Asher (8 page)

“Ash is like a brother to me. He’s been through a lot and doesn’t need your attitude.”

Okay.
A dozen angry retorts rise to my lips—
you’re worried about him? What about me? And what about the fact he let me down first? Or that his father killed mine?
—but I can’t get a single one out, because... Because they make me sound selfish. I have been selfish and I’m trying to get over that.

“I just need to know.” I rub my eyes. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. I don’t—”

“Tessa told me what happened. I swear I had no idea his dad’s such an ass.”

“Not many people do,” Zane replies stiffly. “Ash wouldn’t want them to.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll tell him you called.”

“Please let me come over, Zane.”

“Why?”

Right.
“I blamed him for everything. And he knows it. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Zane snorts. “And now you want to apologize?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe isn’t enough. I understand why you blamed him. But if you’re not sure you feel differently now, then...”

I wait. “Then what?”

He grunts. “I was going to say stay away from him, but that’s what Dylan told him concerning you, and I won’t. I’m not his keeper; just his friend.”

Dylan told Ash that?
Holy crap.
“Does that mean I can come over?”

Zane swears under his breath. “If you promise you’ll play nice...”

“Promise. Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow afternoon, because tomorrow evening I’m going out of town and I’m not leaving Ash alone with you.”

Ouch.
I guess I deserve that. “See you around six.”

***

In the end, I don’t go alone: I end up heading there with Dakota. The moment she hears I’m going over to Zane’s, she clings to me like a leech and insists on tagging along.

Which is weird. Does she have a thing about Zane?

More like an obsession, a thing that becomes obvious the moment Zane answers the door, his Mohawk dyed now a dark blue. A long-sleeved blouse hides the colorful tattoos on his arms.

He arches his pierced eyebrow at us.

“Hi Zane.” Dakota waves, a huge grin on her face. “I’m a friend of Audrey’s, nice to meet you.”

God, can she get any more obvious? I’m mortified for her sake.

But Zane only seems amused by this development, a corner of his mouth lifting. “Come on in, girls.” He gives me a hard look as I enter but says nothing more.

The apartment is quiet, the living room with its framed drawings and big black sofa empty. I glance around, hoping to see Ash, but he isn’t there.

Dakota doesn’t seem to recall the reason we’ve come over. She grabs my hand and drags me over to a framed print of one of Zane’s drawings.

“This is amazing,” she gushes. “See how bold the lines are, and how subtle the coloring? He’s a genius. Oh my god, I’m dying to get one.”

“Girl, you’re full of tattoos already,” I say, distracted. Where the hell is Ash? Did he leave when he found out I was coming over?

“You like ink?” Zane comes to stand next to her, interest in his dark gaze. He sucks on the barbell in his tongue. It’s distracting.

“You’re a god,” Dakota says and I roll my eyes. “I’ve been saving money to come to your shop and get an ink done.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Apparently she doesn’t even need to think about it. “A dragon tat. Like the ones you did for your gang.”

The light goes out of Zane’s slanted eyes. They go flat in an instant. “Who told you about the tats?”

She shrugs. “I’ve seen Rafe’s. He plays in my band.”

“Out of the question,” Zane grates. “That kind of tat isn’t for you. Find something else.”

Dakota bites her lip. “You don’t know me. How can you tell if it’s not for me?”

Okay, this conversation is way over my head. I’m not sure what they were really talking about, and I have other things on my mind right now.

“Show me your ink,” Zane says.

And just like that, Dakota starts to undress, pulling her turquoise blouse over her head.

Whoa.

I step back, leaving them to their thing. I turn around—and freeze.

Ash is there, leaning against the doorjamb, watching me from hooded eyes, arms folded over his broad chest. His dark hair falls to his forehead in shiny strands. I remember how soft it felt against my fingers when he carried me.

His lips part and I try to tear my gaze away when he moves. His pale blue eyes keep me still, but I don’t see anger there. Only wariness and curiosity.

It’s then I notice the dark bruises along his jaw and under his eye. There’s also a stiffness in the way he moves that brings a lump to my throat.

He walks past me to the long, black sofa and I’m left staring at his strong back and cute ass, my mind blank.

Jesus, Audrey.
I look away, my face heating.

“What do you want?” Ash asks, his voice low and hard. Ah, there’s the anger I missed in his eyes.

“To see you.”

He sits down and looks away.

I make myself move. I step to the other end of the sofa and sit down. I feel like I had when I played a theater part during elementary school. Stage fright.

I will the words to come but there’s a blank forming in my mind where my thoughts should be.

Seeing him from up close is making things worse. My brain is too busy taking in his image, his beautiful features, his strong body; having its usual short-circuit.

He leans forward, dangling his hands between his denim-clad knees. His dark hair falls in his face, hiding his expression. I can’t take my eyes off his long fingers, and the fresh, red scar on his knuckles. Can’t help thinking he got that saving me.

“You guys want a drink?” Zane asks, and Dakota—thankfully fully dressed again—is already heading toward the kitchen as if she owns the place.

When neither of us say anything, Zane shrugs and turns to follow her.

Leaving us alone in the room.

“So...” Ash raises his eyes and licks his lips.

God, the gesture sends tingles all over my skin. I open my mouth to speak but can’t remember what I want to say. My body always knows how much I want Ash, even when my mind is confused.

“Your ankle seems better,” he says.

I nod, dumbly. I have to speak, tell him, ask him... Nothing comes out of my lips. My head is an echoing empty room.

Silence stretches.

His dark brows draw together. “Well, if you have nothing to say...” He gets up and strides across the living room, leaving me there.

“Wait.” I shoot to my feet, almost tripping over myself, and hurry after him. I want to say I’m sorry, but I’ve barely touched his arm when he spins around.

Now he advances on me, his gaze furious, and I back away, shocked. He pushes me until my back hits the wall, and then he leans over me.

I suddenly have the full length of his tall, muscled body pressed against me. I put my hands on his chest, pushing in vain against his rock-hard abs, caught between giddiness and fear.

“Ash...”

“What do you want from me?” He bites each word out, his hand coming to rest next to my head on the wall. “What is it you want?”

“I want...” I don’t know. All I know is I hate the anger in his eyes, hate the tension in his body, the bruises on his face. I want to hold him. I reach up, brush my fingertips along his square jaw. “You.”

He blinks, eyes widening.

What have I said?

You.

Oh god, I really said it.

As it sinks in, I open my mouth to fix this—but he doesn’t give me the chance. His bigger hand catches mine, keeping it on his cheek. Under his skin, I can feel a vein pulsing madly, his heart pounding.

“You don’t want me,” he says, his voice hoarse, and his gaze searches mine as if it’s a question and he’s waiting for an answer. “I’m no good.”

Again that barely there question mark at the end of his statement.

Or maybe I’m imagining it. I’m caught in his beauty. I love his wolf-like eyes, silver-blue with a darker rim, shaded by long lashes. And his lips... They’re perfect. I rise on my tiptoes to kiss them. He’s like gravity, pulling me close.

“You should stay away,” he says, softly, but his mouth descends on mine, sealing my lips, marking them with fire. His tongue invades my mouth.

He tastes of lightning and dark spice. He draws me in, and I’m lost and falling, his hard arousal a counterpoint to the hot throb between my legs.

Closer. I want to feel him closer. My hand drops from his chest to his hip and snakes around, pressing into the small of his back.

Big mistake. Ash jerks back with a groan and slams his other hand on the wall, missing my face by an inch.

What the hell?
“Ash, what—?”

“Leave,” he spits and steps back, away from me. “You were right to hate me, Auds. Stay away.”

I watch him go, my lips burning, my heart sinking. Like gravity, he lets me think I’m flying only to let me slam into the ground once again.

Chapter Eight

Asher

What the fuck is wrong with me? I pushed her into the wall, and then kissed her. Forcing myself on her. Again.

And then she pressed her hand into the bruises on my back, startling me, and I slammed my hand right into the wall. Scaring her.

Turning violent.

Turning into my dad.

Christ.

I bang the bathroom door shut behind me and brace my hands on the sink. What the hell is she doing here? Zane didn’t tell me she was coming or I’d have left the apartment.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell me.
Fucker.
He knows me too well.

And she has no right to be here, so sweet and beautiful, with her curves and pretty eyes, with that faint scar on her cheek that makes me ache with the need to hold her. Turning my mind to mush, making me want to forget about my resolutions and just be with her, bury myself in her so deep I become one with her.

Not having to face the real world.

Fantasies. I can’t afford them. I can’t hope in anything. Lesson learned.

Besides, she isn’t offering hope. Hasn’t offered anything. I just take and take.

I want you.
She said that. Stammered it. I heard it.
Right?
I’m not sure anymore. She looked confused afterward. Maybe I imagined it. Or maybe I scared her and she panicked, blurting out things she didn’t mean. Things I wanted to hear so badly.

I bend my head, sucking in a shaky breath. Seeing her, being close to her is like drugs. Addictive. Dangerous.

A royally bad idea.

Two weeks ago it wouldn’t have been so bad. But now... Now I’ve made my decision and met people to help me see it through.

I’ve walked the streets again, went to joints I frequented months ago, during my previous escape from home sweet home. Joints where guys meet to fight for money, in dark basements, in rusty cages. Where bets are placed and dirty bills exchange hands for a taste of borrowed adrenaline, fear and spilled blood. For death.

They know me at The Bulldog, where I fought once to let out some of my rage. At least in the fight club I know when someone will attack me; I know the cage is the stage and what is expected of me.

This time I’m gonna fight for money. For a chance to live.

Two weeks ago I wasn’t doing anything illegal and potentially lethal.

Now I’m about to and I should keep Audrey out of it. Out of my fucked up life.

Now if only she leaves before I get out of this goddamn bathroom, I might just be able to hold on to this new resolution.

***

Audrey is still there. I hear her voice as soon as I exit the bathroom, and I stall, my treacherous body reacting as if it’s been struck with a live wire. A shiver runs down my spine and I harden, remembering the kiss, the feel of her lips, her sweet taste, her soft body pressed against mine.

Fucking hell.

I reach down to adjust myself and suck in breath after breath, trying to get my dick to back down.

Down, boy. Not for you.

Yeah...

Why isn’t she leaving? Haven’t I been nasty enough to her? Why did she stick around?

Maybe she hasn’t come for me. Maybe it was her friend, this punk chick, who brought her along. Yeah, that makes sense. This girl, Dakota, is obviously hot for Zane, and probably dragged Audrey along, against her will.

And why the hell does the thought disappoint me? Haven’t I just decided Audrey should keep away from me? That it’s good she hates me?

I’m fucked up in the head.

Straightening my aching back, I force myself to move, go back to where the others are sitting. I lean on the doorjamb, looking at them. At the sofa.

My living quarters, where I can never be alone or have any privacy. I have no belongings, no door to shut when I feel like it.

One day, I tell myself. I’ll see my plan through, and I’ll earn enough to have a place of my own, hell, a room of my own, like any normal person. A car to move about. The right to order pizza late at night if I want to.

A safe place where I can lock the door and sleep peacefully. Something that’s becoming rare these days. I can’t count the times I woke up drenched in cold sweat. I keep seeing myself opening the door to the house and knowing a punch is coming for me. Or finding myself on the floor, unable to move as pain lances through me, knowing I’m going to die.

“Ash.” Zane comes to where I’m leaning on the doorframe, grabs my arm and drags me into the living room. I let him manhandle me because I don’t trust myself to jerk away. I think if I move a single muscle, I might start punching people.

I have to calm down.

So I let Zane shove me down on the sofa and push a drink into my hands. Cold, wet. A beer. I clasp it reflexively.

Dakota is perched on the armrest of the sofa and Audrey sits in the armchair. Apart from me. At a distance.

Good. Better for her. I have to believe that but, god, it’s tough when she’s right here and I’m looking straight at her.

I force my gaze down to my sweating beer bottle and swallow. Damn, I’m hard. Again.

Shit.

I keep my bottle in a strategic position, hiding as much as I can, and try to think of other stuff to will the erection away. Like my history teacher’s face from high school. My lack of money and what I’m about to do to fix that. My father’s fists.

Okay, that last thought kills my erection in two seconds flat, making it a new record.

“Earth to Ash.” Zane is waving a hand in front of my face. When did he sit beside me? “Did you hear what Audrey said?”

“What?” I frown at my beer, not sure I want to know.

“She says she’s inviting you over for Christmas.”

I shake my head. I can’t be hearing well.

“Come over to my place,” she says, her voice low and hesitant. “Everyone else will be out of town. We can eat together.”

“No.” The word spills from my lips before I even think about it. I don’t need to think about it. “No.”

Zane winces. “Come on, fucker, she’s being real nice. It’s Christmas. You can’t stay here all by yourself.”

“Sure I can.”

There’s pain in her eyes and I curse softly, my chest tightening so much I have to reach up and rub it. I hate causing her pain—but it’s for her own good.

Have to keep reminding myself that.

She gets up, not looking at me, and her voice is thick when she says, “Think about it. Please, Ash. I’d love you to come.”

Goddammit.
She doesn’t sound like she’s faking it. I’ve wished for her to speak those words a thousand times in the past. Would have given my right arm to hear them.

You have to be careful what you wish for in this messed-up world.

***

“She was trying to be nice,” Zane mutters after Audrey and Dakota have left. He runs his hands through the stubble on the sides of his shaved head. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Many things,” I say. “Want a list?”

“Shut up.”

“You asked.”

Zane comes to stand over me, wearing a dark scowl. “You think you’re funny?”

I shrug. “Do
you
think I’m funny?”

“Dammit, Ash.” He straightens. “I didn’t want to let her come ’cause I thought she’d be a bitch. Turns out it’s you I should have been worried about.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, fucker. You could at least be civil. You could be friends.”

“She doesn’t need a friend like me.”

“The hell she doesn’t. What the fuck does that even mean—
a friend like me
?” He mimics my voice, making a face. “This is bull and you know it.”

“If you say so.” I don’t need this shit.

“You’re one of the most decent guys I know, Ash. So get your head out of your ass and head over for Christmas.”

That is
so
not happening. I set my beer on the table, my hands shaking. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your trip?”

“Trying to get rid of me? The voice of reason?”

“Kiss my ass, Z-man.”

“No, thank you, I’m good. Going to pack now.”

He leaves to his bedroom and I sit staring at the opposite wall. Christmas. It’s in two days. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.

Time passes so fast. What do I have to show for it? I need to set my plan into motion to earn enough money, find a place to stay, return to my evening classes and finish my GED. That may open some doors.

Land me a better job. A legal one.

And then maybe Audrey will...

Will what? Don’t be such an idiot.
Too many ifs in my plan—go back to the club, make them take me on. And win. Preferably without getting crippled for life.

Fuck Christmas. I’m not going to Audrey’s or anywhere else for that matter. I’ll train. I’ll be ready. I can do this. For once in my life I have a goal.

I’m gonna turn my life around.