Chapter Seven
Asher
The coffee finishes boiling just as Sage steps into the kitchen.
"Good morning," I offer. "I made an assumption about coffee, but if you'd prefer something else—"
"Coffee would be amazing. It smells divine," she says, a small smile on her lips. "And good morning."
I pour a cup and hand it to her carefully. "How are your senses now, as a nymph? Compared to when you were human?"
"Sharper," she says without hesitation. "Things feel more vivid. Especially in nature. It's like everything alive is somehow connected to me, or I'm part of it. Hard to tell where it ends."
"Must be pleasant," I reply, pouring my own cup, mostly out of habit. I don't need it, but find the ritual anchoring.
She glances at me over her mug. "And your senses?"
"Some dulled. Others painfully acute," I admit. I don't elaborate. I don't mention that I can track her heartbeat, smell the blood beneath her skin, detect the remnants of the shampoo from the guest room, and faintly, beneath it, the ghost of my brother's scent.
She takes a sip. "But you still smell the coffee?"
"I do. I can distinguish beans, roasting styles, even the water quality, if I focus. But it's all information. Not sensation."
She nods, absorbing the distinction.
"We've got breakfast options. Toast, cereal, oats. Or I can bring in something from the garden, though I doubt I can find any flowers this early in March," I say with a faint smile.
Her smile turns dry. "Toast is fine."
"All right."
She leans against the counter. "And thanks for the clothes. I wasn't expecting anything other than what I came wearing."
She's changed into the clothes I left outside her door—a soft gray sweater, long enough to skim the tops of her thighs, and a pair of slim black leggings tucked into fleece-lined boots. There's a coat I still have to give her once we leave the house.
"They're from a friend," I explain. "One of the supernaturals living here. I thought you'd be more comfortable. Yours weren't suited to Maine in March."
Her hair—soft brown threaded with golden undertones—is woven into a tidy side-plait, an attempt at order that doesn't quite hold. There's still something untamed about her. The braid might suggest control, but it can't touch the wildness in her posture, in the effortless grace with which she moves.
She doesn't belong in a kitchen like this. Not in borrowed clothes, sipping coffee over quiet conversation. She looks like she should be barefoot in a clearing at dawn, part of the wind and earth and everything that resists taming.
It's striking.
She's calmer this morning, no sharp edges, but I wouldn't call her at ease. There's still a readiness in her, a tension humming beneath the surface. Like she's waiting for the next chase to begin.
Then Kayden bursts into the kitchen like a devil on holiday—shirt open, hair tousled, wearing a smirk that probably hasn't left his face since last night.
And just like that, the temperature in the room shifts.
"Good morning, brother," I offer dryly.
Kayden grunts something noncommittal and heads straight for the fridge. He grabs one of the blood cartons, pops it open, and drinks straight from it, loud gulps echoing in the quiet kitchen. When he finishes, he shudders like someone downing bad liquor.
"I don't know how you live on this crap," he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Direct contact's always better. More fresh." Then he shoots Sage a bloody grin, his fangs visible, and winks.
She quickly looks away, focusing hard on her coffee like it holds all the answers to the universe.
Something happened between them.
I noticed it as soon as I got back—her clothes from the dryer abandoned on the couch, the door to my study closed when I know I left it open. I'll have to ask Kayden about it, but not right now.
When I left last night, I wasn't sure if I should trust them alone.
However, I needed to handle things. The bodies couldn't stay where they were—two men lying dead by the lake is a problem waiting to happen.
And I don't want Darius's eyes turning toward Briar Hollow.
If half of what Sage said is true, he's not just wealthy but powerful and dangerous, and not above sending supernatural hit squads into the woods to retrieve runaway assets.
That kind of attention could blow the quiet sanctuary we've built here to pieces.
Disposing of the bodies wasn't difficult, but it was strange.
When I returned to the clearing, the leshy corpses were surrounded by animals: foxes, crows, even a stag in the distance.
Vines and roots had already started to pull them under, as if the forest itself had claimed them.
Like they'd been there for weeks, not hours.
It looked like a twisted fairy tale, since the guys looked more Serbian mafia than Disney princess.
I dragged both bodies to the car and drove them far out, beyond the edge of our borders.
Found a bridge, added some rocks, tossed them into the river.
The current and cold depths took care of the rest. One loose end remains—their car.
We'll have to find it. If they logged their location before arriving, that could be a problem.
On the way back, I stopped at Astrid's. I knew the valkyrie would be up and training outside at four in the morning, hardcore as she is. She didn't ask questions when I told her I needed clothes for someone staying over, just tossed me a duffel bag.
Kayden strolls around the table to the far side where Sage is sitting, yawning and stretching. She deliberately doesn't look at him, but the current between them crackles just as loud, if not louder, than it did before.
I watch him closely as I place a plate with toast in front of Sage. At some point, I'm going to have to ask what the hell he did.
"What's up with the jungle explosion over there?" Kayden says, nodding toward the windowsill. "Not that I'm a green thumb or anything, but I don't remember your plants trying to colonize the kitchen."
I noticed it too—the sudden wildness in the leaves, the thick curling vines that weren't there yesterday. They've practically doubled in size overnight.
"Um, that's me," Sage says, her voice small as she stares into her coffee. "Sometimes I can't… control the effects."
Her cheeks flush a shade of rose that feels far too vivid for just plant growth. There's something more going on, but I don't press.
Kayden arches an eyebrow. "Should we be concerned about other little tricks you've got up your sleeve? Are we going to wake up as moss-covered tree stumps one morning?"
"I make no promises," she mutters, not missing a beat.
She shifts in the tall chair, adjusting her position, and winces. Kayden catches it instantly. His grin turns slow and wicked as he throws her another wink, the glint in his eyes pure mischief. Her glare in return could flay him alive.
"Anyway," she says tightly, trying to recover her footing, "you don't have to worry about me or my powers, since I'm leaving. You promised a lift," she adds, turning to me. Her voice is calm, but there's a flicker of doubt in her eyes, like she's still not convinced we'll actually let her go.
I nod, clear and certain. "Whenever you're ready."
She finishes her breakfast in a hurry, barely tasting it, and soon we're heading out. The morning is shrouded in mist, the aftermath of the storm still clinging to the air.
"I packed two canisters of gasoline—one to refill now, one for the road," I say as we climb into the car.
"Boy Scout Asher. Always prepared," Kayden mutters with a smirk.
"Thank you," Sage says quietly from the back seat, her voice soft. She doesn't meet my eyes. Guilt flickers across her face like a shadow.
I half expect Kayden to slide in beside her, keep the tension simmering. Instead, he takes the passenger seat without a word.
We find her car, a battered Toyota Corolla, easily, just where she described it. Beside it sits the dark BMW the leshy had used.
As I pop the trunk and pull out the gas canister, Kayden strolls over to the vehicles. He lets out a low whistle, then scoffs. "Well, we can do the refill, sweetheart, but I don't think our roadside assistance package covers this."
"What is it?" Sage calls, suddenly tense.
Kayden jerks his thumb toward the Corolla. "Swiss cheese. Your ride's riddled with bullets."
I walk over and confirm it with a look. Multiple shots. Tight groupings. They made sure it was completely out of commission.
Sage walks to her car, stares for a second, then leans against it and slides down.
For the first time since we met her, she's not posturing or fencing with her words. She looks done, a woman who hit her limit.
I crouch beside her, keeping my tone even. "Sage. The offer still stands. Stay with us. We can help you."
She looks up slowly, eyes shadowed and unreadable. There's something fighting behind them. I can't tell if she's going to bolt again or finally let someone help her.
Sage
Asher looks sincere.
He has no clue what I did. Or almost did. He's offering me help like it's simple. Like I deserve it.
A part of me, the stupid, tired, dangerously hopeful part, wants to say yes. Wants to stop running, to collapse into something safe and rest.
It would be so easy…
My gaze flicks to Kayden. He doesn't say a word, but there's something in his eyes—a flicker of concern, maybe pity.
Or maybe I'm reading too much into it. There's a distance now that wasn't there last night.
He's still cocky, still carrying that razor-sharp edge of mockery and menace, but something colder has settled beneath it.
I should be relieved. I'm not. It aches more than I want to admit.
I turn back to Asher. Those honest amber eyes are steady and patient. He's the kind of man who doesn't break his word. The kind who means it when he offers help.
It would be so easy...
But nothing's ever easy. Not without strings. Not without someone expecting something in return sooner or later. That's what experience has taught me. What survival has carved into my bones.
I shake my head and stand. "Thanks. I'll be fine. Just need a lift to town."
I move to the car, pop the trunk, and grab my backpack. At least they didn't shoot this part of the vehicle. Inside: granola bars, spare underwear, a motel keycard I forgot to return, and a crumpled plastic bag with a small stash of weed.
Hilarious. I'm not laughing.
Oh, and the damn platinum ring with a giant diamond tucked into the lining. Still there. Haunting me. But that's a memory for another day.
"She won't accept help from the likes of us, brother," Kayden drawls. His voice is mocking, but underneath it there's bitterness. "We're just empty, dead husks. No better than zombies. Just less into brains. Right, sunshine?"
I don't rise to the bait.
I hold the backpack a little tighter and look at Asher instead.
"If that's what you want," he says, his voice calm and warm. "Just… if you're willing to hear it from someone who's been running a long time—eventually, you run out of road."
Kayden snorts at that. Asher turns to him. "I need to take care of these cars. Get them off the road, just in case someone comes sniffing. Can I trust you to get her safely to town?" he asks, looking squarely at Kayden.
"Oh, you know me, brother. I'm a model citizen. I won't even throw in unsolicited wisdom," Kayden says.
Asher looks back at me. "Is that all right?"
I nod, quick and clipped. "Thanks. For everything. I owe you."
"You don't," he says. "Take care, Sage."
Then he turns and walks toward the BMW.
I swallow the knot of shame and regret tightening in my chest. Then Kayden swings around and, with theatrical flair, gestures toward Asher's vehicle.
"Shall we, miss nymph?" he says with a smirk.
I sigh and follow.
Kayden drives in uncharacteristic silence.
I let the quiet stretch, using it to gather my thoughts, to keep myself from unraveling completely. I was so close to accepting Asher's offer. A warm bed. Safety. No questions for a little while.
But I can't. For many reasons.
They're vampires. That alone should be enough. But there's more—things they don't know. Things I haven't told them. Like what my blood really does to their kind. How long would their noble restraint last if they knew? Especially Kayden.
I shift slightly in my seat and feel it again—the lingering burn on my skin from his punishment. A phantom echo of heat and sensation too vivid to dismiss.
And the damn flowerpots. I can still see them in my mind, thriving like jungle growth overnight.
Yes, growth is part of my power. And yes, it's true that I can't always control it. But what I didn't tell them—what I couldn't tell them—is that it happens when I'm… aroused. When my body responds sexually.
Which means Kayden's touch, Kayden's voice—Kayden's everything—set it off.
I never want him to find that out.
But it's not just about my inconvenient biology or his dangerous charm.
If I stay, Darius will come looking sooner or later.
And when he does, he won't just come for me—he'll bring a war to this place.
To these people. All those supernaturals Asher is sheltering would be dragged into it. I can't have that on my conscience.
"We're here," Kayden says eventually, his voice cutting through the fog of thought.
We've reached the center of Briar Hollow. Quaint little town. Peaceful.
Temporary.
"Any particular destination? Bus stop? Motel?"
"Just here is fine," I say. "I'll figure it out."
He pulls up to the curb and throws the car in park. I reach for the door.
"Sage. Wait."
I pause, turning halfway back to him. His expression is different now—no grin, no bite.
"What?"
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a folded bundle of cash, holding it out to me. "This is mine. Not Asher's. But it'll help all the same."
A fire ignites instantly in my chest with a tangled mess of emotions: pride, shame, and fury.
I glare at him. "What is this? Payment for last night?"
He shrugs, infuriatingly casual. "If that's what you want it to be, sunshine."
I swat his hand away. "Keep it. I'm fine."
"Suit yourself." He starts the engine. "See you around."
"I hope not," I mutter under my breath, stepping out and slamming the door.
He drives off, and I'm left standing in the middle of a town I don't know with nothing but a backpack and a stomach full of regret.
Another new place. Another beginning with no map.
It would've been easy to take the money. Just like it would've been easy to accept Asher's help. But I couldn't do it. My own damn pride gets in the way every time.
Darlene once told me I make life harder than it needs to be. She was probably right.
I can't stay. I can't take the help. Not when I ran out on my family, even before the whole nymph thing. Not when I ran from Darius.
Not now when I'm running again.