Blood on the Moon
Chapter 8: Heartbeat

Rose

I sit in the conference room, wearing a dark wine-red dress that hugs my curves tightly, the cowl neckline showing off my breasts enough to draw attention but not scream for it. I don’t want to seem too overt, but I wouldn’t mind if Asher steals a glance or two.

Maybe even Genevieve, too. Watching her squirm would be quite the show.

I pick up my glass of white wine, swirling it before taking a deep breath through my nose, letting the fruity notes liven my senses: peach, grapefruit, and a little bit of lemon. I love a good citrus wine that packs a punch, even if I sometimes enjoy a red with more body.

Regular food and drink don’t sustain vampires, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it. And the effects of alcohol still work on us, thank God. Life would be so dull if you couldn’t be tipsy every once in a while.

“When do our esteemed guests arrive?” I ask Victor, sitting next to me in one of his nicer suits. Not his best, but he looks sharp in it. He’s wearing a midnight blue tie to accompany the all-black ensemble. He looks good as he swirls the small splash of wine in his glass, having barely touched his scant pour. He probably doesn’t want me to feel alone, and I can tell he’s too irked to drink, even though he needs it.

“Five minutes ago,” Victor replies, glancing at his watch as he shakes his head, frustrated. “Werewolves run on their own fucking schedule, and that’s me giving them the benefit of the doubt.”

“The benefit we shall give them,” I reply, polishing off the rest of my glass, clicking it with my nail to indicate to Victor, who has the bottle next to him, that I need a refill. “Hopefully, they arrive before I’m drunk.”

He chuckles softly as he pours me a healthy serving. “Are you nervous? You don’t make a habit of drinking this much before important meetings.”

I open my mouth to reply, but the sound of the double doors to the dining room opening stops me just as I breathe.

My eyes rake over his body as he enters, his fingers casually clasping the inside of a finely tailored black suit jacket, a crisp white dress shirt underneath. The top two buttons are undone, just as they were before.

I glance behind him but see nobody following.

“Alpha Asher,” I greet as I walk toward him slowly, letting my hips roll with each step as I lick my painted lips. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

I can practically taste the blood rushing through his veins as he eyes me up and down, not even trying to hide it, as he steps toward me.

I reach my hand out to shake, but instead, he grasps it gently, bringing my knuckles to his lips and planting a soft kiss on the top of my hand. I shiver, my fangs aching as they linger.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he answers, his voice husky, his breath tickling my skin as he lifts his head, letting go of my hand.

Well, this is a far cry from the man I left in the interrogation room. He has an air of confidence around him. Swagger, even.

I wonder if tonight is the fluke in behavior or if the interrogation was?

Or maybe...

Maybe if I let my mind wander, allowing it to think devilishly.

Maybe I have this effect on him? Maybe I make him feel more confident.

Maybe he was eager to see me? Practicing what he’d say or do when he saw me in the mirror this morning?

I smile.

“Ah-hum!”

I jump slightly, having forgotten Victor was in the room.

He asks, “Where is your mate, Alpha?”

Asher flashes a wry smile my way and replies gently, “She sent me here for the negotiations. She had other business to attend to.”

“Seems like your partner is making a habit of skirting meetings with me,” I reply, wasting no time as I observe him. I motion for him to take a seat, and he does. “Should I be offended?”

Victor offers him wine, but Asher shakes his head, lifting his hand to refuse.

Does he prefer red?

I hide my disappointment. He is a serious man, and I wouldn’t doubt he prefers to stay sober during negotiations. But one of the few things wolves and vampires have in common is our affinity for revelry, so I’m surprised.

One of the best parties I’ve ever been to was when I crashed a post-pack meeting party at River Run Pack.

They sure know how to throw down, especially after Alpha Evander took control.

Nice guy, even though we didn’t talk much. I mostly communicate with their pack through his Beta. From what I observed, Evander’s a little bit of a playboy, but he treated me as an equal.

And that goes a long way with me.

I take a sip from my glass, much like I’d like to take a sip of Asher, as I watch his lips move, his voice gliding through the air seemingly only into my ears.

“Well, let’s see how this conversation goes, and I’ll let you know,” he says, his voice sounding so sultry even though I’m sure he doesn’t intend it. Maybe I’m making up the deep inflection, the glimmer in his eye.

I wish we were alone. I don’t think we’d do much talking if I had it my way, but at least it’d be more fun than all this political bullshit.

“Victor,” I say with a smile, glancing at him. “Seeing as Alpha Asher has come alone, I think it might be best if he and I speak privately.”

I switch my gaze to Asher quickly, studying his expression as it changes, his eyes widening as he sits up straighter. He seems taken aback, off guard.

But not upset.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.

“That would be fine,” he answers, with far less charm and inflection than his previous sentences.

Victor stands, resting his hand on my shoulder, and I can swear I hear a low snarl from across the table. But maybe I’m hearing things.

“Are you sure about this?” Victor asks quietly.

I’ve never been more sure of anything, I want to reply.

“I’m a big girl,” I assure him. “He might be more willing to open up about what’s really happening at Black Opal if we’re one-on-one.”

“Alright, just holler if you need me,” he replies, squeezing my shoulder twice before departing.

I turn my attention to Asher, our eyes locked with one another as I hear Victor’s steps march toward the door.

We sit silently, waiting with bated breath for those doors to open and close, and when they do...

All bets will be off.

Whoosh, I hear the wind move through the air as the doors close with a click, and I smile, swirling my wine in the glass.

“Change your mind about having some, Alpha?” I ask, glancing at the bottle.

He smiles, standing and walking to the other side of the table, standing in front of where Victor was sitting, right next to me, as he lifts the bottle, pouring himself a glass.

I can feel his aura as he moves so effortlessly enchanting. He doesn’t even realize how hopelessly drawn in I am by his magnetic force - Something stronger than divine intervention, stronger than determinism.

Fate?

No, it’s more intentional.

Choice?

No, it’s more inescapable.

Even if I don't know what to call it, the unknown force keeps me enthralled.

The muscles in his neck flex slightly, the vein thumping with ferocity. He’s nervous, but not because of the meeting.

Because of me.

“It’d be rude to let a lady drink alone,” he whispers before sitting, angling the chair to face me, and I do the same.

When I have the chair positioned where I want, our bodies facing each other head-on, I make a show of uncrossing my legs, pausing for a moment before crossing them again on the other side.

He gulps, biting his lip as he fights not to look, and he doesn’t.

What a gentleman.

“Shall we get this business talk out of the way?” I ask, reaching across the empty space with my glass, which he politely clinks with his before we both take a sip.

He nods, staying silent.

“I know why Genevieve sent you here,” I tell him, setting my glass down as I lace my fingers together, resting them on my stomach. “She wants you to lay down the hammer, show me who’s boss, so I can cry to her begging for mercy. She’s angry you didn’t toy with me more during the interrogation, isn’t she?”

His eyes widen with shock, likely surprised I put it together. But I’d be a fool not to since Genevive hasn’t put much effort into hiding her distaste for me. She would have handled my interrogation much differently than her more even-tempered mate.

“But you don’t want to lay the hammer down,” I continue, scowling, mainly because my mind reminded me he's mated. “Because you and Genevieve’s sister are reasonable people. You understand I’m not the kind of woman who will bend the knee to anyone, so intimidating me into submission is out of the question. And I’m better as a friend rather than a foe. You’re intelligent enough to understand this. My question is, why isn’t Genevive?”

“Genevieve isn’t stupid,” Asher replies, a little too defensive of her for my liking. “But…”

He trails off, biting his lip and glancing at me warily.

“You can trust me.”

“It’s not that,” he replies, shaking his head.

“Then what is it?” I ask.

“I…” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

I can’t help it when a small giggle escapes my mouth, earning a sheepish grin from him.

“I promise I’ve heard far worse things than anything that could come out of your mouth,” I assure him.

“She’s just very prejudicial against vampires,” he admits. “So she has no interest in working with you. She’d rather be foes than friends with your kind, even if it costs her.”

“Ouch,” I reply sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “So she asked you to come here as your proxy and do what? Scream at me? Tell me to go fuck myself?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Why aren’t you?” I ask, leaning forward, my eyes narrowing on him as I turn up the heat. “Why aren’t you getting in my face and letting your eyes glow as you tell me a vermin like me has no right to ask a prominent wolf pack to be your ally?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“And what will you tell her when you get back?” I ask. “Are you going to tell her you didn’t want to? Or did you already say you wouldn’t when you left?”

He bites his lip, leaning back as he stares at the glass of wine, taking a long sip.

“You don’t know what you’re going to tell her.”

He nods, his face too stoic to read.

Why won’t he tell her? Couldn’t he put his foot down and stop this nonsense? Tell her she’s being unreasonable?

Instead, he defends her and claims she’s not stupid.

Why?

“If I were you,” I start, resting my hand on the table, close to where his hand rests over the stem of his glass. “I’d tell her one of two things.”

His breath hitches as he glances at my hand, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as his eyes dart back and forth between my face and our hands.

“And they are?” He croaks.

“You can go home and tell her the truth. That you think burning bridges with me is a bad idea and diplomacy is the way to go. We’ll sit here for the next hour or so and come up with some terms, and you’ll present those to her for discussion, but make sure she knows that with or without her approval, you’ll take it to whatever governing body you have to make it official.”

I pause, watching his face, but it’s stone, his eyes devoid of all liveliness. He’s looking into the distance like some vampires I know who fought in wars do when recounting the worst things they've seen. It's as if this topic is draining the life out of him, draining his essence.

“Or,” I continue. “You can lie to her and say you screamed at me. Tell her every little thing she wants to hear. I won’t take it personally, especially if you need to lie for your survival.”

I lift my hand, then rest it on top of his. His hand flinches slightly, but he doesn’t move, and I watch his shoulders rise and fall with a deep, shaky breath.

“Do you?” I ask as he stares at our hands, his jaw tight.

“Do I what?” He asks, his gaze fixed.

“Need to lie for your survival?” I ask.

“You looked…” I pause, biting my lip, hoping he may fill in the blank for me, but he doesn’t. He looks catatonic and disconnected. I can only hope my assumptions won’t throw him on the defense. “...Terrified when I mentioned the idea of standing up to her.”

He bows his head, almost ashamed, my heart shattering in my chest.

“Is she hurting you, Asher?” I ask gently.

His head perks up, and he pulls his hand away, and I can feel him shutting down.

“I’m sorry if that was too personal,” I quickly correct, hoping he won’t leave when I fear I’m closing in on the truth. I hope it’s not true, but my instincts are rarely wrong. I have a sixth sense about people, almost an uncanny one. “We can talk about something else for a while if you’d like.”

My instincts tell me Alpha Asher is not an Alpha by choice, at least not the kind he'd like to be. Nor is he happy in his mate pairing, but that may be my desire creeping in rather than an objective observation.

What is she holding over him? Or is it their Council threatening them? Do they refuse to accept him as their Alpha, and that's why he feels emasculated and afraid of defying Genevieve's will? Or maybe he isn't scared of Genevieve and is afraid to talk with their Council? Perhaps they're the ones giving orders?

Maybe that's why their mate bond is unhappy. Any bond would break under stress like that.

Or maybe my first thought was correct, and she's pulling the strings.

But how?

I want to ask him, but I know that would push him too far.

I’ll need to build more of a rapport with him if he’s going to open up about those kinds of things, especially since he seems like the closed-book, man-of-few-words type to begin with. Who knows how much worse that’s gotten if she silences him on top of that?

He relaxes, smiling at the idea.

“It might be nice to discuss something other than politics for once.”

I smile, gesturing to the wine. “Well, that Albariño won’t drink itself. What do you say we polish it off together?”

He chuckles, his laugh like a symphony echoing through the room, kickstarting a beat in my chest.

I hide my surprise, the feel of a heartbeat foreign to me, but I felt it. I felt it skip. No, leap.

“Let’s.”