Blood on the Moon
Chapter 20: Consumed

Rose

When I walk in, he’s sitting at the kitchen table, his hand wrapped around a glass. I try to see what’s in the glass before he notices I’m here, but unfortunately, a wolf’s sense of smell is just as good, if not better, than a vampire’s.

“I’m surprised you came,” he says, turning to open his body to me, revealing the neat three fingers of whiskey in his glass, the bottle in the middle of the table. “I thought you may hate me.”

“I thought the same,” I reply tentatively as I sit. “But I heard about tensions with River Run and your pack, so I figured you followed my advice.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, hanging his head. “I did.”

“What made you choose that?” I ask. “You were hesitant last time I saw you.”

“I was in a situation where I had to,” he answers vaguely. “It feels wrong, but I know I had no choice.”

“It’ll be fine, Asher,” I comfort, reaching out to grab his shoulder. “You’re not a bad person for prioritizing yourself.”

He scoffs. “Yeah. Just feels shitty that I’m throwing someone else under the bus to do it.”

He runs his hand through his hair and tilts his head back, and I notice something strange.

There’s a hint of purple around his temple, the skin swollen and a little glossy. But there’s a beige covering over it, like a thick application of foundation.

“What’s that on your temple?” I ask, leaning forward to grab his chin before he can turn away from me. I use my thumb to wipe the area gently, smearing the makeup to reveal a massive, ugly bruise underneath. “Asher!” I cry.

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” I shriek. “You have a huge bruise on the side of your face!” I retort. “That’s not nothing.”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” He cries, his eyes flying open defensively. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”

I sigh, stroking his hair behind his ear. “I’m worried about you, Ash.”

My heart aches for him. He doesn’t have to tell me, but I know Genevieve did this to him. I don’t know how or why, but she did it. She hurt him.

I clench my fist, a rage unlike anything I’ve felt in my life surges through my veins. I want to kill her. Snap her neck and watch the life drain out as I pin her to the ground and gouge her eyes out. I’ll hit her in the temple, too. The exact spot she hurt Asher.

I’ll make it slow and painful. Something quick and easy would be too good for her. I wouldn’t dare drain her of blood because she’d likely taste of shit, and I wouldn’t want to give her the satisfaction of watching her stick it to me one last time. No.

I would inject my venom into her. There are two types of venom vampires carry. One that gives our victims a high and disarms them and another that causes a paralyzing kind of pain that brings even the strongest to their knees. I’ll use that kind and pump her full of it, even if it means I have to wait ages for my reserves to replenish. I don’t care. I want her to suffer the way she’s made Asher suffer.

“Rose, please,” he begs. “Your eyes are bright red.”

I relax, noticing my nails are digging into my palms so tightly they’ve torn the skin.

“I’m not angry at you, Asher.”

“I know,” he replies. “But you should be.”

“Why would I be angry at you?” I ask, cupping his face. “I understand why you don’t want to talk about it, even if it is frustrating.”

“I meant you should be angry at me for what I did a few days ago,” he states, his voice hoarse with regret. “What I did was…” He trails off.

“We don’t have to dwell on it,” I say, brushing it off, even though I am still upset. But I don’t want to stress him out when clearly something terrible has happened.

“Don’t push your feelings to the side on my account,” he urges, reading right through me. “You deserve an apology. We engaged in intimacy, wanted intimacy on my part,” he says, placing his hand on his chest to indicate his sincerity. “And I got freaked out because I’m mated, which is not your problem. I cheated, and that’s my fault. That’s on me.”

“Asher, you didn’t cheat,” I try to comfort him.

He shakes his head. “Whether it is warranted or not, I cheated. And my wolf reacted. That’s why I pulled away so suddenly,” he explains. “But it was me who ran away without an explanation. And that was wrong. I left you when you were upset when I had wronged you. I left you alone to pick up the pieces after sharing an intimate moment, which was wrong of me. It was wrong of me to let it go that far when I still have unresolved feelings, but it was more wrong of me not to face what I had done and instead run away from it. I shouldn’t have, and I care about you too much to let you believe you deserved to be alone in that moment.”

“I…” I trail off, resting my hands on my hips. “I am angry, Asher. But not at you. I’m mad at the situation.”

“I am too.”

I press my lips together, struggling to keep my emotions at bay. “A-And it really hurt when you left me alone. When you abandoned me.”

“Oh, Rose,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around me in a hug. “I’m so sorry. I never want you to feel abandoned.”

“I-I just felt di-disgusting, and l-like I had don-done something wrong!”

“You did nothing wrong, Rose,” he reassures, squeezing me tightly. “You’re fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay? This one is on me. Please don’t cry, Rose.”

“I-I’m sorry,” I mumble, trying to hold back the dams before they break. But it’s hard. I can smell him so clearly this close, and he smells like dessert. He smells like indulgence. I want him. No, I need him.

But I can feel his heart racing against my chest, thumping against his ribs as he holds me, his chin resting on my head. I can feel his pain as if it’s permeating through his skin into mine.

What is Genevieve doing to him? What happened that led to the bruise?

Is that why he told her about River Run? Was he at a point where it was either die or put some heat on someone else? Was she that close to killing him?

I shudder at the thought. I don’t want to lose him.

His nails dig harder into my back as he burrows his face in the crook of my neck, now allowing me to hug him. He needs comfort; I can feel it. He needs me just as much as I need him.

His back lurches as he cries, cradling me in his large body, yet so vulnerable in this moment. Like a child sobbing into his mother’s chest after being bullied for the first time. Except whatever he’s crying over is far more severe.

“Shh,” I soothe, rubbing his back. “You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”

This makes him hold me tighter as if he’s fighting against the notion but also clinging to it desperately. He needs to feel this way but doesn’t know if he can.

I want to tell him something else, too—something I only realize now.

I want to tell him I love him. That I’m in love with him. That I would never let anyone hurt him, and I’d protect him with the last fiber of my being. I want to tell him that I love him so much I’d let him consume every part of my soul and take it on as his own. That I’d let him use my body for pleasure, experiencing what it feels like for the first time. I want to tell him I’d provide him the loving touch he deserves. I’d whisper it in his ear every night before he closes his eyes, whether he says it back or not.

I want to scream from the rooftops that I love him. That he is the air I breathe and the blood I drink. Fuck, I want to sip him. I want to sink my fangs into his neck, give him a dose of ecstasy, and take his pain away.

I want to hold his hand, jump on his shoulders, ride his cock, rest my head on his chest, twirl his curly hair around my fingers. I want to feel his smile on my cheek, his rugged hands on my waist, his words brush against my teeth.

I want to tell him he deserves this love and that I’m happy to give it to him. I want to say to him that I love him so much there is no need to forgive him for what happened earlier because this love possesses me in an all-consuming way I never knew was possible.

And it’s all hitting me like a ton of bricks as we stand, holding each other, held together by the nameless force. The anonymous force that has coaxed me into foolishly falling for him. Helpless and surrendered.

I wonder if he feels the same for me? Do I dare ask? Do I dare confess?

No.

Not now. He needs my support, not my revelations.

But whether I’m ready to speak and he’s prepared to hear it or not, the truth remains.

I’m in love with Asher.