6. Asher
CHAPTER SIX
ASHER
The first thing I noticed was the ache.
A sharp, persistent pain throbbed through my leg, making me grit my teeth before I was even fully awake.
The second thing I noticed was the vibration.
A low, constant hum surrounded me, jostling my body just enough to make my stomach roll.
I blinked my eyes open and tried to focus.
Dark. Cramped. The scent of old leather and metal.
Luggage. Rows of them. The realization clicked into place, my thoughts sluggish and hazy. I was lying in a train’s baggage hold.
Panic shot through me, and I jerked up, only to collapse back down with a muffled groan as a hot spike of pain shot up my leg.
I gasped, the air sharp in my lungs.
“Easy there, hunter.”
The voice, deep and smooth with just the slightest hint of amusement, washed over me.
I turned my head toward it, my vision adjusting to the dim light.
Gael was sitting a few feet away, his back against a stack of suitcases, arms loosely draped over his bent knees.
His eyes were dark, shadowed with something I couldn’t place. Concern, maybe?
No. That couldn’t be right.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice softer this time.
I swallowed, my throat dry and raw. “Like I got shot in the leg.”
He smirked, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, that’s because you did.”
I dragged my gaze down to my leg. A clean bandage wrapped tightly around my thigh.
I lifted a trembling hand to touch it, almost disbelieving.
Gael did this?
I couldn’t reconcile the image of the ruthless vampire I knew with someone who would stop to patch up a human, let alone me .
I glanced back at him. His face was unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line.
“You… you did this?” My voice came out rough, almost accusatory.
His brow lifted.
“Who else was going to? The tooth fairy?” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
I exhaled slowly, trying to push down the confusion and bitterness clawing at my gut.
“Thanks,” I muttered, though the word felt foreign on my tongue.
Gael’s gaze lingered on me for a beat longer than necessary before he pushed himself to his feet in one smooth motion.
“We’re on a train, by the way,” he said, his tone casual. “In case you haven’t figured that out yet.”
“I figured,” I grumbled.
Gael’s lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he nodded toward the door at the far end of the hold.
“I’ll be right back,” Gael said.
Before I could ask where he was going, he slipped through the door, disappearing into the narrow corridor beyond.
The silence he left behind felt heavier than it should have.
I took a shaky breath, my fingers curling into the rough fabric of the blanket beneath me.
My leg pulsed in time with my heartbeat, but the pain was manageable now.
What wasn’t manageable was the mess in my head.
The memories of what had happened—the bullet, the look on the two hunters’ faces as they pulled the trigger—burned behind my eyes.
They really intended to kill me. Me. One of their own.
A bitter taste filled my mouth.
Before I could spiral further, the door creaked open, and Gael returned, a bottled water and a wrapped sandwich in his hands.
He crouched next to me and held them out.
“Stole these from the food cart,” he said, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t worry. I didn’t take a sip from anyone.”
I glared at him, but the corners of my mouth twitched despite myself. It was a joke.
A terrible, morbid joke, but a joke nonetheless.
I snatched the water from his hand, twisted off the cap, and took a long, greedy drink.
The cool liquid soothed my dry throat, and I sighed with relief.
“Thanks,” I muttered again, more sincerely this time.
He didn’t respond, just handed me the sandwich. I took it, unwrapping it slowly, my fingers trembling slightly.
As I bit into the stale bread and cold meat, I finally forced myself to ask the question gnawing at the back of my mind.
“What happened to the hunters?” I asked.
Gael’s eyes darkened. “I handled it.”
The cold finality in his voice made my stomach twist. I knew what “handled” meant. They were dead. My former allies. My friends.
No, Not my friends any longer, I reminded myself. I looked away, guilt and anger churning inside me.
Gael’s ruthlessness clashed with everything I believed in, everything I thought I stood for.
His willingness to do whatever it took, to cross lines I never would have dared, made me question where I truly stood.
But how could I argue with him?
Those same hunters hadn’t hesitated to shoot me down, to treat me as nothing more than a target.
They didn’t didn’t give me another chance to explain myself or my intentions. They saw a threat, and they acted.
And honestly, after everything the Guild put Finn through, why was I even surprised?
They’d always operated this way. Absolute, unyielding, and merciless.
Maybe I’d just been naive, clinging to a sense of justice that didn’t exist.
I forced down another bite of the sandwich, the food tasting like ash in my mouth.
Silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension.
I didn’t know how to feel about Gael anymore, didn’t know how to feel about anything .
Eventually, the weight of it all became too much. I let out a shaky breath and leaned my head back against the cold metal wall.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Gael’s gaze softened, a flicker of something almost human passing through his eyes. “Do what?”
“Any of it. Trusting you. Not trusting you. Being hunted by my own people.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard. “It’s all… fucked.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then, to my surprise, he shifted closer, his shoulder brushing against mine.
The contact was fleeting, just a brush of skin against skin, but it sent an unexpected warmth spreading through my chest.
It was startling, disarming even. Weren’t vampires supposed to burn cold? That’s what I’d always believed.
“You think I know how to do this?” Gael murmured. “I don’t. I’ve spent decades knowing exactly who I was, what my purpose was. And now…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “Now everything feels like it’s slipping away.”
I turned my head to look at him.
His profile was sharp, his expression guarded, but there was a vulnerability there that I’d never seen before.
It made my chest ache for some unexplainable reason.
“Before Gabriel,” Gael continued, his voice low, “I was Beric’s favorite. I had a place. A purpose. And now…” He let out a bitter laugh. “Now I’m chasing ghosts. Failing. And for what?”
The pain in his voice surprised me. I’d never thought of Gael as someone who could feel lost.
He always seemed so sure, so confident. But maybe that was just another lie.
I didn’t know what possessed me to do it, but I reached out and covered his hand with mine.
The contact sent a jolt through me, hot and electric, even though his skin was cool.
His fingers twitched under my touch, but he didn’t pull away.
Instead, he let his palm slowly turn, his fingers sliding between mine, interlocking.
The solidity of it grounded me, but it also sparked something deeper. A longing I didn’t want to examine too closely.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said softly, the words a fragile promise.
Gael turned his head, his eyes meeting mine.
That intensity swallowed me whole, a storm of emotions swirling in his dark gaze. Need, fear, desire. It stole my breath, left me raw and vulnerable.
My pulse pounded, loud in my ears. For a moment, the space between us felt like a live wire, crackling with suppressed energy.
I couldn’t stop myself. Didn’t want to. Before I could second-guess it, I leaned in, my breath shallow and quick.
Our lips met, tentative at first. A hesitant brush that ignited a slow, smoldering heat.
Gael’s mouth was cool against mine, but the way he kissed me set fire to every nerve in my body.
His lips moved carefully, almost reverently, as if he was afraid of breaking me. But I didn’t want careful. I wanted him.
A low sound escaped me, part frustration, part desperation, and I pressed harder, my fingers tightening around his hand.
That was all it took. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating between us, and his restraint snapped.
His other hand came up, cupping the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, holding me in place as he deepened the kiss.
His mouth moved against mine with a hunger that stole my thoughts, left me spiraling into sensation.
His fangs grazed my lower lip, a teasing scrape that sent a shiver down my spine.
I gasped into his mouth, and he took the invitation, his tongue sweeping in to claim mine.
The kiss turned wild, messy, all our frustration and confusion bleeding out into this fevered connection.
My world narrowed to the feel of him. His lips, his hands, the way his body leaned into mine, close enough that I could feel the tension coiled within him.
I let go of his hand, my own sliding up his chest, fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt as if I could anchor myself there.
His chest rose and fell rapidly under my touch, and knowing that he was just as affected as I was sent a thrill through me.
I pulled back just enough to gasp for air, my forehead resting against his.
My lungs burned, my heart a frantic drumbeat against my ribs. Gael’s eyes were half-lidded, his pupils blown wide with desire.
His presence enveloped me, cool and intoxicating, but his gaze burned hotter than anything I’d ever felt.
“Asher,” he murmured, my name a rough plea, a question.
I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I surged forward and kissed him again, harder this time, our teeth clashing, lips bruising.
His fingers tightened in my hair, pulling just enough to make me groan.
I loved that edge of pain, loved how it blurred into pleasure when he soothed the sting with his lips.
I didn’t care about the world outside this train, the betrayal, the blood on both our hands. For this moment, there was only Gael.
Only the heat that bloomed between us, the hunger that twisted in my gut and spread like wildfire through my veins.
We finally broke apart, gasping, foreheads still pressed together.
The silence was heavy with everything we weren’t saying, everything we couldn’t say.
Gael’s thumb brushed over my lower lip, his eyes softening just a fraction.
“Still think it’s all fucked?” he whispered, his voice low and rough.
I managed a shaky laugh, my breath hitching.
“Yeah,” I rasped, my voice unsteady. “But maybe it’s a little less fucked now.”
His lips curved into a smile. A real, unguarded smile and it was so beautiful it made my chest ache.
He rested his forehead against mine, his fingers still tangled in my hair. And for the first time in days, maybe longer, I didn’t feel completely lost.
In this mess of chaos and uncertainty, this fragile, stolen moment felt like something real.
It was absurd, really, to find any kind of clarity in the midst of all this, but there it was. Maybe I was lying to myself, trying to make sense of something that shouldn’t exist.
Maybe it was the wound, bleeding me of my usual logic, clouding my ability to think straight.
This strange pull between us, this undeniable attraction, shouldn’t have been possible.
It defied every rule, every boundary I’d ever known. But then again, nothing had made sense lately.