Blood on the Moon

Rose

“Yeah, well, my childhood was a little different than yours,” I reply. “My parents died when I was fifteen.”

“Wow,” he says, puffing out his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful. Can I ask how?”

I shrug nonchalantly. “It’s fine. They were pretty cold and distant before, so we didn’t have a very close relationship,” I explain, which is mostly the truth. I have never met my father, and my mom was more of a ‘you get a C if you’re lucky’ professor figure than a loving mother. Hard to miss what you’ve never had. “But they died in a pretty stereotypical way. Car crash.”

“Did you live with extended family after they passed, then?” He asks, his voice hardened with disbelief.

I shake my head, sniffing, remembering the isolation. The reality is worse than my made-up story. It was a more painful feeling of abandonment when I was with someone and still felt lonely than if I were actually alone. It's the difference between being forsaken versus solitary.

Even today, when I’m with people, I don’t feel as present or cared for as I should. There’s still a barrier between myself and others.

Strangely, though... I don’t feel that barrier with Asher. Things feel natural.

It’s because of that stupid force, his ivy.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says gently, placing his hand over mine, patting it a few times before resting his fingers on my knuckles, my arm tensing, too afraid to move. Like when a cat lies on your lap. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have pried.”

“No, it’s fine,” I muster, trying not to let on how nervous I am as I ease into the contact, reveling in it. I don’t want to read too much into it or spook him. I want this contact for as long as he’ll give it. “I don’t have any extended family. I went to live with a foster family and was emancipated at sixteen when I met my boyfriend Dimitri, and lived with him. He’s the one who turned me.”

“Are you still with him?”

I let out a short laugh. “Hell no! He left as soon as I turned. He didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of me and guiding me through vampire life. Plus, he was a cheating asshole.”

He flinches slightly.

“Sorry,” I mutter, only half-meaning it. I feel a pang of guilt. This is a made-up story, but maybe it’ll help him. If I can make up a life story about having a horrible cheating, abusive boyfriend, perhaps he will notice the same signs in his relationship. Realize he deserves better? It’s not like he’ll cross-reference my tragic past with my vampire friends, so I don’t have to worry about him ever finding out it’s all bullshit. And even if he did, I could say I never wanted to talk about it with anyone else since it was so terrible.

It feels wrong to make something like that up, though. But it’s not entirely false. I was cheated on by a past partner but never abused. So maybe if I add in these cheating comments enough, he’ll finally realize he deserves better than Genevieve. But I can’t push it, or he’ll become defensive.

"You okay?" Asher asks, lifting his hand momentarily to wave it in front of me. I jump, missing the contact. "You disappeared for a second there."

He places it back over my hand, and I let out a small breath. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just lost in thought," I explain quickly. I can't bring myself to make up a false abuse story; that'd feel too slimy. I'll have to figure out another way to get through to him. That is if my suspicions about his relationship are correct. But I know I can't force it out of him. So, I continue with my story. “But, yeah, he was gone to the wind. Luckily, though, because he was a warlock before he was a vampire, he gave me the daylighter power, which brought me respect in vampire circles. So I was able to join the Crimson Night Clan and, within a year, became their leader.”

“That’s insane! Were you just that well-liked in a short amount of time? Or did you have to challenge someone?” He asks, bewildered.

I smile, touched by his childlike awestruck expression. He’s looking at me as if I were made of gold, his grip around my hand slightly tighter as he grows excited.

“Yes and no. People loved me, which made challenging the previous leader easier. But he saw the writing on the wall and stepped down, so I didn’t have to fight him for the spot. And if it had come down to that, though, he knew I would win. My daylighter powers come with enhanced abilities, so I’m stronger and faster than the average vampire.”

“You’re incredible.”

“Stop,” I whisper, my breath hitching in my throat as his pointer finger moves back and forth across my knuckle in such small micro-movements I might be making them up.

“Stop what?” He asks with a charming smile. “Telling you the truth?”

“For over-flattering me!”

“It’s not over-flattery when it’s all deserved!” He protests. “You took over one of the most feared vampire clans in the region in under a year! That’s an insane feat fit for the Goddess!”

“Well, technically, we are ruled by the Night God, but I appreciate your praise.”

“Any time, Rose.”

We stare at each other for a moment, the warmth of his hand moving up my arm, my chest tightening with each second we spend. It’s like sitting at the top of a roller coaster before the drop. When will it come? How will it feel when I fall? Exhilarating? Terrifying? Will the car derail or make it down safely?

“I think I should be going,” I whisper, the knot in my stomach too much to bear, tears brimming at the corner of my eyes. I don’t know what emotion is overtaking me. Maybe the inevitability of rejection my body recognizes before my mind? Fear? Overstimulation?

All of the above?

He stands with me, looking me up and down as I push the chair in, trailing my eyes on his stoic face the whole time. He doesn't say a word. I wish I could tell what he’s thinking because the way he’s staring at me feels ravenous. Desperate, even.

But for what?

“Fuck it,” he whispers under his breath as he approaches me with vampire-like quickness, pinning me against the wall as he growls into my neck, breathing in my scent, his hands gripping my waist as his nails dig into my shirt.

“Asher!” I cry, his hard-on pressing through his jeans against my core. “Wo-Won’t Genevieve know? Her mark will burn!” I panic, pressing my hands on his massive pecs, wetness growing in my panties as my canines extend, aching for a small taste of his blood.

I stare at his neck.

“Do you care if she finds out?”

I bite my lip, cupping his face gently, staring into his glowing brown eyes as my canines recede, my concern for him overtaking my sexual desire. “I don’t want her to hurt you.”

His expression falters for a moment, his eyes turning pale blue before quickly returning to normal.

“I haven’t marked her,” he stammers quickly. “She won’t let me.”

I open my mouth to scream at the absurdity of what he just said! Does he hear himself? What mate marks the Alpha but won't let him mark her? But he pushes me further against the wall before I can say anything, his nose pressed in the crook of my neck as he takes a long, deep breath.

“You smell fucking incredible, Rose,” he grunts. “It’s driving me crazy.”

I tangle my hands in his hair as his lips graze my neck, not quite kissing the skin, but I can feel how much he wants to. Both of our hands are shaking as we hold back from each other. Only inches from a poison paradise, our mouths poised to take a bite of forbidden fruit.

He lets out a shaky whimper as he pulls away, heaving his hands through his hair, his eyes a roaring shade of blue.

“What the fuck am I doing?” He moans. “Fuck!”

“Nothing happened, Asher,” I whisper, pulling myself together as I fight back tears, my bruised heart throbbing in pain. But I keep it together. “You did nothing wrong.”

“But I wanted to,” he tells me, shaking his head. “And I-I…”

“You still do?”

He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut.

He sighs. “Maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore. This’ll spell nothing but trouble for both of us.”

“No!” I cry, my heart beating again, sending a flush of red to my cheeks that I hope he doesn’t notice. “I don’t want that. Neither do you.”

“I can’t keep putting myself in compromising situations. I’m a mated man.”

To a monster! I want to cry, shaking his shoulders to get it through his skull. A woman who doesn’t treat you a fraction as well as I would!

“We can still be just friends,” I insist. “I won’t let anything like this happen again. I promise.”

“What if she smells you on me?” He asks, more to himself. I can feel his panic, his heart beating out of his chest as sweat forms on his brow. “She’d kill me.”

I can tell he’s not exaggerating when he says that, his wide eyes filled with a distant kind of fear as if he can see it clear as day, flipping through the many ways she might do it.

“Asher…” I start, but he snaps his head up, his eyes glowing blue as a warning sign, so I stop.

It’s his wolf who stopped him from kissing me. Not him.

I wonder why?

“You can think about it,” I suggest, hoping to ease his worry. “But as long as we behave like mature adults, we'll be fine. I’ll respect your boundaries because I’m beginning to care about you. We had a great conversation before this, and I want to know more.”

“I do, too,” he replies with a faraway smile, clearly checked out of the conversation.

“Promise you’ll think about it?” I ask.

He nods. “I will. We can agree to meet three days from now, and I’ll let you know.”

“Okay,” I reply, unable to hold back the hope that fills my eyes, as pathetic as it is to pine over the reluctant promise of a taken man. “I look forward to it.”