13. Gael
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GAEL
I stood at doorway of the cabin. Asher had been reluctant to let me leave, though he hadn’t said it outright.
“I’ll be back soon with dinner,” I’d promised.
He nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease until I’d stepped outside.
Now, with the cabin tucked safely behind me, I could focus.
Asher needed food. Proper food. He was healing, but it would take more than sheer stubbornness to get him back to full strength.
The forest stretched before me, alive with quiet movements and soft sounds.
Hunting wasn’t my preferred pastime, blood was my sustenance, but I’d spent enough years among humans to know how to stalk prey.
My heightened senses gave me an advantage, and tonight, I’d use it for him.
I moved silently, my boots barely disturbing the damp ground as I tracked the faint sounds of small creatures scurrying through the underbrush.
A hare, maybe? Or a deer, if I got lucky. My fingers brushed against the trunk of a tree, the rough bark grounding me as I crouched low, scanning the area.
As I waited in the stillness of the forest, my thoughts inevitably drifted to Asher and the electrifying, mind-blowing time we’d shared in the bedroom.
My chest tightened as I replayed every detail in my mind.
The way his body had fit against mine, the warmth of his touch, the quiet vulnerability in his eyes that he only let me see.
No one had ever made me feel the way he did.
It wasn’t just physical, though that part was unforgettable. It was something deeper.
Asher had this way of breaking down my defenses, slipping past the walls I’d spent decades fortifying.
He made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t experienced in years. Maybe ever.
Most days, I felt like a hollow shell, a corpse walking through the motions of Beric’s orders, doing his bidding without question.
It was easier that way. Easier to shut down, to disconnect from everything that reminded me of what I’d lost.
But Asher? He shattered that numbness with a single look, a single touch. He forced me to confront the parts of myself I thought I’d buried for good.
The memory of his laughter, soft and rare but genuine, warmed me even though I was a cold-blooded creature.
I hadn’t realized how much I craved that sound until I heard it for the first time.
For so long, my world had been steeped in shadows, secrets, violence and the unrelenting hunger that came with my existence.
Asher was like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, unexpected and blindingly bright. And yet, it terrified me.
What if I couldn’t protect him? What if I lost him, like I’d lost everything else that mattered?
I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms as if the physical pain could silence the spiraling thoughts.
No. I wouldn’t let that happen. Asher wasn’t just another fleeting connection, another moment in an endless string of days.
He was different. He was mine.
There. Movement.
I stilled, my eyes catching the subtle shift of a shadow across the underbrush.
A hare, its ears twitching as it foraged near a cluster of ferns. I tracked it with precision, muscles coiled and ready.
The moment came quickly. A leap and a twist, and I had it. The hunt was over before it began, the creature limp in my grasp.
A wave of satisfaction rolled through me. Not for the kill itself, but for what it meant.
Asher would eat tonight, something warm and filling. For once, I could give him something that didn’t come with a price.
By the time I returned to the cabin, twilight had given way to full darkness, and the air was sharp with the promise of a cold night.
The faint glow of the firelight through the window was a welcome sight.
Asher was awake when I stepped inside, his gaze immediately locking onto me.
He was sitting on the edge of the makeshift bed, his jacket draped over his shoulders, though he still looked pale.
“Took you long enough,” he said, but there was a glimmer of relief in his voice.
His eyes flicked to the hare in my hand, and his brows lifted.
“Showing off now?” Asher asked.
I smirked. “Jealous?”
“Hardly.” He snorted but couldn’t hide the faint curve of a smile.
I set the hare down near the fire, grabbing the knife from my pack.
“Don’t get too comfortable. You’re helping with this,” I told him.
Preparing the meal was a mess of laughter, complaints, and the occasional bickering over technique.
“You’re going to ruin it,” Asher said, his tone somewhere between exasperated and amused as he leaned heavily against the wall for support.
“Excuse me?” I turned to face him, knife in hand, raising an eyebrow. “I think I can manage.”
“Not if you’re planning to cook it like that.” He gestured to the hare, already skinned and skewered but unevenly butchered.
I grinned, enjoying the flush of frustration that crept up his neck.
“Fine. Show me how it’s done,” I told him.
He limped over, his movements careful but steady, and took the knife from my hand.
“First of all,” he said, his voice laced with mock patience, “you’re supposed to cut here.”
"Well, you’ll have to forgive me. It’s been ages since I last prepped and cooked," I said.
Asher just rolled his eyes.I watched him work, the way his hands moved with practiced ease, and for a moment, forgot about everything else.
When the meat was roasting over the fire, he finally sank back down onto the bed, his exhaustion catching up to him.
I sat beside him, watching the flames dance.
Once the meat was done, Asher took his first bite, letting out a contented sigh.
“You’re lucky I didn’t let you ruin it,” he teased, his voice lighter now.
I chuckled. “You’re welcome for the hunt.”
He tilted his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Gael. For hunting.”
The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, the words weaving their way into a part of me I thought I’d buried long ago.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I said with a shrug. “I just wanted to do something for you.”
We fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, talking about mundane things that felt almost foreign in our world of chaos.
“Favorite meal?” Asher asked, his voice light with curiosity.
“Human blood of course,” I replied with a smirk, earning an eye roll from him. "But if I had to pick, when I was human, probably steak. Medium rare."
“Figures,” he muttered.
“And you?”
He hesitated, his gaze distant for a moment. “My mom used to make this roast chicken. She had a secret seasoning mix, wouldn’t tell anyone what was in it. We’d fight over the last piece every time.”
The warmth in his voice made my chest tighten.
Asher let out a sharp breath and winced, the effort of sitting up clearly taking a toll.
“Let me help,” I said, moving closer.
“I’ve got it?—”
“You don’t.” My hand was already on his shoulder, guiding him back down gently.
He sighed but didn’t argue, his body relaxing under my touch. “You’re annoyingly stubborn, you know that?”
“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I met his gaze, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. The moment stretched between us, heavy with unspoken things.
When I leaned closer, he didn’t pull away. My hand brushed against his, a subtle, deliberate touch.
“Gael…”
I silenced him with a shake of my head. “Just let me.”
I pressed my lips to his neck, my fangs grazing his skin. He tensed but didn’t move, his pulse quickening beneath my touch.
“Trust me,” I murmured.
“I do,” he whispered.
His blood was warm, rich, and laced with something that made my head swim. Eventually, I pulled back before I took too much, my gaze locking with his.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
He reached for me, his hand curling around the back of my neck, pulling me closer. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with everything we couldn’t put into words.
It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t about hunger or need.
Asher’s lips moved against mine with a quiet intensity, each brush telling a story neither of us dared to speak aloud.
It was an apology, a promise, a confession.
A silent acknowledgment of everything we had been through and everything that still lay ahead.
This was enough, I thought to myself, as my hands found their way to his face, my fingers brushing along the sharp line of his jaw.
The world outside, the danger, the uncertainty, the weight of everything we couldn’t control, faded into the background.
Right here, in this stolen moment, it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered except the warmth of his lips against mine, the steady pressure grounding me in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, and I felt his hesitation. Like he was afraid this would all shatter if he moved too quickly.
But I leaned into him, meeting his unspoken fear with quiet reassurance.
It wasn’t just a kiss; it was trust, fragile and precious, passed between us like the rarest of gifts.
This moment here was perfect.
The cabin’s worn walls melted away, the forest outside becoming a silent witness to something that felt timeless.
The kiss deepened, not with urgency but with care, as if we were learning each other in a language we had only just discovered.
The scrape of his teeth against my lower lip sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.
When we finally pulled back, it wasn’t far. Our foreheads rested together. His eyes searched mine, vulnerability flickering there.
“I needed this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You have no idea.”
I smiled, a small, genuine thing that I wasn’t sure I remembered how to give anymore. “I think I do.”
I brushed my thumb against his cheek.
“You make me feel human again,” I admitted.
Asher reached up, threading his fingers through my hair.
“I’m glad,” he said.