in on Sorrel’s body. He’s followed by Jeremiah and Paxton, who I recognise only from their infrequent visits to check up on Kieran and Drew.
I don’t really recognise the two vampires bringing up the rear. One is older, and he looks just like every stereotypical vampire I’ve ever imagined—tall and pale, dark hair and dark eyes and a dark, neatly trimmed beard. He smells older than even Maurice.
The other one smells like him. He looks a little younger than me, with messy dark hair, dressed in an outfit I’d think more suited for a summer holiday than anything else. Asher speaks quietly with the older vampire and the younger one watches me, unabashed. When Asher notices, he nudges the younger vampire with his shoulder.
I think they were at my challenge, now that I come to think of it. I swallow hard. I try not to think of that night too much, even if it was the first time I saw Asher.
“Vlad, Grant,” Asher says, pointing at the older, then the younger vampire. “This is Quinn.”
Vlad inclines his head, gaze moving immediately past me to whatever Maurice and the others are doing with Sorrel’s bodyin the kitchen. Grant bounces over and drops onto the step just below mine.
“I remember you,” he says. He leans around me to take a look at Sorrel’s body, then jerks back again, face pale. “You did that?”
I nod. Asher snorts. “Could’ve been me.”
Grant rolls his eyes. I’m hardly more than a pup myself, I know that, and I don’t know how long he’s been a vampire, but I’m sure he’s older than me. Still, in this moment, he reminds me of a boisterous young wolf, sick of listening to his elders.
