Chapter 28
ASHER
I slip on a clean T-shirt—one of Caleb’s—and step out from the Charger.
The neon sign above the entrance of the bar flickers like a dying pulse. This place always pulls the same crowd, a beacon for lost souls and degenerates. For people with nothing left to lose. The kind of place you can disappear inside of. The kind of place no-one asks questions when someone doesn’t make it home.
A mixture of stale beer and sweat seeps through the cracks in the brickwork like mildew.
The perfect hunting ground.
Exactly what I need.
A distraction.
A release.
There’s nothing quite like the high that comes from choosing a victim, not out of necessity, but, purely for the thrill of it.
I roll my shoulders, a satisfying crack of bone and tension loosening the sharpness stabbing at my chest. If Maeve could see me now.
Music thumps dully from inside, vibrating under my ribcage like a second heartbeat. Just like the pathetic excuse for one still thudding in my chest, thanks to her.
Who does she think she is?
Her emotional attachment to Caleb seems to have lost its way and is now chasing after me.
Love.
She said she was falling for me. For Caleb.
As if there’s a difference.
Foolish woman.
Love is a weakness. A liability. And she’s bleeding it all over the place like she wants me to choke on it.
I shove open the door, the faded timber groaning on its hinges. The scent of cigarette smoke and desperation claws its way over my skin. The light is low, the air thick with bodies and poor decisions. Faces blur in the haze, the edges softening, but my focus is razor sharp.
Sharper than it’s ever been around Maeve.
I slide onto a barstool, and nod at the bartender. “Whiskey. Neat.”
A glass appears in front of me, and I throw back its contents in one swallow, letting the burn tear a path down my throat as I scan the room.
The night is young, after all.
And I’m a starved man. I want a throat to wrap my hands around, one I don’t want to sink my teeth into. Maeve is making me soft, weak. Just like Caleb. So, I’ll show her exactly what she already knows.
I won’t change. Not for her. Not for anyone.
I continue to eye the unsuspecting crowd. Christ, this place really needs a makeover. My options are as uninspiring as the setting.
A couple arguing in a corner booth. Too much baggage.
A pack of giggling college girls near the jukebox. Too loud. Too obvious.
A washed-up drunk slumped over the bar. Fucking useless.
And then . . . a spark.
A woman at the far end, nursing a glass of red wine like it’s her last lifeline. Late thirties, perhaps. A faint line where a wedding ring used to be. Dirty-blonde hair. Pale skin. Red lipstick, now a little smudged.
She’ll do.
Her gaze darts around the room, restless, scanning faces but holding no-one’s eye. Her shoulders sit too high, like she’s attempting to make herself small.
Invisible.
But I’ve seen her now. The cracks. The raw edges. The way her hands tremble when she brings her wine glass to her lips.
I’m more than happy to rectify that for her. I could make her disappear. Take her last breath. Erase the ache she thinks no-one sees.
Maeve would say it’s because I care, because I feel.
But she’d be wrong.
It’s because I crave control.
Without it, I’d be just another pathetic creature, bleeding my insides all over the floor, wearing my weakness like a costume. There’s no power in showing your hand.
I rise and stalk towards her, my steps measured, deliberate as I make my way across the room, slicing through the haze.
I stop beside her. “This seat taken?”
The woman glances up, her eyebrows rising. “Oh . . .” She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. “No. Go ahead.”
How predictable. She only had to look at my face to decide I’m trustworthy. It’s almost too easy. And, quite frankly, boring.
“Rough night?” I gesture toward her drink, and slide onto the stool beside her.
She huffs out a laugh, more bitter than amused. “Rough life,” she mutters, her shoulders slumping forward.
My smile stretches, slow and practiced. “Lucky for you, I’ve got all night.”
She stares at her drink like it might tell her future. “Well,” she says, lifting a shoulder, “in that case, where do I begin?” Her eyes find mine.
They’re not Maeve’s. Still, I’ll entertain her.
“How about you start at the beginning.” I signal to the bartender for another round of drinks.
We talk. Or rather, she talks while I listen, spinning a web of false empathy. She opens up gradually, her walls coming down with each drink she sucks down.
Her name is Lisa.
New in town.
No friends.
No family.
Vulnerable.
Each detail she spews out is a thread, pulling tighter around her. Soon it’ll choke her.
I nod in all the right places, laugh at her self-deprecating jokes, and offer just enough of myself to keep her leaning in. Hours pass by unnoticed, and the bar empties. The bartender announces last call.
My pulse quickens. It’s like the first time all over again.
Lisa stands, swaying slightly, her inhibitions drowned somewhere at the bottom of her glass.
Fucking pathetic.
I steady her with a hand on her elbow. “Let me take you home.”
The touch of her skin against mine does nothing. Where’s the rush I usually feel? The drive to end her life? Well . . . this is as lacklustre as stringing Terry up to his ceiling fan.
I should have gutted him. Not only did he put his hands on my woman, he was also keeping tabs on her, siphoning information back to his father at Pinnacle. It was the least I could do.
But, when did pretending become such a chore?
Being with Maeve, I haven’t had to pretend I’m anything but who I am. And she accepts me.
Loves me.
Seems she’s remembering.
Icy fingers crawl up my back, and I snap my gaze to the woman beside me.
She smiles, crooked, her light blue eyes unfocused on mine, her cheeks flushing. “That’s sweet of you. I live a few blocks from here.”
Not sweet. Calculated.
She’s as delusional as Maeve. But I won’t let that deter me. No need to waste the entire night.
With a hand at the small of her back, I lead her outside. The streets are deserted at this hour, a light fog rolling in from the forest overlooking the town. Lisa chatters away beside me, oblivious to her impending demise.
I scan the shadows. There must be a suitable alley or deserted doorway close by. Somewhere to shut her up in.
This is where I thrive. The anticipation. The control.
We turn down a narrow side alley, and I take my time inspecting our surroundings. Dark. Secluded. No-one to hear her scream.
Every muscle in my body tenses, like a coiled snake ready to strike.
Lisa pauses, placing a hand on my arm. “Is this a shortcut?” Her voice is tinged with unease as she glances around, her grip tightening.
Perhaps she’s not as stupid as she looks.
A smirk spreads over my lips. “Something like that.”
Lisa swallows hard, tension still wafting around her like desperation. “Oh, okay,” she says, eyes darting over my face. “If, you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Would I lead you astray?”
I’m sure of one thing. Lisa has only minutes to say her goodbyes.
My breathing speeds up. Just a little further?—
“Asher!” A voice pierces the night, sharp and unmistakable.
Maeve.
I turn, my grip on Lisa’s arm tightening. The sight of her punches the air from my lungs. My little shadow, following me like she always has. Barefoot, wild-eyed, her hair a mess of loose waves around her face. She looks like she walked straight out of one of my nightmares. And the worst part is, I want to drag her back into one.
But why is she here?
Has she come to talk me down from the ledge?
How na?ve she is. Falling is my favourite part.
Lisa sways, her hand finding my bicep. “Who’s that?” she says, the words forming one long slur while she stares at Maeve.
“Just a friend,” I say smoothly. “How about I get you a cab home instead?”
Now that my little shadow is here, my plan is unravelling with each second. Maeve remains still, her silent accusation fouling the air, sour and cloying, like something rotten beneath my flesh.
Lisa’s shoulders fold in, her mouth twisting into a childish pout. My stomach recoils. Disgust or disappointment.
Likely the former.
It seems I’ve grown desperate.
She should be thankful. Had it not been for Maeve, she’d likely be struggling to breathe her last breath right about now. I should force her to her knees and make her beg for Maeve’s forgiveness. Ungrateful weasel.
Speaking of who, she’s now stalking closer, her bare feet padding on the damp cobblestones. “Step away from her, Asher,” she says through gritted teeth.
With a slight tilt of my head, I narrow my eyes. I could overpower them both easily, but that would draw attention.
“Maeve, darling,” I say, injecting warmth into my tone. “What a pleasant surprise.”
I casually drape an arm around Lisa’s shoulders, my muscles tensing. There was never any intention of getting my dick wet tonight—that belongs to Maeve. My plan to kill Lisa was purely out of spite. Maeve crossed a line, and Lisa was supposed to be the poor innocent victim.
Now, she’s going to wake up with a pounding headache, while wondering what happened to that gorgeous man who promised to walk her home. She might show up here again, night after night, hoping to rekindle what we started. Only, I’ll be just a fragment of her hazy memory, forced into the shadows of her subconscious with the rest of her terrible decisions.
Lisa leans into me, a movement meant to convey ownership. Maeve narrows her eyes, hands fisted at her sides.
Well now, is that jealousy I’m sensing?
“Let her go, Asher,” she says, her eyes darting to Lisa for a split second. “I know what you’re planning.”
The urge to laugh in her face bubbles up inside me. She thinks she knows me, but she knows nothing, only the parts I’ve let her see.
My control is wearing thin and if Maeve doesn’t take great care in her next steps, she may very well regret following me here.
My patience should not be confused with tolerance. There’s a line about to be drawn.
Lisa crosses her arms over her chest, and glances up at me, batting her eyelashes.
Oh dear. Does she think that’s going to work on me?
“I thought we were going to have some fun,” she says, sighing.
Well, I am now that my woman has had a change of heart.
“Not tonight,” I say, waving down a passing cab, its headlights cutting through the mist.
Maeve eyes me as I bundle Lisa into the backseat. “Get home safe.” I tap the roof of the car, while Lisa mumbles something unintelligible.
The cab pulls away seconds later, leaving me alone with Maeve. Slowly, I turn to face her, my smile falling. In one fluid motion, I grab her arm and yank her into the alley.
She lets out a small squeal. “Asher, what the hell are you doing?” She shoves at my chest, weak but defiant.
It only makes me hungrier.
“Do you have a death wish?” I say through clenched teeth, shoving her against the damp brick wall.
The alley is a canvas of shadows, broken only by the faint light seeping in from the bar across the street. The damp pavement glistens beneath our feet, the smell of wet concrete and cigarette smoke stifling the air, pressing in like a vice.
“You’re slipping,” Maeve says, her voice low as she glances around. “We had a fight, so now you’re lashing out?”
I crowd her against the brick, the cold stone biting through her thin shirt, her breath sharp against my throat. Her pupils dilate, and she lets out a small whimper.
I breathe her in. “This isn’t about our fight,” I say, running my nose over her jawline. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“And you shouldn’t be hunting strangers in alleys,” she snaps, tilting her chin up.
“Jealous?” I snatch up a strand of her dark hair and rub the silky strands between my fingers.
She flinches. Good. She needs to understand her place.
“I’m not here to play games, Asher.” Her hands ball into fists. “I came because?—”
“Because you couldn’t stay away.” I finish the sentence for her, my voice low and mocking. “Admit it, Maeve. You want this.”
I press against her, sliding my hand up the outside of her thigh. Goosebumps break out over her warm skin, and her breath hitches.
“Okay, fine.” Her voice shakes, betraying her brave facade. “I was worried about you. About what you might do.” The last sentence spews out, like she needs to cover up the fact her bleeding heart is staining everything around us.
“Oh Maeve,” I murmur, nuzzling her neck. “You should be more worried about yourself. What makes you think I won’t hurt you?”
She moans, soft and wrecked. My cock twitches in response.
This woman is doing things to me, things I never thought possible. I can’t escape her—never been able to. Much the same way I can’t escape Caleb. She’s part of me.
With a knee, I spread her legs. “You shouldn’t have come here.” I brush my lips over her ear and slide a hand up the curve of her thigh, slipping beneath the thin cotton barrier like a blade sliding between ribs. “But since you did . . .” I sink a finger inside her.
“Asher, stop. This isn’t—” She gasps, tilting her head, exposing her slender neck. “Oh god.”
Her actions betray her words.
God won’t save her. When will she learn that I’m the one in control?
“Isn’t what?” I grip her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze as I continue my assault on her body. “Isn’t what you came looking for? I didn’t miss the look on your face when you saw me with Lisa. The green-eyed monster looks good on you.” I pull my finger from her slick pussy and shove it into my mouth, sucking the taste of her from the digit.
A small whimper escapes her, even though she frowns, and narrows her eyes. “You’re such an arse. I hate you.”
“Good.” With practiced efficiency, I shove my pants down, and free myself.
Maeve’s lips part, her chest heaving as she stares down at the appendage straining purely for her. I wrap my hand around it, the ache thrumming through me like a live wire. My pulse pounds in my ears, a steady, maddening drumbeat.
She presses her hands against my chest, trembling. If she wanted me gone, she’d shove harder. Scream. But she doesn’t. She stays. She’s as addicted to me as I am to her, a craving we’ll never satisfy.
“Someone might see,” she whispers, her gaze darting to the mouth of the alley.
Headlights sweep past like apparitions. Her hands flatten against my chest, trembling. Not with fear, but with something jagged and wild.
She doesn’t care all that much about being seen, but she can keep pretending.
I wedge my knee further between Maeve’s trembling thighs, forcing her to open wider for me. “Let them,” I growl out, lifting her leg over my hip.
In seconds, I line myself up with her slick opening, the fresh night air scraping over my skin, the damp alley trapping us in like a coffin. In one swift motion, I bury myself inside her.
Maeve cries out as I fill her completely, her muscles clenching around me. A groan leaves my chest, my skin burning up. I give her no time to adjust. I don’t want her comfortable. I want her broken.
Gentle isn’t something I’m capable of, but she knows that. It’s why she’s here.
Her eyes flutter shut, her mouth falling open on a choked sob. She’s fighting herself, not me. Fighting the part that wants to hate me but craves only what I can give her. It’s written all over her face, that fragile, fractured thing inside her cracking wider every time I touch her.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” I murmur, digging my fingers into her hips, hard enough to leave a mark. A reminder. One she’ll feel long after I’m gone. “To be fucked like I own you.”
She shakes her head, tears slipping down her flushed cheeks. But her hips rock forward, her body betraying her even as her lips whisper lies.
“Liar.” I wrap one hand around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her gasp. “You crave this as much as I do.”
Her pulse races under my fingers in a frenzied rhythm. Such a pliant creature, my little shadow. Our movements are frantic, primal. Her nails rake down my back, her gasps and moans fuelling the fire in my veins. There’s no tenderness here, no love. Just raw, unfiltered need.
More tears spill down her cheeks, but her gasp sounds less like a protest and more like surrender.
“You’ll. Never. Be. Rid. Of. Me.” Each word is punctuated with a sharp thrust.
It doesn’t matter Caleb fucked her only hours ago. After all, we share the same dick. She needs him. I’ve come to terms with that fact over the last few hours. Even if it did leave a bitter taste in my mouth.
But she needs me too. She admitted it. I make her feel things she won’t admit to. In the moment, she might believe my words, but soon enough she’ll know them, live them, breathe them.
I slide a hand up her slender neck and cup her face. Maeve’s eyes are wild, pupils blown wide. Just like our last moments together in the orphanage, her eyes on me as I lit the final match.
Soon, she’ll remember all of it.
“You can’t leave me,” I murmur, brushing my thumb across her swollen lips. “We’re bound now, you and me. Two halves of a broken whole.”
Her body spasms, each tremor bringing her closer to the truth.
“Asher,” she whispers, her voice cracking around the edges. “Why don’t I remember?”
“Hush now.” I crush my lips to hers, swallowing her moans as I slide my free hand between us, my fingertips finding her sweet spot. “There’ll be plenty of time for remembering.”
She writhes against me, breathing fast, uncontrolled. My name falls from her full lips like a prayer, but it’s our curse that binds us.
Maeve’s resolve crumbles as my fingers reach the intended result. She cries out, nails digging into my shoulders as I work her mercilessly. Her head falls back against the wall with a dull thud, exposing the elegant line of her throat.
Groaning, I sink my teeth into her soft flesh, licking and sucking at her pulse point.
I smirk against her skin. I’ve won. I always win.
A rush of heat claims me, my balls tightening, my legs shaking. Maeve bites down on my shoulder to muffle her scream.
We stay locked together, panting, our bodies slick with sweat. Slowly, I ease her back onto her feet. Her knees buckle beneath her.
“Easy now.” I steady her, a hand on her waist.
Maeve shoves me away, and pulls her clothes back into place, her movements hurried and shaky. Her skin is flushed, and her kiss-swollen lips have me wanting to push her to her knees. But her eyes—those goddamn eyes—burn with defiance.
For fuck’s sake. We’re back to this again.
Without another word, she wraps her arms around her waist as though they’ll protect her from me, and storms off, her footsteps unsteady. I stare after her. I’ll let her go. Just for a moment. Let her think she’s in control.
Three.
Two.
One.
That’s enough time.
My movements are unhurried, yet I eat up the distance between us, my steps silent on the damp pavement. “Maeve,” I call out, my voice low but firm. “Stop.”
She freezes, her obedience claiming her, and turns to face me, exhaustion etched into her features. “What, Asher?” She sighs. “What do you want now?”
I arch an eyebrow, the corner of my mouth twitching into a smirk. “Let me follow you home. Make sure you get there safely.”
Seconds pass, she remains still, her eyes narrowing as if she’s weighing the risks of letting me near her again.
Finally, she exhales sharply and nods. “Fine. But you’re not coming inside.”
She stalks off ahead, her hair whipping out behind her, wrapping me in her vanilla scent. I trail behind, scanning the shadows, the dark corners. Maeve might be angry, but she’s not stupid. She knows the world is full of monsters, and not all of them look like me.
We reach her car, and she unlocks the door, sliding in without a word. I follow in my car, the streets quiet, the fog closing in like a living thing. I pull up behind Maeve in her driveway and kill the engine.
I step out and lean against the hood, crossing my arms, and scanning the surrounding forest. The air around Maeve’s house feels wrong. Too quiet. Too still. If I felt fear, I imagine it would feel something like this.
Maeve fumbles with her keys, mumbling under her breath.
It’s almost amusing. Almost.
“Relax,” I say, the smirk on my lips more for my benefit than hers. “No-one’s coming for you. Unless, of course, you’re inviting me in.”
Maeve freezes mid-motion, her back stiffening. “You’re unbelievable,” she mutters, shoving the key into the lock.
Movement. Slight, but there. A shadow shifting where there shouldn’t be one. The air sharpens, thickens, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
Every nerve snaps to attention, my instincts howling like sirens beneath my skin.
“Maeve,” I say, my voice low, insistent. “Get inside. Now.”
She turns, confusion written on her face. “What?”
Too late.
Figures emerge from the darkness like predators on a hunt—swift, coordinated, and armed. Four of them. My muscles coil as I lunge toward Maeve.
A sharp sting rips through my chest, like that from a wasp.
I glance down—a small metal barb lodged in my skin.
Fuck. A tranquilliser.
Warmth spreads from the injection site, my limbs growing heavy. The irony would almost be funny if I wasn’t seconds away from losing consciousness.
I stumble, my vision doubling, then narrowing.
“Asher!” Maeve’s scream cuts through the haze.
She fights against one of the hooded figures, her keys clattering to the ground. She claws and kicks, wild and feral, but it’s not enough.
Another shadow moves in on me, suffocating me with a cloth over my mouth and nose. The sickly-sweet reek of chloroform floods my senses, and my legs give out beneath me. My knees hit the gravel, the tiny rocks like a thousand pins shooting through my kneecaps. My body jerks, instinctively resisting, but the drug is faster.
In seconds, my muscles slacken, my strength ebbing away.
I dig my fingers into the dirt, dragging myself. “Little Shadow.” I choke on the words. “I’m coming.”
Maeve’s eyes are wide, pleading, and full of terror she’ll never admit to. I know the look all too well.
Caleb.
Her scream shreds the night as two blurred figures drag her away, her hands outstretched, reaching for me like I’m the only thing left tethering her to this world.
My eyelids slam shut.
And the darkness takes me.