Chapter 9
The silence after Gabriel's departure was deafening.
Asher lay sprawled on the forest floor, naked and marked. He could still feel Gabriel inside him, could taste him, could smell their combined scent hanging heavy in the night air.
The guilt hit him in waves, each one worse than the last.
Asher had said nothing. Had let it happen because his own selfish desire outweighed everything else—Gabriel's wellbeing, their friendship, basic human decency.
Gabriel thought he was a monster now. Thought he'd forced himself on Ray Sutter's son in a moment of supernatural madness.
The horror in his eyes when he'd come back to himself, the self-loathing in his voice—Asher had put that there.
Had let Gabriel believe he was a monster rather than admit how badly Asher had wanted it.
A distant howl echoed through the trees—raw, anguished, barely recognizable as anything that had once been human. The sound went straight through Asher, making him flinch.
Gabriel was out there, lost in his own private hell, believing himself capable of the worst kind of violence.
Asher had to fix this. Had to find Gabriel and make him understand that nothing had been taken that wasn't freely given. That if anyone was guilty here, it was Asher for taking advantage of Gabriel's altered state.
Moving was agony. Every muscle protested as Asher pulled himself upright. Bruises were already forming on his hips, and he could feel the tender spots where teeth had marked his throat and shoulders.
He felt thoroughly used—and despite everything, the shameful pulse of heat that thought sent through him just proved how fucked up he really was. The man had just run away in horror, and Asher was still getting off on his memory.
His clothes were beyond salvaging. The shirt was ribbons, jeans missing crucial portions.
But Asher managed to tie the denim around his waist in a way that covered the essentials.
It would have to do. The whole situation felt like some kind of fucked-up fairytale—the orphan son stumbling naked through the forest, trying to fix what he'd broken through his own selfish choices.
The forest was dark, but Asher had grown up in these mountains.
Had spent summers learning to read the trails under his father's patient instruction, back when Ray still believed his son might amount to something.
Those skills had seemed useless in the city, but now they might be the only way to save what mattered most.
Gabriel's trail was easy to follow at first. Broken branches, disturbed undergrowth, the occasional footprint in soft earth. But as Asher moved deeper into the trees, the signs became more subtle. Claw marks on bark. The lingering scent of musk and misery.
He was a werewolf. An actual werewolf. The thought should have been terrifying, but instead it just made everything make more sense. The way Gabriel had always seemed to hold himself apart. The intensity in his eyes. The way he'd always insisted on visiting during specific times, avoiding others.
Ray must have known. His father had kept this secret, had helped Gabriel hide, and had never said a word to Asher about it.
The trail led up toward the rocky outcropping where Asher used to go when he wanted to be alone. It made sense that Gabriel would head there—somewhere high and isolated, somewhere he could punish himself in private.
The climb was brutal on Asher's abused body. His legs weren't steady, and the rocky terrain demanded more coordination than he possessed. Twice he had to stop and rest, breathing hard in the thin air, fighting the urge to call out Gabriel's name.
By the time he reached the summit, false dawn was beginning to lighten the eastern horizon. At first, the rocky clearing appeared empty, and Asher's heart seized with terror. The possibility that Gabriel might have hurt himself was too awful to contemplate.
Then he spotted the figure slumped against a boulder at the far edge, staring at the sunrise, and relief nearly brought him to his knees.
Gabriel was alive. Even in his misery, he was breathtaking—all lean muscle and silver-touched skin in the pre-dawn light. His broad shoulders were hunched with grief, head hanging low. The position made him look smaller somehow, this powerful man reduced to something broken.
The sight made Asher's chest ache with a guilt so sharp it stole his breath.
This was what Asher had done to him. This broken, beautiful man who now thought himself a monster.
"Gabriel," Asher called softly.
Gabriel's head snapped up, and even in misery, he was devastating.
Silver hair tousled by wind and transformation, falling across his forehead in a way that made him look younger, more vulnerable.
Those blue eyes—usually so controlled, so carefully neutral—now burned with self-recrimination.
The shadows under them spoke of exhaustion beyond the physical.
His jaw was clenched so tight Asher could see the muscle jumping beneath the skin.
Even now, even broken like this, Asher still wanted him with an intensity that should have shamed him.
"You shouldn't be here," Gabriel said, voice hoarse. Raw, like he'd been screaming. Or howling. "It's not safe. I'm not safe."
The way he said it made Asher want to laugh and cry simultaneously. Gabriel thought he was dangerous, thought he might hurt Asher again, when the real damage had been done by Asher's choices.
"Stop," Asher replied, taking another step forward.
Gabriel flinched—actually flinched, like Asher's presence caused him physical pain.
The movement was so unlike the steady, unshakeable Gabriel of his memories that it made Asher's stomach twist. He was more afraid of himself than Asher had ever been of him.
"You don't understand," Gabriel continued, not moving from his slump against the boulder.
His hands were clenched into fists, knuckles white, like he was physically holding himself in place.
"What I did to you—I forced myself on you.
Lost control completely. I didn't even know if you'd... if I'd hurt you badly, or?—"
The way his voice broke on that last word, his eyes haunted at the thought of having caused real damage, made Asher's guilt multiply tenfold. Gabriel wasn't just horrified by his actions—he'd been sitting here imagining the worst, probably picturing Asher broken and bleeding somewhere.
"You think I'm here because I'm hurt?" Asher interrupted, still advancing.
"Gabriel, when I realized you'd run, when I heard you howling.
.." His voice cracked. The sound had been so full of anguish, so inhuman, that Asher had run faster than he'd thought possible.
"I thought you might hurt yourself. Because of what I did.”
Gabriel's eyes widened, confusion replacing some of the self-loathing. “ You did? You mean what I did to you."
“No,” Asher corrected. He needed Gabriel to understand this, needed to lift even a fraction of the guilt crushing him. "I could have said no. Tried to get away. But I said nothing—because I wanted it.”
Gabriel's expression shifted, something almost like hope flickering before being crushed by denial. The play of emotions across his face was mesmerizing—Gabriel had always been so controlled, so careful with what he let show. Now every feeling was written plainly, raw and exposed.
"You couldn't have known?—"
"Bullshit." The word came out harsh. "I knew you weren't yourself. Knew something was wrong. But I wanted you so badly that I let it happen anyway. Let you think you were forcing me, because I was too selfish to give up the only chance with you I might ever have."
Gabriel shook his head, denial written across his face. "No, the moon—what I am—you couldn't possibly?—"
"I've wanted you since I turned eighteen," Asher said, the confession tumbling out. "Three years of thinking I was a fucked-up little creep for wanting my father's best friend. And tonight, when you finally wanted me back—even if it was just the moon—I took that opportunity."
"You don't understand what you're saying," Gabriel said. "I marked you. Claimed you like an animal. Could have killed you?—"
"You didn't hurt me." Asher reached out carefully, not quite touching, though his fingers ached to make contact. To offer comfort he had no right to give. "Every mark, every bite—I wanted all of it. Have been dreaming about it for years."
The admission was pathetic, really. All this time, and he was still hung up on his father's best friend. Still desperate for the approval and attention of someone who'd probably only tolerated him out of loyalty to Ray.
But watching Gabriel process this information—the way his eyes widened, the slight parting of his lips, the confusion mixing with something that might have been hope—made the humiliation worth it.
"You can't want this," Gabriel breathed. "Can't want me. Not after what you know I am."
"I want exactly this," Asher said. "You. Whatever you are."
Even if Gabriel was a werewolf. Especially if he was a werewolf. Because apparently Asher had no self-preservation instincts whatsoever, no ability to want things that were good for him.
Every random hookup, every client, every time he closed his eyes it had been Gabriel he was thinking about. Which probably said something deeply unhealthy about his attachment issues, but that was a problem for another day.
"Christ," Gabriel muttered. Then, quieter: "I've wanted you just as long. My wolf recognized you as a potential mate. I've been fighting it ever since."
"So we're both idiots," Asher said.
"Apparently."
And then Gabriel did something Asher hadn't expected—he grinned.
Not a small, careful smile, but a real grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes and transformed his whole face.
Even naked and vulnerable on a mountaintop, he looked suddenly younger, almost boyish.
The expression was so unexpected, so genuinely amused despite everything, that Asher's heart did something complicated in his chest.
Before he could second-guess himself, before the moment could pass, Asher leaned forward and kissed him.
Not desperate like before, not rough or claiming, but soft and intentional. Gabriel's lips were chapped from the mountain air, but they parted for him immediately, welcoming him in.
They sat in silence for a moment after pulling apart, the weight of mutual confession settling over them. The sky was lightening steadily, painting the mountains in shades of purple and gold.
"What happens now?" Asher asked.
"I don't know," Gabriel admitted. "This changes everything. You know what I am. What I'm capable of. The moon will come again next month, and I'll?—"
"You'll lock yourself in that stone building like always," Asher said. "Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless I'm there with you."
Gabriel's intake of breath was sharp. "You can't be serious."
"Why not? We both want it. Now we both know we want it. Why keep fighting?"
"Because you're twenty one. Because I knew your father. Because you deserve better than a monster who loses control once a month."
Asher was finally brave enough to reach out and touch Gabriel's face. "I don't want better. I want you."
Gabriel leaned into the touch despite himself, eyes closing. "This is insane. Your father would?—"
"My dad’s dead," Asher said gently. "And he never understood me. You did, though. You always saw me more clearly than he did."
Gabriel opened his eyes, and the hunger there made Asher's breath catch. Not the moon's hunger this time—just Gabriel's.
Before Asher could say anything more, before either of them could overthink it, Gabriel closed the distance between them and kissed him under the lightening sky.