Chapter 2 Asher
CORD McCALLISTER.
I can’t believe he’s standing here in front of me. How long has it been? Too long, whatever the time frame. I smile at him but he doesn’t return the gesture. Typical.
“What are you doing here?” he growls.
“I live here.”
“Of course you do.”
“What about you?”
He shrugs, that same bored expression I’ve come to know as his default. “Work.”
I remember who lives around here then. “You’re still working for Dante?”
He rolls his eyes and turns to open the door to his car. “Figures. Some things never change.”
I start to grab for him and pull back, remembering how much he hates being touched. At least, by anyone else. Not sure if that applies to me now. “Wait. Can’t we just talk?”
He faces me and blows out a sigh. “We said everything there is to say a long time ago. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get home.”
“You look good.”
“Stop it.”
“I’m serious. A little hungry, perhaps.”
He slams the door and wheels on me. “What is with everyone saying I look hungry. I know how to feed, for fuck’s sake.”
“Not saying you don’t. It’s just…well, you know bagged doesn’t answer all our needs.”
“What do you want from me, Asher? I thought we agreed not to see each other again.”
“You agreed. I never said any such thing.” I step closer. “In fact, if you recall, I begged you to stay, and I don’t beg anyone.”
“Well, don’t worry. I won’t tell your secret.”
This isn’t going the way I hoped. It has been ten years, and while I thought I was over him, seeing him again is bringing back a rush of feelings I’m not ready to let go of.
Despite the things said in anger at our last encounter, I still care about him.
Yes, he’s prickly and quick-tempered, but that’s just Cord.
And I admit I have faults of my own, which he never tired of pointing out, but I have given his criticism a lot of thought over the years and worked on addressing some changes.
Now if I could just convince him to give me a chance.
“Can we just go upstairs and talk? I’ve missed you. You were my best friend.”
Long before the Clan changed our lives forever, we were inseparable. Grew up together in the same group home in the same small town. Thick as thieves, as they say. It was a relationship that developed into more as we grew older, but we always had our friendship.
Cord was the first to be approached by the Clan.
They wanted him, attracted by his toughness and fighting skills.
He’d jumped at any chance to get away from our living situation, but he refused their offer unless I could come along.
I was a shy, skinny kid, more interested in school than physical endeavors.
At first I tried to talk Cord out of joining, but once Cord made up his mind, there was no going back, and he saw this as our ticket to the big city, which had always been our dream.
Never mind the fact that we would cease to be human. That was a major sticking point for me.
I was hung up on what I would become.
Vampire.
A mythological creature of the night.
But it wasn’t like that at all. True, there was an initiation process, and a transition that involved the exchanging of blood with an elder, but there was no sleeping in coffins, running from crosses, or bursting into flames in the sunlight.
Other than enhanced senses and strength, and a need to consume blood every day, not much had really changed.
Well, except for the fact that we aged much slower than humans.
The truth is, I’m fifty-six years old and still look like I did the day I transitioned at twenty-one.
And the aging process seems to slow down further the older we get.
I’ve met five hundred year old Clansmen who don’t look a day over thirty.
Our lives took a different turn once we transitioned, though.
Cord trained to be a fighter, but my mentor had a different ambition for me.
He took advantage of my analytical mind to push me into business, where I excelled.
Eventually I branched out on my own and built an empire.
Even with the Clan taking their cut of my profits, I was one of their greatest success stories.
Throughout our training and later development, Cord and I remained close.
Our relationship developed from friends to lovers, and I believed we would be together forever.
Unfortunately, Cord was not only restless, but resentful of my obviously greater success.
For my part, I guess I did try to push him to be more assertive in his approach to his career.
I just saw more potential in him than he seemed to see in himself.
The fact that he continued to work for Dante when I knew he was so much better than that was a constant source of strife between us.
In fact, I’d say it was Dante who drove a wedge between us, and for that I can’t forgive the man.
“What possible good can come from talking?” Cord asks me, though I notice he’s turned away from his car. It’s new to him, but I can tell right away it’s his. He was always more attached to things from the past than I was.
“How about we just catch up? I want to know what you’ve been up to lately.”
“Why? So you can criticize me some more?”
“Cord, please. Come upstairs with me. You can leave anytime you want.”
I have to admit I’m a little surprised when he agrees, though he grumbles under his breath on the way into the building.
“Evening, Mr. Winston,” the concierge, Ralph, greets as I sweep past him. I nod in his direction and lead Cord to the smaller elevator reserved just for the penthouse. Once we’re inside, I enter the code, eliciting a snort of derision from Cord.
“Figures.”
I smile at his reflection in the mirrored walls and run a hand back through my short blond hair.
“When did you get the car?” I ask to break the silence.
He shrugs. “Couple of years ago.”
“It suits you, though I liked your old one, too.”
“It got wrecked.”
The door slides open, ending that line of questioning.
I step out and precede him down the short hallway to the living area, where a wall of windows opens out onto the city.
I never tire of my first glimpse of this view when I enter the apartment.
I head for the sleek kitchen that takes up the back wall.
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
I reach for the Belvedere and two glasses, remembering it was his favorite, and look at him.
He nods and walks over to the windows, his hands shoved in his pockets in what I recognize is a sign of nervousness.
Cord can face down any physical threat without batting an eye, but social situations always cause him uncharacteristic anxiety, though why he would feel nervous around me is anyone’s guess. Maybe it’s the situation.
I hand him the glass and give him space to do the talking.
“I like this better than your last place,” he comments after taking a sip.
“People were starting to get too familiar,” I reply, remembering the tenants I’d meet in the lobby who always wanted to know my business.
The Clan teaches us not to overly interact in our living environments.
People notice when you don’t change over the years.
“What about you? Where are you living now?”
“I’ve got a place down in Hell’s Kitchen. It’s got a parking garage.”
I smirk. “Very important for someone who loves cars.”
He turns away from the windows and makes his way over to one of the low-slung gray leather couches, draping his tall frame over one end while looking around the space.
I follow his eyes, seeing the room as he does.
All sleek angles and modern furnishings.
A lot of blacks and grays and stainless steel.
I suppose it appears cold and impersonal to most people, but I’m not one to fuss over my environment.
It’s well-designed and serves my purpose; that’s all that matters to me.
Oddly enough, it was always Cord who opted for comfort over function in his tastes.
I remember his old apartment was full of eclectic, mismatched pieces and odd color choices.
He was ruled by whatever struck his fancy at the moment and whether or not he could comfortably slouch on it.
I guess when you’re a muscular six foot four and work as hard as he does, you need something sturdy to stand up to your abuse.
“I’ve only got the one now,” he says, then adds at my look of confusion, “cars, that is.”
“Ah.” I join him on the facing couch, setting my glass on the coffee table and unbuttoning my jacket so I can lean back and drape my arm over the back.
“Look, don’t let me keep you if you’ve got somewhere to be,” he says as he drains the glass and sets it on the coffee table.
“Actually, I was just getting home. Business meeting.”
“Yeah, I guess you have a lot of those.”
“They’re tedious but necessary.” I lean forward, catching his eye. Those cobalt blue eyes I love getting lost in. “I’d much rather spend my evening here with you.”
We stare at each other without speaking for several minutes, and I realize how much I’ve missed this.
We always had the ability to spend time together without the need to fill the space with aimless chatter.
Cord is a man of few words anyway, so when he speaks, it’s usually something worth listening to.
And I never tire of that deep gravelly voice, especially when it rumbles against my ear in the throes of passion.
Just thinking about it causes my dick to stir.
His lip curls up in a smirk as if he knows what I’m thinking. “You never were good at hiding it.”
“I never wanted to with you.”
His eyes narrow, as though he’s weighing something carefully. “This is a bad idea.”
It’s my turn to smile. “Wouldn’t be the first one we’ve had.”
We stare at each other for another beat before he moves, rising up and crossing to the couch where I sit.
He looks down at me and something passes behind his eyes; regret?
Sorrow? Whatever it is deepens the blue to almost black.
I’m so entranced I don’t notice he leans down, our mouths so close I can taste his breath.
“I want you,” I whisper.
“Fuck. Why did you have to be on that street?”
I close my eyes, drinking in his scent. Leather and sandalwood.
A rush of memory flows over me–the two of us tangled together in the sheets, his long silky hair draped across my chest, his breath slow and even in sleep.
I miss it, and I want nothing more than to fall into his arms and let the world disappear.
I wait, then I hear the soft hush of the elevator door. When I open my eyes, I’m alone.
“Damn.”