Home > Asher (Wolves of Winter's Edge #3)(5)

Asher (Wolves of Winter's Edge #3)(5)
Author: T.S. Joyce

He could see everything inside the cabin. It wasn’t a lie when he’d said he liked darkness. The shadows comforted him. It’s where a creature like him belonged. He could see better in the dark, hear better, sense better. The light in the fridge was too damn bright as he pulled a beer from it, so he closed it fast and twisted the top off the bottle, dropped the cap to the counter, and took a long swig. He stared at the stupid I love you beary much magnet Roman had made for Dad in second grade. That was before Roman had realized he couldn’t win Dad’s affection unless he morphed into Gentry.

Annoyed, Asher ripped the magnet off the fridge and chucked it into the trash. This place sucked. Carefully, he lifted the blind on the front window. Ashlyn was rubbing her hands together, her shoulders hunched like she was cold. Her mittens were the same eye-scorching pink of her jacket and ski pants. Did the woman own anything that wasn’t neon?

The blue of her aura was so wide it encased the entire car. She was still singing, but too soft for him to understand the words now.

The back door flew open and banked against the wall. “What the fuck, Asherhole!” Roman yelled.

He really hated that name.

Asher let the blind fall and turned slowly as Roman flicked on the light. The illumination hurt, but Asher composed his face as Roman hissed at him like a vampire. A naked vampire who apparently didn’t give a shit about clothing himself in front of Mila and Blaire. He’d always been the potential nudist of the family.

Blaire and Mila were naked, too, but were at least covering themselves as they slunk up the stairs toward the bedroom where there were changes of clothes in the closet.

Gentry didn’t bother with shaking him down. Nope, Gentry blurred to him and cracked Asher across the face with a closed fist. “I told you to stop forcing that stuff!” he yelled. “We aren’t your pack, you prick! We’re rogues and don’t answer to an alpha, and you’ve been pulling that alpha shit way too much lately.”

Asher didn’t even fight back, just licked blood from his split lip and gave his middle brother an empty smile. “Blaire’s friend is here.”

“What?” Gentry asked.

“Ashlyn is here to take Blaire home.” Asher strode by Gentry, slamming his shoulder as he passed. “Your mate, your problem. Get rid of the human before the Bone-Rippers figure out she’s here.”

“The Bone-Rippers won’t hurt her. They aren’t under Rhett anymore.”

“Yeah?” Asher asked too loud, turning at the stairs. “Who are they under? Mila hasn’t claimed her place yet. She hasn’t even fucking told them she took alpha. You’ve got a pack of monster wolves that Rhett fucked up, all without any leadership, all human-haters. But sure, Blaire’s friend is probably super-safe in Rangeley. It’s a good risk to take.”

Roman flipped him off, and without a thought to the consequences, Asher gave into his anger and snapped his fingers. Dad appeared right beside Roman in a plume of black smoke. Roman startled hard and then set his shocked gaze on Asher.

“Flip me off again and see what I can really do,” Asher dared him.

Wide-eyed, Roman covered his dick, sidled away from Dad, who was staring at him, and then angled his face to expose his neck to Asher.

Not that he cared about Roman showing submission. Asher knew he was monster. Knew he was dominant. Didn’t want it and didn’t need the fealty of his brothers or anyone else in this world. It was just another stupid reminder that he was different.

He curled his lips back and gave Roman a hate-filled glare before he climbed the stairs behind the hearth two at a time and made his way into the bathroom. There were too many Striker brothers in too small a space. It made him want to kill things.

He turned on the light out of anger to punish himself. They had everything—mates… Well, they had mates, and that was everything, right? They had companions, and he was destined to walk this earth alone. The light flickered and buzzed as Asher stared at his blazing silver eyes in the mirror. And for a second, he imagined it. He imagined holding hands with a woman like Ashlyn—someone light and happy, who sang at the top of her lungs and wore bright colors.

His aura was black, and hers was blue, and a beauty and a beast did not a power couple make. Not when it would get the beauty killed.

Asher gripped the edge of the sink as the lights buzzed harder and one of the bulbs blew.

It wasn’t fair.

“Asher, cut it out!” Blaire yelled through the bathroom door. “You’re going to kill the power to the inn again!”

Fuck. Asher sighed and closed his eyes, loosened his grip on the sink, and thought about the way Ashlyn had demanded hot chocolate like she wasn’t a fragile Red Riding Hood talking to the hungry wolf.

Blaire and Gentry would fix this, convince her to leave, and all would be well in Hunter Cove again.

Only the thought of her leaving did something strange and awful to his wolf, and the rest of the lights popped and showered him with sparks.

Downstairs, Roman yelled, “Seriously, Asher? God, you’re such a boob-dick!”

Asher sighed and gritted his teeth, then shoved off the sink and yanked the door open. Blaire and Mila were feeling their way down the hallway toward the stairs, holding hands and looking all pitiful. They were wolves, and their vision would adjust soon, but in the meantime, he snuck past them quietly and jogged down the stairs to go mess with the fuse box.

He smelled her before he saw her. He turned around and ran right into the little pink-clad hellion. She cried out and scrunched up her face, her hands splayed on his chest. Asher froze. Her touch felt so fucking good. Heart hammering, breath coming in short pants, he whispered, “What are you doing in here?”

   
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