Chapter 13
WHEN YOU HAVE TO TEACH A VAMPIRE HOW TO HUG
RAYA
I wake on day three to Asher groaning as he stretches to silence his alarm.
I yawn and roll to my back as he stands, then stretch my hands over my head with a contented moan of my own, reveling in the feeling of finally getting a good night’s rest. I freeze when I notice him staring at me, then yank my arms down and snatch the blankets to my chest.
“Sorry,” he mutters, swiping a hand down his face before shuffling into the bathroom. His voice is low and scratchy from sleep, and my stomach tightens at the sound.
He’s dangerous, you absolute heathen. Get your head in the game.
We switch places, and the TV is on when I exit the bathroom, Asher’s face locked in a rigid mask.
It’s showing a couple arm in arm posing for pictures while a third man stands off to the side.
The sound is muted, but his family name rolls across the bottom of the screen and he immediately flicks it off and turns to the kitchenette when he notices my attention.
“You can leave it on, if you want," I say.
He grunts in reply, and I eye him warily. My curiosity is slowly getting the better of me.
“So…” I trail off, not sure how to ask in a polite way what the deal is with his family. “Are you close with them? Your family?”
His look of disgust could freeze the stars right out of the sky.
“No.”
I take that as the end of the conversation, and I sneak around him into the kitchen.
I had been surprised to see bags of blood in the mini-fridge the first night here. He’s stabbing a straw into one now, Capri-Sun style, as I tuck a mug under the coffee machine.
“Ugh,” Asher cringes as he looks at the bag of blood like it personally offended him.
“Expired?” I ask, doing my best to be polite, even though I have about a million accusations swirling through my head.
“No, I just forgot what it tastes like from a bag.”
I scoff. “Right, you’re used to the fresh stuff.”
So much for polite.
“What?” His brows scrunch in an expression that is way too innocent for a big, bad vampire. Part of me wants to reach over and smooth my finger over the groove between them. The other part wants to punch him in the throat.
“I guess only straight from the vein is good enough for you?” My tone is scathing.
“I don’t… No.” He stammers, and I roll my eyes. “No, this place I go to in Portland started using glass bottles a few weeks ago. I got used to not having that stale, plastic taste anymore, but I couldn’t find anywhere like that here. So…” he holds up the plastic bag, “back to plastic it is.”
“Huh," I say. It’s my turn to scrunch up my face, and I try to make all the different things I know about him make sense. It’s like piecing together a puzzle when half of them are missing the picture.
“Ready to practice? We’ve got some time before we need to head out.” He crinkles up the empty bag and drops it in the trash can under the sink, then takes a swig of mouthwash before returning to my side.
“Sure, yeah.” I attempt to clear my head as we settle on the floor pillows, mirroring each other.
We fall into an easy rhythm, with me following the breathing pace he sets, and it takes enough focus to use the proper muscles that my mind doesn’t wander.
Well, not at first anyway.
After a couple minutes, I start to notice him. His intensity, and the way he focuses on this task, this moment, as though it is the only thing in the world right now. The dark lashes that sweep against his cheekbones every time he lowers his gaze. The muscles cording his forearms.
“You’re getting it," he says, interrupting my thoughts and I blink back into reality. “Let’s add in some grounding.”
He instructs me to stand and copy his movements, as we did before.
He plants his feet shoulder width apart, and I copy him.
He stomps each foot, and I startle, my wide eyes darting from his feet up to his face, and that sideways smile invites mine out to join it.
Without a word, he deliberately stomps one foot, followed by the other, then looks pointedly at my feet.
I stomp and my stomach tenses in an effort not to laugh.
This is so weird.
He raises his arms up above his head, spreading his hands wide, and tips his head back with his eyes closed.
I don’t mind this form of teaching; staring at him is turning out not to be a hardship at all.
In fact, I wonder if maybe we should add a lunch session to our routine, too.
Before I can follow his movements, my skin tingles and fluffy, perked ears twitch into being on my head.
I sigh and drop my arms; the sound bringing Asher’s attention back to me, and his arms fall too as he opens his eyes.
“Ah, well, now we can see if this helps," he says. “Again, from the beginning.”
He puts his hand on his stomach, jutting his chin at me to do the same, then closes his eyes and breathes. I follow for three breaths before he adjusts his position, planting his feet and then taking a deep inhale as he reaches for the sky.
I mimic his movements, breathing in and noticing how the air fills my lungs as I reach as high as I can.
I close my eyes and tilt my head back as I exhale, pulling my hands into my chest. I take another breath, not caring if I’m going off script; I’m doing what feels right, what my instincts are telling me to do.
When I open my eyes a couple breaths later, there’s a new expression on his face.
“You did it," he says, his intense eyes sparkling with triumph.
I suck in a quick breath. My hands dart to my ears, and a smile blooms across my face. I feel lit up from the inside. Invincible.
“I did it!” I squeal. My first time having any sort of control over the shift. I’m about to burst, so I throw my arms out and leap into him.
Physical touch is natural for shifters; apparently, it’s foreign to evil vampires. Asher stumbles back a step before his entire body goes rigid. My arms are wrapped around his waist, my face smashed into his chest, when I feel his hands tentatively curl around each of my upper arms.
“Haven’t you ever hugged someone before?” I say. “You’re supposed to put your arms around me.”
Asher clears his throat, then slowly circles his arms around my back.
“Now squeeze a little," I prompt, trying not to laugh at the weirdness of having to give instructions on how to hug.
When I pull my face back to look up at him though, my smile drops and my stomach falls to my feet. His face is stone, completely blank and unreadable in a way I’ve never seen before.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I stumble a little as I pull back, and his hand darts out to catch my arm, steadying me. “I didn’t mean, if you don’t like to be touched, I should have asked—”
“It’s fine," he says.
My hands twist in the hem of my shirt as my eyes dart around the room, looking at anything but him.
“Right, well. Um, thank you. For the tips, they worked. Obviously. So uh, I’ll just finish getting ready then.”
I ignore the tingles as I grab my clothes and sprint into the bathroom.
After work, I buy some tacos and horchata on my walk back to the hotel. Asher isn’t around, so I settle into the sole chair at the desk-turned-table. I send him a quick “where are you” text before unwrapping a potato taco and taking a deliciously massive bite.
I groan at the flavors exploding on my tongue.
“Should I give you a moment alone with your taco?”
I catapult out of the seat as I splutter bits of potato and cheese onto the desk.
“Stars, what is wrong with you?” I shriek. “Why do you always have to sneak up on me like that?”
His chuckle is infuriating, yet it somehow melts the irritation straight out of me until I feel like a soft puddle of goo, waiting to be squished.
It doesn’t take him long.
“Seriously, you should really get your ears checked. I’ve never met a shifter so oblivious to the world around them," he says, and there goes the sweet, melty feeling. Anger surges back in until fire is burning behind my eyes. There’s plenty wrong with me, I already know I’m the most messed up shifter in the universe—he doesn’t have to point it out.
“You’re a jerk.” I turn my back on him and grab a handful of napkins from the to-go bag. My movements are jerky as I wipe down the table and pick up pieces of half-chewed tortilla from the floor.
“Hey,” he says, a trashcan moving into view as he places it closer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a jerk.”
I huff. I consistently remind myself he’s not a good guy, and despite that, I still nearly forgot. He’s been getting under my skin lately, and I don’t want him there.
Liar.
“Honestly.” He reaches a hand toward me, but stops before making contact. “I’m not sure what about that upset you, but I didn’t mean anything by it. I was joking.”
“Well, it wasn’t funny," I say.
“I can see that now. I won’t say it again.”
I narrow my eyes as I turn to look at him, searching for any hint of a lie, but he seems earnest.
“Okay.” I slump back into the chair. “You want a taco? I’ve got potato and shrimp.”
“I’m good, but we should practice again when you’re done," he says, then settles onto the floor in his blanket nest, scrolling through his phone while I finish my meal.
I can’t stop my eyes from flickering over him.
He’s got this intense aura that pulls my attention, and the more I try to ignore it, the harder it gets to do so.
Finally, I ball up my wrappers and toss them into the trash, then stand and take the two steps necessary to get to our make-shift practice area still set up from this morning.
“Start with breathing,” he says, “then we can try some muscle relaxation.”
I follow his lead again, first breathing together, then tensing and relaxing various muscles throughout my body. I feel more relaxed than I have in ages afterwards, but it’s too early to reasonably go to bed yet.
I meander that direction anyway and pile up a bunch of pillows against the headboard before flopping down.
“You wanna watch something?” I ask, then mentally kick myself for opening the door to him again.
His head pops up from the foot of the bed, a million questions in his eyes.
I roll mine and pat the bed next to me.
“Come on. You can at least sit up here, there’s plenty of space. Your butt has to be numb from the floor by now.”
One side of Asher’s mouth curves up as he stands and rounds the opposite side of the bed. I hate how his predatory movements create a different, but equally unwelcome, tingle low in my belly.
“I didn’t realize you cared about my ass.”
“What! I don’t! I was just saying—” My cheeks flame and my emotions can’t decide whether to settle on embarrassed or angry or… something else I’ve been avoiding when it comes to Asher.
He chuckles and talks over me before I can dig myself an even bigger hole. “I’m kidding. What do you want to watch?”
Flicking on the TV, he scrolls through the guide, stopping when he gets to a FRIENDS rerun and quirking an eyebrow at me.
“Uh. YES.” I snatch the remote and hit enter. My love of this show borders on obsession.
I startle awake when Asher shifts on the bed next to me. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but FRIENDS is my comfort show, so I should have realized it was likely to happen. Especially after that muscle relaxation exercise we did earlier.
“Sorry sunshine,” Asher whispers. “I was just going to get ready for bed.”
“You’re good," I whisper back. “I don’t want to sleep in these clothes anyway.”
We end up brushing our teeth side by side, and I try to ignore the buzzing sensation of bees on my skin every time I feel his eyes on me. I close up my toiletry bag, avoiding eye contact as I squeeze past him out of the bathroom. Somehow, I’m wide awake and full of tension again.
Sighing, I scoot under the covers after dropping some CBD oil under my tongue and forcing my eyes closed. Unfortunately, they don’t stay that way for long, that restless buzzing is incessant and my body doesn’t listen to my mind when I tell my eyeballs not to look.
As soon as Asher steps back into the room, my eyes squint open to take in the low slung shorts and broad, shirtless chest I’ve been trying not to stare at every night this week. It’s a lost cause, but I don’t have long to berate myself before he sinks to the floor, out of sight.
In an effort to distract myself, I send Zuri a text.
Me: You up?
Zuri: It’s a bit far for a bootie call
Me: Hilarious
Zuri: What’s up?
Me: Nothing, just can’t sleep
Zuri: You’re on your own then, I’m busy
Thinking about sex is exactly what I was trying to avoid, and here Zuri goes throwing it straight back into my brain. She’s obviously not a good distraction. I drop my phone next to me and stare at the dark ceiling.
Being kept up by thoughts of an annoying man when all you want to do is snuggle into a cozy, deep sleep is the absolute worst.