Chapter Fifteen
Kayden
Once she's gone, I glance at my brother. We hold the silence between us for a beat too long.
Yeah, we both felt it. That thing on the porch. Not planned, but real.
"She's staying longer," I say, breaking the air with something obvious, just to start.
"She is," Asher replies, his tone neutral. "But she hasn't decided yet. And if she does stay, are you ready for what that means?"
No need to spell it out. We both know what he's really asking.
"Would I want her all to myself?" I shrug. "Absolutely. No question. But she liked the whole… setup. The tension. The way we pull at her from opposite sides. So nah, I don't mind sharing. Not with you."
What I don't say—what I won't say—is that I've never seen Asher soften for anyone before. At least, not in a long time. He guards, he gives, he shoulders the world, but takes nothing for himself. Good ol' righteous Colonel. Noble to a fault.
The dull bastard needs to get laid.
No, he needs more than that. Something real. Someone real. Maybe Sage is that. For him. For me. Hell, maybe for both of us.
But I'd be damned before I say that out loud. He'd check my temperature. Ask if a skinwalker's wearing my face.
"She's complicated," Asher mutters.
"So are we," I counter. "We've done this before. A woman between us."
Before everything fell apart. Before we chose different paths.
"She's not like before. She's not a fling or an indulgence," he says quietly.
"No," I agree. "She's not."
We both glance toward the stairs. Toward the woman we're both teetering around.
"She has to want it too," Asher adds, his voice low.
"She does," I say. "But she's holding something back."
"She's been through hell," he says. "And I don't think we've heard even half the story."
"Which means we don't push. But if she stays… we're on the same page, yeah?" I shoot him a look. "No jealousy. No dramatic brooding in the shadows. No tantrums."
"If anyone's going to throw a tantrum, it'd be you," Asher replies flatly, but there's a flicker of a smile. "But yes. If she chooses both of us, I can live with that. If she doesn't…" He pauses. "We let her go, Kayden."
I nod slowly, jaw tight. "Yeah. Sure."
But I don't mean it. Because I already know that I don't want to let her go. Ever.
Should I stay away from the beautiful nymph brushing her teeth in the other room, getting ready for bed with her skin soft and clean, her scent floating like bait in the air?
Yeah. Probably.
My brother would. He'd be noble about it. Keep his distance. Fold his hands in prayer or discipline or whatever keeps him standing so damn straight.
Will I?
Hell no.
Because yeah, I want to see her. Tease her. Hear her breath hitch when I get too close. I crave biting her again, to feel her skin shiver against my mouth. But it's more than that. It's not just the heat.
It's her voice in my head, still echoing: dead husk.
Yeah, sweetheart. You came for that husk like your body was wired for it. Moaned on his fingers. Shook when he touched you.
I came out of that damn shipping container thinking I'd shrug it all off. Treat it like a joke, like always. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About her. About that night, like a broken record spinning heat and doubt on repeat.
Did she pity me? Was I just a lapse in her judgment she'd rather forget?
Or was there more? Something sharp and real she doesn't want to name?
I want her to break just enough to spill the truth. I want to hear her say it. That it wasn't just a moment. That she didn't hate it. That she didn't hate me.
That when she saved me, it wasn't just duty or guilt, but instinct. Maybe hope.
That she saw something worth keeping alive. Something redeemable.
I grab a potted fern from the windowsill—some stupid excuse to knock on her door. She doesn't answer. No problem.
I push the door open. Room's empty. There's humming from the bathroom—low, quiet, like she forgot the world existed for a moment. I lean against the wall in shadow and wait.
She emerges in a white robe, hair twisted up, a few strands falling loose around her face. She's reaching for something, focused, doesn't see me right away.
Then she does.
"Jesus—Kayden! What the hell? Fuck, you scared me!"
I lift a hand slowly, offering the fern like some guilty altar boy. "Peace offering."
She eyes the plant. Then me. Suspicious.
"I figured you like being outside. Growing things. This room's kind of sterile, so…" I shrug like it means nothing.
"Thanks," she says, still eyeing me like I'm a wild animal that might bite if provoked. She takes the pot and sets it on the table. "It could've waited till tomorrow."
"Could've," I agree. "But I'm not known for patience."
I don't move. Neither does she.
"You heading to the shower?" I ask, tone easy.
She shoots me a look. "What gave it away, Sherlock?"
I laugh, quick and low, and move. In a blink, I'm in front of her, spinning her, pinning her gently against the wall. Her robe shifts, her breath catches. My hands don't tighten. Not yet.
"My, my," I murmur near her ear, "sharp tongue on the little nymph tonight."
She doesn't speak.
I lower my mouth just enough to let her feel the ghost of my breath.
"Did you forget, sweetheart?" I whisper. "You're toying with a big bad vampire."
Her breath hitches. Her lips part like she's about to speak, but I beat her to it.
"All I came to do," I say, dragging the words slow, "was suggest a practical water conservation strategy. You're all about the environment, right?"
I lean in, smirking. "You need a shower. I need a shower. We could share. Start where we left off on the porch. There's plenty more to do when the clothes are off."
She doesn't move. Her heart's hammering against her ribs, I can feel it through the air, almost taste it.
It's not just fear. No, fear doesn't smell like that.
She's turned on. Trying not to be. Failing.
Gods, maybe the fear makes it worse. Maybe she likes the edge. Maybe some part of her wants the teeth as much as the tongue.
A nymph who craves danger of a feral vampire.
A prey who wants to be hunted.
Fuck me.
I press a little closer. She shivers.
"So what do you say?" I murmur near her ear. "For the planet. Trees and polar bears and whatever."
Her voice comes out uneven. "Why would you even want this? I tried to kill you. Twice."
I scoff, low. "In some cultures, that's foreplay."
She lets out a breath that's part laugh, part something else. Then she looks away, like she's arguing with something inside her. Fighting herself.
I drop one hand, let it slide along her thigh, slow and steady, tracing up toward the hem of that robe. I can feel her pulse through my fingertips.
My other hand tangles in her hair, tilting her head toward me, claiming control. Her breath stutters. Lips part.
My fangs ache. My cock throbs.
I'm barely holding on.
"I'll kiss you everywhere," I whisper, lips ghosting over hers. "Then I'll bite you everywhere. Mark you. And then… I'll fuck you into next week."
My hand tightens in her hair.
One more second and I'll lose the last thread of restraint I've got left.
But then she pushes. "No, Kayden."
I don't move. My jaw locks. "Why not?"
It's a simple question, but the truth's never her answer.
"Because I'm a disgusting vampire?" I ask, bitter heat coiled in my throat.
She hesitates. "It's not that. It's… complicated. I…"
Of course it is. Always is.
I hold her for one breath longer, just to feel it—to see if I'll cross that line.
I could.
I really could.
But I don't.
I release her, step back. Cold air floods between us. It's painful.
"I don't know why you keep lying to yourself," I say quietly. My voice isn't mocking now, just frayed at the edges.
I nod toward the plant—the fern I brought her.
"Even that thing doesn't lie."
She follows my glance.
It's grown. Sprouted a blossom that wasn't there earlier.
"Can't be that repulsive to you, can I?"
"You're not—"
"Save it," I cut her off, turning. I don't need another apology soaked in guilt or whatever she thinks this is. "Enjoy your shower, sunshine."
And I walk out. Frustrated. Hard as hell. Fangs sharp. Hands clenched.
Something's gonna bleed tonight. Because if I don't hunt, I'm gonna lose my fucking mind.