To Love a Vampire - A.K. Koonce Page 0,23

posture changes, feet apart, fists clenched the way he has countless times during our training. Asher paces a small circle in front of him, working his jaw back and forth, a twisting smile lingering on his bloody lips.

Kaino pushes his way through the mass of people, the crowd bowing around the commander. Asher nods to him in acknowledgment, a seemingly pleasant gesture between friends. Kaino doesn’t acknowledge the greeting, nor does he come between the two. It isn’t the Wanderer’s way. If confrontation occurs, it’ll be settled immediately and never spoke of again. It will not be a reoccurring event.

Asher finally stops his short circular pacing and walks predatorily back to Declan. Declan stands on edge. His mind clearly working to calculate Asher’s next move.

Standing face-to-face with one another it’s strange to think I found any similarity between them. Asher’s lean frame has become wrapped in muscle, still the beautiful hybrid I met over a year ago but stronger and angrier than he once was. I guess I am as well. It’s what heartbreak does to a person. It makes you angry, but it also makes you stronger than you ever thought you could be.

Asher gives Declan another sadistically warm smile. Gently, he raises his palm to the side of Declan’s face. Declan’s eyes follow the slow, calm movement. Asher pats his hand against Declan’s jaw the way a proud father would his son.

“When I said never to touch her again,” Asher’s eyes are lit red against the flames of the fire, his bloody smile never faltering as his low voice travels through the crowd. “That goes for me, too.” He taps his palm one last time against Declan’s jaw before shoving Declan’s face down and slamming his other fist into the side of Declan’s head. It happens so fast I barely track the movement at all.

I watch in horror as the side of Declan’s face collides with Asher’s fist, the sound of bone cracking fills the silence. The power in which Asher shoves Declan’s face and the force of his fist connecting knocks Declan out immediately.

My stomach rolls and threatens to release all the alcohol I’ve dumped into it over the last couple hours. Asher lifts his eyes from Declan’s motionless body on the ground to where I stand. The smile that was on display for Declan still mars his face but it’s a sad, forced smile now.

He takes a couple of slow confident steps toward me. A guilty look fills his face as he searches my eyes as if expecting anger there. But I’m not angry. Declan had no right to say what he did. I wish it hadn’t had happened at all but I’m not my friend's keeper.

Asher turns his head to spit, red tinged saliva covers the dirt. Blood still stains his throat, lips, and fists but when I look into his beautiful eyes, I’m filled with surprised happiness that he’s still in there. My Asher. The one that cares if I think he’s a monster or not.

“In case we never get formally introduced here,” he holds out his bloody hand to me, his closeness spreading warmth into me. “My name’s Asher Xavier.”

Eight

A Life Long Lost

Of course, I dream that night. It starts bittersweet this time. I dream of my mother. A nocturnal memory of my childhood. She’s reading a fairy tale in my tiny bedroom back at our camp, the four walls closed tightly in on us. I’m curled up next to her as she tells tales of clever princesses and daring princes. The mother-daughter bond stirs questions of my father in my childlike mind. I push the thought of my father aside and snuggle closer to my mother. Happy just to have her here.

A confused aching grows heavy in my chest, a pain that I can’t quite grasp. I smother the feeling out immediately and let my eyes drift closed as I listen to my mother’s smooth voice calm me. So different from how we spoke just before she died.

She died.

The words float into my mind and my sad adolescent eyes jar open. But see nothing. Only darkness surrounds me. I feel around my blankets, but she’s gone and I am alone. The warmth my mother’s memory provided is also gone. A coldness bites into my skin and I struggle to burrow into the thin blankets.

“Fallon.” A whisper echoes around the small room.

I still beneath the blanket and consider hiding my head from the eerie voice.

“Fallon, follow me and you’ll never suffer the feeling