Page 36 of The Enemy to the Living
“Where are you going?” he asks, puzzled, voice hoarse from sleep.
“Toilet.”
“Hmm.” He turns his face and nuzzles my shoulder. My heart skips a beat. “Hurry back. You’re warm.”
I stare at him for a full minute before I gather enough strength to get out of bed. Static rushes in my mind as I walk out of the bedroom and take the door to the side, the one that leads to the bathroom.
Once I’ve done my business, I stand in front of the sink, barely able to look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t have a nightmare. I didn’t see my parents’ faces or that vampire who—
Nope. Okay. I swallow hard. They’re stillthere, still lurking just out of sight, but I’m also warm from the bed and aware that Asher is waiting on me.
Why is he waiting on me? I don’t want to think too hard about that, either. I wash my hands instead, dry them off on a surprisingly fluffy towel, and go back into the bedroom.
Asher is curled up on his side, just where I left him. He doesn’t open his eyes when I climb stiffly back into the bed, but he rolls towards me once I’ve pulled the duvet back over me and presses his face against my neck.
When I don’t move, after a moment or two, he pats a hand over my stomach. “This okay?”
“Yeah.” I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I wriggle down the bed a little way and then wrap one around him, fingers drifting up to rest against his nape. Asher stills for a moment—that unnatural stillness that means I’ve surprised him, or he doesn’t like it—but before I can move my hand away, he relaxes against me, letting out a bone-weary sigh.
“That’s nice,” he says, and I choke back something I think is a sob.
He wanted to leave because he wanted to give me space, and sure, there’s a flutter of attraction in my chest that I don’t know if he returns, but it’s not about that. He needs this just as much as I do. He’s a wolf, even if he doesn’t have one anymore, and ifthe others in the Hunt don’t know that, if he doesn’t have friends who know that…
When’s the last time anyone touched him, too?
I curl into him more fully, and I’m just walking that fine line between sleep and wakefulness when my phone buzzes insistently on the bedside table. I’m surprised I hear it at all—the battery must be on its last legs.
I don’t turn away from Asher, just reach behind me without looking. It takes a few tries to grab it, and I know Asher’s awake because he huffs against my shoulder, sounding vaguely amused. Warmth blooms in my chest. It surprises me with how intense it feels.
That warmth drains away when I see who the text is from. Celyn. I don’t even need to open it. The preview tells me all I need to know—I’m fighting tonight at five.
And when I look at my phone again, I realise that’s only a few hours away. We’ve slept for most of the day; it’s already early afternoon.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I’ve got to go.”
Asher lifts his head. His eyes are still hazy with sleep, and the furrow between his brows is almost… cute.
“Now?”
“Yeah, I—” When I go to sit up, Asher moves back. He’s still frowning as he watches me climb out of the bed and look around for my shoes. Ah. I left them by the door. Right.
“You’re going to fight again.”
I don’t look at him. I can’t tell him, can’t lie to him, but it’s not like he can’t find out. He knows where they’ve moved Mischief & Mayhem to. He can just come along tonight.
“Quinn?”
I pause by the door. Asher is still on the bed. He’s drawn his legs up under the duvet and rests his elbows on his knees.
He doesn’t look like a member of the Hunt like this. Longing pangs in my chest, but it’s the same feeling I’ve had on and off for the last few months—longing for family, for home. For something else?
“Yeah?”
Asher’s lips quirk. “Good luck. And don’t forget to give me a ring, okay? About your wolf?”
Tension leeches out of me. He’s not going to push. He knows I can’t tell.
“Yeah,” I say, and the next sentence, I mean. “I’ll call you once I’m done tonight?”
