10. Asher
CHAPTER TEN
ASHER
The cold air gnawed at my skin, sharp and relentless. Each step sent a bolt of pain through my leg, but stopping wasn’t an option.
Gael was just ahead of me, his dark silhouette fluid against the fading light of the forest.
He turned back every few steps, eyes narrowed, jaw tight.
That look, the one that said he was ready to snap or snarl, was so familiar by now that I almost found comfort in it. Almost.
“Keep up, Asher,” he growled, his voice low and impatient.
I clenched my jaw. “I’m trying.”
The ground was uneven, roots twisting underfoot, the forest floor a maze of obstacles.
Every time I thought I’d found my balance, my leg reminded me I wasn’t whole.
The bullet wound pulsed like a second heartbeat, hot and sharp. I felt useless. Weak. And Gael’s hovering wasn’t helping.
We both agreed that leaving the town was best, yet entering the Hollow Vale woods now felt like a bad idea.
My foot caught on something, and I stumbled.
Before I hit the ground, Gael’s hands were on me, one arm around my waist, the other gripping my forearm.
The sudden closeness made me inhale sharply. He was cold, always cold, but there was strength in his grip, steady and unyielding.
“Stubborn idiot,” he muttered. “You’re going to fall over before we make it.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped, even though we both knew it was a lie.
My pride was hanging by a thread.
Gael’s eyes met mine, dark and unreadable. The space between us felt charged, the silence stretching until it was almost unbearable.
Then, with a soft sigh, he eased me back to my feet, his hold loosening but not leaving.
“There’s a cabin up ahead,” he said.
I didn’t ask how he knew. He probably spotted it with his superior vision.
I just nodded, grateful for the promise of shelter, no matter how temporary.
We pushed on, my steps slowing with every passing minute.
The pain blurred the edges of my vision, and exhaustion settled in my bones.
Gael’s grip on me grew firmer, his arm practically a lifeline. I hated it. Hated needing him.
But I couldn’t deny that without him, I’d have collapsed long ago. Finally, through the dense tangle of trees, the cabin emerged.
It was small, with faded wood and a sagging roof, but it was something. A place to hide, to breathe.
Gael didn’t wait for me to ask for help. He guided me up the creaky steps and into the dark interior.
The door groaned as it shut behind us, sealing us off from the outside world. The silence was almost deafening.
“Sit,” Gael ordered, pointing to a worn-out couch near the wall.
I bristled at his tone but didn’t have the energy to fight him.
I limped over and sank down with a low groan, my leg screaming in relief.
The cabin was cold, but it was dry, and for the moment, it felt like safety. Gael crouched in front of me, his eyes flicking to my leg.
His brow furrowed, and without a word, he started to unlace my boot.
I flinched as he eased it off, the motion sending fresh waves of pain through me.
“Jesus, give a guy a warning,” I hissed.
He didn’t respond, just focused on peeling away the blood-soaked bandage.
His fingers were gentle, surprisingly so, and that gentleness unraveled something in me.
I swallowed hard, staring at the top of his head, at the way his dark hair fell into his eyes.
“This might sting,” he muttered.
The words were barely out before he pressed a clean cloth to the wound.
Fire raced up my leg, and I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. My breath came in harsh gasps.
“Fuck,” I ground out.
Gael’s eyes lifted to mine. There was no mockery in them, no usual smirk. Just a quiet intensity that I didn’t know how to handle.
“It’s not as bad as it could be,” he said softly. “But you need to rest.”
He started cleaning the wound, his touch efficient but careful.
I watched him work, trying to make sense of this version of him. The one who was keeping me alive.
He finished wrapping the wound, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
When he looked up, our faces were too close. I could see the faint lines around his eyes, the tension in his jaw.
The air between us was thick, charged with something I didn’t want to name.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
The word felt inadequate, but it was all I had.
His eyes softened, just a fraction. “Don’t mention it.”
I expected him to pull away, to retreat behind his usual armor.
But he stayed there, his knees on the worn wooden floor, his hands resting on my thigh.
All I could feel was the steady pressure of his hands, the coolness of his skin against mine.
I didn’t know what possessed me, but I reached out, my fingers brushing against his cheek.
His eyes widened, surprise flickering there. He didn’t pull away.
“Gael…” I started, but the words caught in my throat.
His lips parted slightly.
“Don’t,” he murmured. “Not unless you mean it.”
I wasn’t sure what I meant. My mind was a mess of contradictions, but my body knew.
My heart pounded, my skin prickling with awareness. I leaned forward, the world narrowing to just this. Just him.
Our lips met, tentative and searching. The kiss was nothing like I expected. It wasn’t rough or angry; it was soft, almost hesitant.
Gael’s mouth was cool, but his touch was electric, sending a shock through me.
I pressed closer, my hand sliding to the back of his neck, holding him there like he might disappear if I let go.
He kissed me back, the pressure deepening, his fingers tightening on my thigh. Heat curled low in my belly, chasing away the cold.
I didn’t think about the past or the future, just the now. The feel of his mouth on mine, the way his body leaned into me, solid and real.
This was the third time we kissed, but this time, I wasn’t as conflicted about it.
When we finally pulled back, my breath came in ragged gasps. His eyes were wide, his mask shattered. He looked almost…vulnerable.
“That was…” he started, but he didn’t finish.
I nodded, my throat tight. “Yeah.”
Silence settled over us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with everything unsaid. Everything we weren’t ready to admit.
He stood up slowly, his hands slipping away from me. I felt the loss of his touch like a physical ache.
“We should get some rest,” he said, his voice rough.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He turned away, but I saw the way his shoulders tensed, like he was fighting something.
I leaned back against the couch, my leg throbbing, my heart even more so.
The ache in my leg was a dull throb now, a low pulse of pain that never quite let me forget how close I’d come to losing everything.
I was healing, slowly, but weakness lingered in my muscles, making every movement feel like dragging dead weight.
I pushed myself to sit up on the worn-out couch, my fingers gripping the edge of the cushions as I forced my body to cooperate.
The air inside the cabin was cold, but it was a safe kind of cold. It was far better than the biting chill of the forest outside.
Gael moved somewhere behind me, the quiet rustle of his movements a constant reminder that I wasn’t alone.
“Don’t strain yourself,” Gael said, his voice low but edged with irritation. “You’ll just tear it open again.”
I exhaled sharply, trying to bite back my frustration. “I’m not going to sit here like some helpless idiot.”
He didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, I thought he’d just let it go.
But then I felt him move closer, his presence like a shadow curling around me.
“You’re not helpless,” he said quietly, almost too quietly. His eyes, dark and unreadable, pinned me to the spot. “You’re just not invincible. Neither of us are.”
I clenched my jaw, looking away. The words cut deep because they were true.
Vulnerability wasn’t something I knew how to handle, not in myself, and especially not in front of Gael.
The fact that he was here, helping me, witnessing me in this state, made something twist inside my chest.
I heard him sigh, a soft exhale of frustration or maybe resignation.
He turned away, heading for the door to check the makeshift barricade we’d set up.
The cabin was barely holding together, its walls creaking with age, but for now, it was the best we had.
The silence stretched between us as Gael inspected the window frames, testing the rotted wood and making sure the shutters were secure.
His movements were deliberate, controlled, but there was a tension in his shoulders, a tightness in his jaw that I couldn’t ignore.
I hated this quiet. It was the kind that allowed thoughts to creep in, memories I’d rather bury.
I needed something to break it, something to force the air back into my lungs.
“So,” I said, “this place isn’t exactly five-star accommodations.”
Gael snorted softly. “You’re welcome to leave if you want.”
I almost smiled, the corner of my mouth twitching. “Tempting.”
He turned to look at me, his eyes glinting with something close to amusement.
For a second, the weight between us eased. But then it settled back, heavier than before.
He walked back toward me, his footsteps soft against the old wooden floor.
He didn’t sit, just leaned against the wall opposite me, arms crossed.
His gaze flicked over me, assessing, like he was searching for something he couldn’t find.
“Why do you do it?” he asked suddenly.
I frowned. “Do what?”
“Run yourself into the ground for a family that doesn’t seem to give a damn.”
The question sliced through me. I opened my mouth to snap back, but the words caught in my throat.
I looked away, staring at the floorboards, the dark grain twisting like veins beneath the surface.
“It’s not that simple,” I muttered. “Finn and Donovan… my brothers are all I have left.”
Gael was silent, but I felt his gaze on me, steady and unrelenting. It forced me to keep going, even though everything in me screamed to stop.
“I was supposed to protect them, especially Finn,” I said, the words dragging out of me like splinters. “After our parents died, it was just the three of us. Finn was different from Donovan and me. At one point, I thought he was the weakest of us, but I was wrong.”
I swallowed hard, the bitter taste of guilt coating my tongue.
“Finn trust the Guild, doesn’t trust me anymore. Maybe he’s right not to,” I said.
The silence that followed was suffocating. I expected Gael to scoff, to throw my failure back in my face. But he didn’t.
Instead, he stayed quiet, and when he finally spoke, his voice was softer than I’d ever heard it.
“Sometimes,” he said, his eyes distant, “the people we care about the most are the ones who cut the deepest.”
I looked up, surprised by the rawness in his tone. There was something in his eyes, a shadow of pain that mirrored my own.
“Beric?” I asked.
He nodded once, a short, jerky motion. “I’ve been with him for so long. Somewhere along the way, I stopped knowing where his loyalty ended and where his control began.”
The confession hung between us, fragile and dangerous.
It felt like we were both teetering on the edge of something, a thin line between who we were and who we were supposed to be.
“I used to think I meant something to him, to the nest,” Gael continued, his voice tight. “But maybe I was just a pawn.”
I met his gaze, my chest tightening. “Then why are you still with him?”
He laughed bitterly, the sound like shattered glass. “Sometimes it’s easier to cling to the devil you know.”
The words echoed in my head, a twisted reflection of my own choices.
I leaned back against the couch, the exhaustion creeping deeper into my bones.
My leg throbbed, but the pain felt distant now, overshadowed by something heavier.
“Maybe we’re both idiots,” I muttered.
Gael’s lips curled into a faint, almost-smile. “Maybe.”
Our eyes met, the space between us shrinking even though neither of us moved.
I felt the pull of it, the slow, magnetic draw that had nothing to do with logic or reason.
My heart pounded harder, each beat loud in my ears.
I didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was me, maybe it was him.
All I knew was that one moment we were staring at each other, and the next, his mouth was on mine.
The kiss was tentative at first, a question neither of us knew how to ask.
His lips were cool, but the pressure of them sent heat spiraling through me.
I leaned in, my fingers curling into his shirt, holding him like he might disappear if I let go.
He kissed me back, the hesitation giving way to something more urgent, more desperate.
His hand came up to cup the side of my face, his fingers threading through my hair.
The cold of his skin burned like ice against the heat of my own.
I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to feel. I boldly rested my hand on his thigh, wondering how he’d react.
Gael didn’t stop me, not until my fingers lingered on the button of his jeans. He gently placed his fingers over mine.
We pulled back slowly. His eyes were full of possessive want.
I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath me.
“I…” I started, my voice hoarse.
Gael shook his head, his eyes shadowed. “No. We can’t.”
We stared at each other, the air thick with everything we couldn’t say. The tension simmered, unresolved, like a fuse waiting to ignite.
A distant sound, a snap of a branch and a rustle of leaves, broke the spell.
Our heads whipped toward the door, the threat of the outside world crashing back in. But nothing happened.
Gael’s jaw tightened, and he took a step back.
The moment between us shattered, but the spark lingered, burning low in the pit of my stomach.
I tried to hide my disappointment. “You’re right. We can’t.”
“Not until you’re better,” Gael corrected, making my heart race.