Chapter 9 #3
He’s telling the truth. Even if I wasn’t contaminated with whatever it is I am with him, the Codex doesn’t lie.
My training doesn’t lie.
He isn’t lying.
Not a single piece of art hangs on the walls. No photos, no trophies, no signed basketball insignia. There’s absolutely no hint at who it is that lives here. It’s oddly strange, since Asher has too much personality to not spread out.
He clucks his tongue, dragging me out of my observations. “Finally, you’re taking in your surroundings. A little slow with that one, aren’t you?” He pauses, studying me. “You’re wondering how I know who you are, when it’s the biggest secret. The only people who know are the likewise ones, true?”
His words die in the back of my mind.
I need something. Anything at all that can give me even a hint as to who I’m dealing with.
Books line a single shelf behind his chair and above an open fireplace, but I can’t make out the titles from here.
Glass windows on either side of the wall display the backyard playground found in every man’s wet dream.
There’s nothing.
Not a single damn thing that gives anything away in here. Not even a computer, or TV, or any form of electronics. Asher is a complete contradiction to everything I thought I knew.
I sigh, bending down to massage the throbbing in my temples.
Who the fuck is he?
“Anything catch your attention, Ivanya?” he asks, using my full name.
It doesn’t add up. None of this adds up.
“So, you were saying you want to leave?” He adds, and I appreciate the switch of subject since I’m pretty sure this one is about to make my head explode. “Why? Tell me what La Journée du Nous is and who the fuck is the ‘us’?”
Keep it simple. Asher prefers things that way.
“We live by a particular set of codes, and one of ours is family. To you, it may sound like just another day, but it’s our day, and we never miss it. It is absolute, Asher. I can’t break tradition because you’ve decided you can’t just kill me and get it over with.”
I push up from the chair, staring directly at the wall of his chest. “Kill me now or we go.”
Silence.
Corded vines spiral around his chest, my eyes tracing them all the way up the side of his neck. Did he add more?
His forefinger and thumb skim over my chin, angling my face up to his.
How. How can the man who ripped my life apart still look like the only safe place left to stand?
“Nah,” he murmurs softly. “I’m not fucking done with you.”
All the air in my lungs evaporates.
“And you and I both know it would be as simple as me locking you in a room to live out the rest of your days if I really wanted.”
Electricity sizzles over my lip when his thumb brushes across it.
Seconds.
Minutes.
A damn lifetime.
Neither of us break eye contact, the battle he’s fighting displayed over his face with every twitch of his jaw. Every squint. Every sneer.
He growls, so low I feel it more than I hear it. “If I agree to this, you get two days tops.”
I nod, warmth trickling back through my body with a fragile sense of hope.
His fingers weave through the back of my hair and he uses his grip to pull me in closer.
“I get the family shit, Venom, but we have a score to settle.” He squeezes tighter. “Two days and then we come back.”
I know I should let this go and be happy with the answer he’s given, but Camille pops up in my head as a reminder that yes, we do have a score to settle, but we also have another thing in common.
Pride.
“As what?” I whisper, not even sure what it is that I’m asking.
He releases his hold and air floods my lungs. Every step he takes proves why I’m screwed, why at the end, none of this will matter.
“As your brother’s plaything?” I scoff. “I think the fuck not.”
Movements stop as his eyes snap to mine. I don’t care if I’ve pissed him off. Hell, I don’t care if he puts a bullet in me right now. I care whether or not I’m going to have to explain to him at a later date that I killed his ex because I can’t stand seeing him with her.
I lift a single brow. “You want me to fuck Atlas so you don’t have to feel bad about Camille, is that it? Or what? Is this part of the twin sharing thing that I’ve been missing out on?”
His eye twitches.
I continue. “Or maybe I should take him up on that offer…” I gaze off into a distant play-by-play of a made-up fantasy. “I wonder if he’s as good with his tongue as you were?”
My eyes burn when I don’t blink, afraid I’ll miss even a drop of Asher’s humanity.
He leans back in his chair instead, unbothered. “Are you done? Because I’ve got shit to do.”
I’ve cared too much these past couple of days. Years of training myself into a machine, and I still don’t know who I really am underneath. Am I really this destructive when it comes to people I love? I haven’t with Jord, or Punk.
Asher is my damn fucking kryptonite.
With as much zero fucks given attitude as I can muster, I walk back through the way I came, landing into a hard chest waiting outside the door.
Atlas looks between me and the asshole behind me. “What happened?”
My chest splits open, allowing a heavy drop of sadness in. “Nothing.”
“Ivy!” Asher calls, and I stop. “Tell Sinead they need to pack.”