6. Asher
six
Asher
I f I remember correctly, the town was set to be an hour's walk from here; however, unlucky for me, it was already getting dark.
I stand there for a moment, taking in my surroundings.
"If I have it, I might as well use it." I huffed to myself, frustrated
I can feel my bones popping out of place and rearranging, and my hair breaks through the makeshift ribbon, falling like silk around me. I hunch over, and suddenly, the cold is not piercing my skin anymore. I stretch, shake the snow off my fur, and begin trotting toward the town, leaving a trail of large canine prints behind me.
At this pace, I should be there in 30 minutes tops. That should allow me to beat the storm and the dark.
As powerful as the curse was, I was constrained regarding abilities other than those directly related. The main form, one that I tried my best to avoid, was the most painful and affected me for days after shifting. A more uncomplicated form that allowed me to travel was a black dire wolf. Though it didn't allow me to blend in, it worked for what it was, and I never found myself complaining.
The scent of sweet pastries drifted through the air, and I could feel myself getting closer to the town. The smell of fresh apple pie wafted past me, and my stomach growled painfully for the first time in what seemed like days.
One thing I've learned about humans is that when power comes into play, they are all overtaken by the sin of greed. They would see this curse as a privilege or a gift, and at first, I did as well; however, after watching all of my loved ones die over the years, I realized this was nothing but a curse. My stomach never seemed satisfied, and I always growled no matter how much I ate. These are the forms that I had no choice but to take when handling sinners. Felt like fire as my body twisted and contorted to adjust to the new power that radiated out of my body. After hundreds of years, I'm still not used to the feeling of my bones snapping and regrowing into places they weren't supposed to be.
Even though to an average human, I seemed like a God, all it felt for me was that I had chains holding me down to the very earth that I had walked for hundreds of years.
I shake my head, trying to clear my mind, and I can see the edge of the tree line approaching.
The smell of baked goods and people wafted through the air at a nearly potent level. In only moments, I was standing upright and reformed. My hair fell around me like black silk waves, and I crouched down by the trees, observing the town.
Quaint shops sat boarded up, and one family stood crying and holding themselves in front of one of the disheveled homes.
Part of me pitied these tiny humans, and my eyebrows cinched with the now-foreign feeling.
Suddenly, the smell of warm apple pie drifts past me again, and a glint of hazel-brown hair glides like silk past my vision.
I readjust my gaze, and standing there is a woman crouched down, speaking to a small girl.
All at once, my blood shifts directions, and my body heats up. It's as if everything around me stills. The dress that she was wearing fit her curves perfectly, and an apron tied tightly around her was covered in flour. She lifted the girl and placed her on her hip, wiping snow out of her hair.
Who is this goddess?
The thought crosses my mind, and it shocks me. I look away, only to immediately look back and watch her closely. She returns to the small shop, sets the girl down, and then continues fumbling with what I assume is baking goods.
The small shop was quaint and heavily decorated with Christmas lights. The front window was filled with shelves of steaming pies and baked goods. Many people went in and out with bright smiles, entering empty-handed and leaving with multiple bags.
Cute
I chuckled to myself as I watched her. It felt like a heavy magnet sat in my chest and pulled me toward the shop. No matter how hard I fought it, I couldn't turn my eyes away from her.
Suddenly, she looked right in my direction, and I froze.
"Asher," she says
My heart quickens. Even though she's a mile away, her voice sounds as if it's right in my ear. I can feel her breath sliding over my earlobe and shivers erupting through my body.
"Asher," her voice comes like silk.
I feel her finger tracing over my cheekbone and lean into her touch.
"Asher," Her voice comes more stern.
Suddenly, I'm jolted up and grab her hand as it sits only inches from my face.
"I have to go downstairs to open up the shop soon. Would you like to join me for breakfast?"
My breathing slows as I realize I'm sitting against the edge of a bed. In front of me, wearing only a thin silk sleeping set, is the woman who drew me insanely mad only days ago. Her big eyes stare at me, oblivious to my racing heart and thoughts. I can only look at her, taking all the features of her face.
Just her voice is making me weak. What is this?
"I don't know if you like shepherd pie, but if you'd like to join me-" she stutters, looking away, and her face turns red.
Cute.
I released tension on her wrist, and she grabbed it back, grabbing it with her other hand and rubbing it gently.
"I'm sorry if I startled you."
My breathing slows, and I reach my hand up, pushing her long hair behind her ears. "I would love to join you for breakfast, princess."
She offers a warm smile when suddenly a shiver runs down her body. I glance over and see that the window not far from her bed is open. She smiles as if embarrassed. "I leave it open for the stray that comes in and out." She breaks eye contact and looks away, blushing. "I'm sorry if it was cold last night."
I chuckle and walk over, shutting the window.
She grabs her blanket and wraps it around her, and I find myself glancing at her collarbone.
"Where is your dresser?" I ask, and this catches her off guard. She points silently across the room to a hand-carved wooden dresser. Carved into the top is the symbol of a goat, surrounded by flowers and swirling spirals. I stop in my tracks, staring at it.
"My grandmother gave it to me," she says, still wrapped in her blanket, her bare feet dangling off the edge of the bed.
I regain my composure and open the top drawer, grabbing a pair of white socks with frilly edges before walking back over.
She reaches out to them, and I pull away. I crouch down, grab one of her ankles, and begin sliding the socks on her feet.
"If you're gonna sleep with the window open, at least dress warm for the weather. I don't know if anyone told you, but it's the middle of the winter."
"Yes, sir," she laughs.
Her words send a soft jolt of electricity straight to my cock. I slid her other sock on before, lifting her up, still wrapped in the blanket, and set her down near the bathroom. "Hurry up and get ready. I'm hungry." I say to her.
She nods to me before dropping the blankets to the floor, revealing her curves, and heads into the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind her.
Every touch between us sends electricity through my body.
Maya set a small plate down in front of me. It's edged with painted mushrooms with swirling leaves and flowers around it. In the middle sits a healthy helping of shepherd's pie.
"Do you want the big fork or the little fork?" she asked me, holding up different forks. She looked slightly worried.
"Which one do you want is a better question?" I ask her, leaning my head on my hand.
She hands me the big fork, and I chuckle.
The shop was closed because it was still early morning, and barely anyone was awake. Downstairs, the only heating source was a wooden stovetop in the store's back corner.
I take a bite of shepherd's pie and hum, shutting my eyes tight and enjoying the taste.
"Is it good?" She asked me, still looking worried.
"This is the greatest thing I've tasted in a long time," I say, taking another bite.
She smiles warmly and begins to eat, staring outside as if lost in thought. Soft snow drifts outside, covering everything in a haze. There are no footprints on the ground in the town yet, and even the birds seem to be still snuggled up warm and quiet.
While cooking, Maya lit candles while I put wood in the oven. Neither of us exchanged many words.
My eyes begin to roam her. Her curled hair hangs loosely behind her. She wears a long, pale white sleeve with cuffs and a neck lined with small black hearts. She's wearing a black short skirt with stockings that go up her thighs and black buckled shoes. I can feel myself wanting to reach out to her. I take another bite of food to stop myself.
Her hair is pulled up on either side of her head and held in place with small black bows that fall like ribbons. In her ears are gold earrings of small goats.
She suddenly glanced at me and saw me looking at her. She moves her hair behind her ears, showing off her earrings and smiling.
"Do you like them? They were a gift from my grandmother many years ago before my ears were even pierced." She releases her hair and takes another bite of food.
I stare for a moment longer before taking another bite of food.
"They're supposed to represent Krampus," she says, still not making eye contact.
"Strange thing to celebrate around Christmas," I comment. My interest has now peaked.
"I don't think so," she says, smiling warmly to herself.
Her words caught me off guard. "Oh?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"My grandmother always had a flair for the strange when she was alive. She taught me that Santa wasn't the only Christmas spirit."
I stopped chewing my food to listen, now completely entranced by the conversation. "I've always heard bad things about him," I say.
"I have to," she doesn't hesitate, and her words sting me. I break eye contact and take another bite of food.
"I don't believe he's bad, though. I think he's just doing what he's supposed to. It's like trying to demonize a wolf for hunting a bunny. It's just what they have to do." She finally glances at me and smiles, tilting her head slightly to the side.
My heart suddenly lurches towards her, and the feeling of needing to touch and hold her takes over my body. I look up at her and find her looking at me. I smile warmly, "That's a very sweet thing to say."
Just then, a pounding comes at the door, causing her to jump. My gaze immediately snaps to the source of the noise. Standing there, out of breath, teary-eyed, is a heavyset man.
"Maya, please open up. It's urgent."
She races around the corner, and I grab her arm to stop her. I shake my head at her and then get up myself and open the door without letting the man inside.
"He can come in," she says. Her voice is dripping with worry.
I move aside and open the door for the man. He stumbles in, tracking snow and mud into the shop and over her Christmas rug. My jaw tightens with annoyance. The vision of Maya sweeping that same rug earlier that morning flashes across my mind.
"Please, you can't stay here tonight," the man is stumbling over his words.
"I don't understand. What happened? You know I can't leave." Maya holds his trembling hands, and the sight sends me an ache through my chest.
"You don't understand, dear. The shop next door was broken into. They didn't make it." The man looks to the floor, his eyes brimming with tears.
"That's ridiculous, Sandy. What do you mean they didn't make it?" Maya's voice wobbles a little as if she already knows his answer.
The man put his hands on her shoulders, and I clenched my fist. "They're dead."
Maya's face loses color, and she stands there. "I can't leave the shop, you know that."
"Dammit, woman, I'm trying to help you. It's not safe for you to stay by yourself." The man glances at me, and I hold eye contact, not blinking.
Maya brings a hand to her mouth, and her eyes brim with tears.
"Maya, please listen to me," he said, gently shaking her. I reached out and pushed him back.
Maya suddenly pushes her way past both of us and rushes outside, tears streaming down her face. She stops and turns around to look at the shop next door. I followed after her. Right next door was the shop that stood there only eight hours before in perfect condition. A giant ' for sale ' sign hung across the front of the now-broken shop.
"It's already been sold," the man says after us.
"How is that possible?" I ask.
"You don't understand, boy. Someone's been breaking into shops, and they're sold within hours."
I walk over to the front of the shop and run my fingers over the sign. A familiar sensation pulses through my body, and a painful shock surrounds me. I yank my hand back and glance back to Maya, who's standing there, tears still streaming down her face. The tip of her nose and cheeks are red from the cold, and I immediately walk back over and pick her up.
"Thank you for the warning," I say, still looking at the sign.
"Please, you both have to get out of here. This is becoming a regular thing every night. It's bound to happen to her." The man's voice is barely above a whisper.
A vision of Maya spread out on the floor, injured, suddenly crossed my mind, and I pulled her closer to my body. She's shivering and still quietly crying.