“You’re standing in a ghost,” the man said blandly from where he was pouring hot coffee into a mug.
What a weird combination of words. Ashlyn looked down and around her, but nope. No ghost.
“Look, can you just move three feet to the left,” the man gritted out.
“God, you’re weird.”
“Well, at least I’m not wearing all pink. You’re hurting my eyes.”
“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt your eyes if you turned on a damn light every once in a while and added some color to your own wardrobe. Why are you so grumpy? Are you like one of those mountain hermits who hates people?”
“Yes,” he deadpanned. And then he made his way to her—his boots echoing against the floorboards too loudly—and shoved the half-full mug of steaming coffee at her.
“This isn’t hot chocolate.”
“And you’re a beggar. Don’t be a chooser, too. I don’t have hot chocolate. I have coffee. Black.”
“Of course, it’s black.” She dragged her gaze down his monochromatic clothes and tried to look severe as she took the mug. “Thanks.”
He gave her an empty smile. “My pleasure. I’m gonna call Blaire and hurry her up.”
Ashlyn sipped the coffee and made a bitter face. “Good luck with that. She isn’t answering her phone right now,” she said as he pushed buttons on his phone. She’d called her a dozen times over the last couple days, but nothing.
He pulled it up to his ear and said, “Hey, you have a visitor, an annoying one… I don’t know, Blaire, she’s loud. And pushy. Ashlyn. Great, see you in a few.”
Ashlyn made an offended noise. Blaire answered for him? But not for her supposed best friend? Sudden emotion prickled her eyes, but the man was staring at her now, and she didn’t want him to see how slapped she felt. Blinking hard, she made her way to the kitchen and set the mug near the sink. “You can drink the rest of this,” she said thickly. “I promise I don’t have mouth herpes.” As she walked past the man, she murmured, “It was kind of nice to meet you. Thanks for calling her.”
Feeling utterly rejected, she made her way to the door and opened it.
“I’m Asher,” the man said from behind her.
She turned and made an attempt to smile, but it came out a stupid lip tremble instead. Ashlyn swallowed hard and tried to make a joke. “Do you go by Ash for short, too? Because then we could be Ash and Ash.”
“No.” His tone had come out hard and cold, but at least his eyes had softened a little.
“Fantastic. It was super fun talking to you Asher. Have a nice time in your precious dark.” She flipped off the light switch just to piss him off and closed the door a little too hard behind her.
But when she made her way back to the car and got in, he still hadn’t turned the light back on. She frowned at the shadowy house. What a sexy weirdo.
Maybe Asher really did like the darkness.
Chapter Two
What the hell just happened?
Asher’s heart was banging against his chest like some creature trying to escape the bars of his ribcage. His breath came too rapidly, and his hands tingled with the first phase of the Change. He clenched his fists and looked out the small peephole on his door to catch a glimpse of Ashlyn sauntering to her car, arms wrapped around herself like she was cold.
Pitiful, beautiful human. It was her color that made him release a long exhale. He could see everyone’s color. Maybe it was their aura, he didn’t know. He didn’t give a shit what it was called. He only knew he could see things beyond this world, and Ashlyn was a pure and vibrant blue, like a clear sky. Like summer after the rains. He’d never seen a color more beautiful than hers.
Which made no sense because she annoyed the shit out of him. She pestered, demanded, joked, and smiled too much. She would be an exhausting woman to keep occupied. One of those who had probably never sat still a moment in their life. An on-the-goer, where he liked to sit still in the shadows and observe. She was a creature of the light, and he was a creature of the darkest corners. The Taker in him would love to taste a woman whose color looked so pure, but the wolf in him snarled at the idea. Protective instincts? Did he have those? Maybe with Gentry and Roman, Blaire and Mila, but not with a stranger. Not with a human. Humans died too easily. He could swallow up her light and turn her into a gray, dead thing in minutes.
Movement caught his attention, and he slid a hate-filled glance to the ghost of Dad who was walking from the other side of the room toward him, worry in his eyes. “Stop,” Asher commanded. And he did. Asher smiled. Dad probably hated that Asher could control him in the afterlife. Prick deserved to be controlled. He’d ruined Asher’s life the day he kicked him out of the pack.
The other ghosts along the wall moved closer, shaking their heads, trying to tell him something he didn’t care to listen to, so he flicked his fingers and banished them from the house. They disappeared in plumes of mahogany smoke. All but Dad, who lingered.
“She’s important.” Dad hadn’t moved his lips, but his words rang clear as a bell through the house.
With a snarl, Asher banished him, too. Fucker knew better than to talk to him. He hadn’t tried until now, and something about that made Asher angry. His first words should’ve been, “I’m sorry.” They should’ve been, “I was wrong to kick you and Roman out of the pack, wrong to choose Gentry as my favored son, wrong for sending you straight to Hell.” Not, “She’s important.”