Chapter 5 Not as it Seems
NOT AS IT SEEMS
RAYA
My eyes are about to pop out of my head and my tongue is in danger of falling out of my mouth at the impossible coincidence I’m faced with.
“Huh. Didn’t expect to see you here," Asher says, sauntering over to his desk and eyeing me up and down. “No paws this time?”
My anger at his accompanying smirk quickly morphs into further embarrassment when I realize the situation I’m in. I hadn’t expected to see that helpful stranger again, but here he is, sitting kitty-corner from me and exposing my biggest insecurity to my new coworkers.
Stars, this is not ideal.
I suck in a breath and try to keep the polite smile pasted on my face. Not that I was expecting to be best friends with my coworkers, but I had been hoping for a warmer welcome.
“You two know each other?” Alex asks, their brows furrowed as they sit at the desk next to mine.
“Not really, we ran into each other once and I helped her with a little… rodent problem," Asher replies as he opens up his laptop, blue eyes flicking to mine for a moment before returning to his computer screen, dismissing me.
“Riiiiight,” Alex draws out the word as their eyes bounce between Asher and me.
I clear my throat, trying to regain any small grasp on this situation that I can.
“Thank you, again,” I say, throwing a bright smile his way to prove everything’s fine and I’m all good now.
His only reply is a single grunt, not even looking in my direction as he does so, which does not help the apprehension coursing through my veins.
I turn my attention to Alex and Kendall, doing my best to give the appropriate responses as they both welcome me before excusing themselves for a meeting.
I’m left with the sticky silence between me and Asher in their wake.
I fidget with my laptop again, then jump in my seat when the shared desk phone rings. Asher throws a judgmental frown at me as he pushes the button to answer it.
“Asher, hey. I didn’t get a chance to show Raya around the office and I’m tied up the rest of the afternoon. Can you give her a quick tour for me?” Noemi says, apparently not realizing she’s on speaker-phone.
His eyes catch mine as he rumbles an affirmative and hangs up. Sparks shoot up and down my spine, though I’m not sure if they’re in warning or excited anticipation.
“Let’s do it then," he says, voice gruff with displeasure as he stands and brushes a hand down the front of his buttoned shirt, drawing my attention to the way it stretches across his broad chest.
I quickly avert my gaze and trot after him as he points out different work areas, spouting names of who sits where and what projects they’re working on. He’s curt, direct, and I have no chance of keeping any of it straight, but I pretend I’m following along all the same.
He shows me where the printer/copier and office supplies are, telling me I can take what I need for my desk.
I nod in confirmation and he moves on to the bright white kitchen with an adjacent break room that has windows overlooking the Willamette River.
It’s peaceful, and I pause to take in the view.
“That’s basically it. Management and HR are in the same hallway as Noemi’s office, and bathrooms are near reception. Anything else you need?” he asks, clearly ready to be done babysitting me.
“Nope, thanks. I’m all set.” I beam my brightest smile at him again, which he apparently hates, as he abruptly turns and stalks away.
I sigh and slump into one of the armchairs. I need a few minutes to wrap my mind around this situation. I cannot believe I’m working with Asher—the mystery man who helped me when I needed it, and now clearly can’t stand being in my presence.
I pull my phone out to text Zuri, knowing she’ll commiserate.
Me: You’ll never guess who sits next to me at work.
Zuri: OMG who?! Is it someone I know??
As I’m about to reply, two people walk into the kitchen area behind me, mid-gossip-sesh. I freeze, not wanting to be caught, but also kind of wanting to listen in.
“I heard it’s an alias. You know who he really is right?” one guy says. The other person must have shaken their head because they don’t answer, but he continues. “Yeah turns out his name isn’t really Asher Sullivan, it’s Asher Walton.”
The other guy scoffs. “No way. Who told you that?”
“It’s true. I looked up pictures. He’s right there standing with his parents. Same guy.”
“Asher. Like, sits at the desk by the door, dark hair, always frowning, thinks he’s better than everyone else?”
“That’s the one.”
Their voices fade and the blood drains from my face as my jaw unhinges. I blink at my reflection in the window before jerking my phone up, fingers flying.
Me: Oh no
Me: Please tell me Asher Walton isn’t who I think he is.
Me: Is that the evil vampire family you’ve talked about?
Me: The super old school one that attacks humans and drinks from the vein and doesn’t care one lick about consent? The ones causing all sorts of issues for the progressives trying to pass more ethical laws or whatever?
Me: PLEASE tell me I have the wrong name.
Zuri: YES you have the right name but wait
Me: Alert alert SOS send help what do I do
Zuri: Hold up. Is that who sits next to you?!
Me: Yep. He’s using a fake name though? He’s going by Asher Sullivan
Zuri: Are you sure? His family is rich as heck. I doubt it’s him.
Me: Pretty sure
Zuri: Okay. Look. If it is Asher Walton, he’s not going to do anything at work. Or at least, not around others. So just don’t be alone with him.
Zuri: We’ll talk it over tonight
Zuri: You’ll be fine.
My cheeks puff as I blow out a breath and lean my head back against the seat.
I’ve heard horror stories about this family; they’re in the news all the time, as they’re something between politicians and public figures.
Everyone knows they’re corrupt, but money can make all sorts of problems disappear.
Having to tip-toe around my new coworker is the last thing I need right now.
Can’t a girl just get a nice, normal, chill job?
I am determined to be fine. I’ll kill him with kindness and won’t be alone with him. My mystery rescuer turned workplace scorner has now turned out to also be a notoriously terrible vampire with untold wealth and power behind his name. No biggie, it could be worse.
Asher
I toss my keys into the dish by the door and toe off my shoes while Milton meows at me from his perch on the console table.
I’m never sure if that meow is a welcome home or go away.
Side-eying Milton, I loosen my collar and unbutton my shirt cuffs as I stride into the kitchen. Today was not what I expected.
I didn’t think they’d be able to fill the position so quickly. Obviously, I’m relieved I won’t have to pick up the slack as much now that the new girl has started, but did it have to be her?
I yank open the fridge, glass bottles clanking at the abrupt movement, and grab one at random. I went to a new blood bank a couple weeks ago and they had some sort of sustainable initiative going on, so apparently I’m drinking blood from glass bottles instead of plastic bags now.
What a step up in the world.
I snag a glass, letting the cold liquid slosh into it before holding it up to my nose and taking a deep inhale, the scent already helping me relax.
Coppery, metallic, and sharp, exactly as I like it.
But then I pause, taking another slow whiff.
There’s a sweet undertone I haven’t sensed in blood before.
I take a tentative sip, and as soon as it hits my tongue, my brows shoot up to my hairline.
I pull back and hold the glass up again, swirling it around and carefully inspecting the liquid for any hint that the blood’s been mixed with something else.
Not finding anything suspicious, I examine the bottle, but there’s nothing different about it either.
At the second careful sip, I have to hold in a moan.
This blood is decadent. It’s absolutely indecent how good it tastes.
Unlike anything I’ve tasted before, both salty and sweet, it’s a test of my self-control not to gulp it all down at once.
Blood hasn’t been this enticing since… Well, I prefer not to let my mind wander to those dark years.
My family has taken enough from me already.
My childhood, my innocence, any hope I had of believing the best in people.
They stomped that out of me before it had a chance to grow, doing their best to replace it with bloodthirsty ruthlessness.
I’m glad they didn’t succeed in making me the monster of their dreams, the heir apparent to their bloody empire, even if they haven’t yet given up on those endeavors.
I’ll do what I’ve done since I turned eighteen.
Nothing.
I’ll ignore their texts. Avoid their calls. Turn a blind eye to their very existence.
I glance at Milton where he sits in the doorway, but he only stares back, silently judging.
I swirl my glass, taking both it and the bottle to the living room with me where I flip on the TV to a random documentary.
Unfortunately, it’s impossible to focus.
Between this blood that’s making me feel slightly wild, and thoughts of the new girl at work, I haven’t absorbed anything at all about… Ancient Egyptian tombs?
With a heavy sigh, I pause it and turn on some music instead, resigned to let my thoughts take whatever course they need to so they’ll let me relax. Immediately, they turn to her.
Raya.
Today was such a mess. I accomplished nothing thanks to her distracting presence, and I couldn’t even look at her for too long or I felt like I’d combust. I thought she was cute with her wild hair and the little rabbit nose before, but once I saw her full human form, I was hit with how stunning she is.
Honey-blonde hair with loose tendrils framing her face that almost shimmered as she walked.
Rich brown eyes that seemed to see right through me.
All of five feet and a couple inches, she nearly knocked me on my ass the instant I saw her.
My first words to her that morning weren’t exactly polite, but to be fair she did catch me off guard by showing up unannounced to my place of work. Then it felt like I was sent spinning off into a different realm when she turned her hesitant smile on me.
Huffing, I roll my eyes and take another sip, this time letting out the appreciative groan that claws up my throat.
The worst part was, she seemed genuinely happy to be there, and that warmth radiated out from her.
Her smile as she settled in and organized her desk felt like a physical blow, like it would have bowled me over if I wasn’t already sitting when she aimed it in my direction.
Simply looking at her sends my thoughts into a tailspin, and when her heartbeat kicked up as we started the office tour, I nearly staggered at the urge to take her into my arms. Whether to comfort her or drink from her or something else entirely, I’m not sure.
Not to mention her scent. Sun-ripened strawberries and fresh coconut, a combination so delicious I can nearly taste it.
I practically ran away from her at one point because I couldn’t control my reaction; my mouth watered and my fangs started to lengthen without my consent.
I haven’t lost control like that since I was an adolescent being starved and then tortured with fresh blood by my parents.
I have no idea how I’m supposed to get any work done with her around. My reactions to her are unreasonable and unwelcome.
What’s up with the random shifting though?
She’s piqued my curiosity. I caught another partial shift today when Raya was setting up her new laptop that I’m pretty sure she doesn’t realize I noticed.
Her nails had turned to claws, without the full wolf paws this time.
I didn’t say anything, though. I’m not a complete asshole, despite how I reacted to her today, but I did question it.
Admittedly, I don’t know much about shifters, but I do know they don’t normally shift into multiple different animals—or animal parts—and they also don’t normally have such poor control over it by adulthood.
Left to wonder, I turn back to my meal and finish off the last few drops, practically licking the inside of the glass clean. I hold up the bottle again and take a picture of the ID number on the label, hoping I can get more, debating how crazy it would be to call and ask.
“What do you think?” I ask Milton.
He turns his slitted green eyes on me, then saunters over, leaps into my lap, and settles into a cat loaf facing me.
Taking his attention as approval, I dial the number on the bottle and rattle off the ID. Unfortunately, the clinic informs me that was all they had from this particular donor. No, they don’t know if they will get more, and they’re very sorry but they can’t release any information about donors.
Sighing, I hang up, reasoning that it likely tasted better due to how hungry I was, plus there was no plastic aftertaste that comes from the bags I’m used to.
I push it from my mind for now, hoping a run through Forest Park will help set me straight. I normally run at a normal, human pace, but every so often it feels good to let go, to unleash my inner vampire and run at my true, lightning-quick speed.
I pretend it’s simply because I need the exercise, and not that it has anything to do with outrunning thoughts of a dazzlingly gorgeous shifter.