Howler's Night (13 page)

The heavy lines shading his eyes were what finally released me from the perpetual nightmares that plague my sleep.

“We’re in a bedroom. It’s just you and me,” he whispered softly. “Nothing here can hurt you.”

His body was warm. He was sitting with his knees spread on either side of me, and I could see the contours of his muscular chest and arms flexing as he held me still.

I nodded and took in a jerky, shuddery breath.

“You hear me, little demon? You’re safe. I’m going to let you go now.”

I bit my lip and glanced to the side as his hands carefully eased off me.

The bedside clock read just barely three in the morning.

“I’m sorry, Ash.” I closed my eyes and rubbed my pounding skull. My heart still didn’t beat normally; it was running sprints inside me.

“It’s fine.”

It was not fine.
I
was not fine. Far from it. But I remembered what he’d told me at the spring earlier and I knew he’d snap at me again if I said it, so I pinched my mouth shut and nodded, pretending like I’d accepted his words for what they were.

Absolution. That I was forgiven.

But his words meant nothing to me when I couldn’t even forgive myself.

Rolling onto his back, he draped an arm over his eyes. I didn’t even know what to say to him. He’d never asked me what’d happened there, and I didn’t know whether that meant he didn’t care (which I doubted—no one sane would continue to put up with my crap if they didn’t care... that at least I could recognize as the truth now) or he just didn’t want me to revisit it.

Truth was, I didn’t want to talk about it. With anyone. But I also wished there was someone in the world who understood me enough to know. And he was the only someone I wanted it to be.

Sitting up and thoroughly disgusted with myself, I knew there’d be no more sleep for me that night. Anytime I closed my eyes it was always the same old crap anyway.

I shoved my fingers through my hair, and the scars across my chest and thighs stretched the tight skin.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d sat there before I realized Asher wasn’t asleep. His large, warm palm gently rubbed my back.

It felt so good and so awful at the same time. I scooted forward, out of reach. All I wanted was for Ash to touch me, to hold me, but accepting that touch was like a little bit of torture.

Not because I wanted to hurt him anymore. I didn’t. But I knew I couldn’t give him what he needed either. I was so damaged. I had nothing inside of me to give.

I felt the mattress shift, and though I desperately wanted him to stay in the room with me, I bit my tongue. I’d put him through hell, and I couldn’t say I blamed him for leaving. Deep down I’d expected this anyway.

In theory, loving something broken sounded easy enough. Love would heal all wounds, would make things better, would give the other person the strength to get up and dust themselves off and become whole again.

But that was shit.

Just a fairy tale we told ourselves to keep us strong enough to keep trying. The truth was loving something like me meant lots of sleepless nights, broken hearts, and eventually the reality that no matter how much you tried and what you did, it would never be enough to break through the damage that’d been done. And that was when our
saviors
left us to drown in our own misery. It wasn’t their fault, and it wasn’t our fault either.

Life was a cold-hearted, merciless bitch, and sometimes there wasn’t a happy ending.

But then I heard a sound I’d not heard in so long. The tuning of an acoustic guitar string. Gasping, I glanced up.

I’d noticed the polished guitar when we’d first walked into Cain’s room that night. For a moment, my fingers had itched to pick it up, but Ash had looked so tired that I’d ignored it and joined him in bed.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed now with his head bowed. Our cave was pitch black, but I could easily make him out.

His eyes were closed, and every cell in my body tensed up as I heard him sing to me for the first time.

Asher’s voice was low and throaty with the hint of a delicious burr behind it. The song was heartachingly lovely. The lyrics were ones I’d never heard before. The words wove a picture of a couple, one of them crying and broken and the other saying they’d never let go. How there were shadows, but I’d never be alone. Close my eyes, I’d be all right, nothing could hurt me, because we were safe and sound.

My throat tightened up as the crescendo rose and his strumming took on a more frantic pace.

Who was this man? Why would he do this for me? Why did he care so much? So big, so beautiful, so strong, and yet so vulnerable with me.

Luc had never shown me this, countless lovers down the centuries had never shown me this. When we’d first met, I could never have imagined that we’d be here someday, that I’d need him the way I did or that he’d need me right back.

I was so silent, afraid to breathe, to even move for fear that he’d stop. I’d never known Asher could sing, or that he could play. I never wanted this song to end, never wanted to wake up from this moment.

I wanted to freeze time, suspend us in it, and never leave there. We still had to face so many worries, so many problems, like the possibility of what was in that book.

Who Asher was really, and what decision I’d ultimately make. Would I give into this darkness or could the impossible happen? Could I overcome this evil? Was I strong enough?

In that moment, I wanted to be. I wanted to be everything for him. I wanted to make his sacrifice not be in vain. But more than anything, I wanted my priest to hold me.

My eyes shimmered when the final strain of the song hung suspended between us. He didn’t move, but I did.

It was time to make a choice. That’s what Grace had told me—that I could choose which path to take. I didn’t know what the final outcome of my story would be, but I was at a crossroads, and for tonight my path was clear.

I got up to my knees, crawled forward, and plucked the guitar from his lax hands.

Tonight I would be strong. Tonight I would believe that we were safe. That what existed outside these walls wasn’t for us, because it was just me and my Asher.

Tipping his chin up with the tip of my finger, I waited until his warm brown eyes looked at me.

I’d covered up completely when I’d exited the spring, so ashamed of my scars, of what they’d done to me. Grabbing hold of the hem of my shirt, I slid it off me and tossed it to the floor.

His breathing ratcheted up a notch, but he didn’t reach for me. Asher still slept in the nude, and I bit my bottom lip when I saw his cock spring to life.

I could do this.

I could.

Lust shuddered deep inside of me. For so long all she’d wanted was this man, only him. I’d never thought it was possible for a demon to love, but she did. She loved him as I did. Tonight wouldn’t be sex, because this was Ash. It would be so much more than something as base as that.

I got to my feet, yanked my sleeping pants off, and tossed those away too. My body trembled; my stomach was a twisted mess as I stood before him, completely bared.

I refused to look down at my feet as his eyes traced the hideous lines that would forever mark me. Tension breathed between us, an exquisite friction of mounting desire tempered by something deeper and fuller—something that’d been crafted by time and pain and learning that there could never be anyone for me but him.

Kneeling back down on the bed, my palms were slick as I grabbed his hand and tugged him to me. All of this I did silently, but we didn’t need words. We were so far beyond that—he knew me, really knew me. And I knew him.

He needed to know this was okay, I was okay. I could see it in the tightness of his shoulders and the way his jaw clenched. Even as I sensed his need, I felt his fear.

Fear that I’d reject him, that I’d turn him away as I had so many times already.

Lifting his hand, I rolled each finger down until only his pointer remained extended. The muscles in his chest trembled.

Pulling his hand toward me, I guided his finger to the worst of my scars. The one that ran from the base of my neck to the tip of my pubis.

“They cracked me open fifty-two times,” I whispered, and he shuddered, but he didn’t pull away.

Every muscle in my back clenched as he felt the mottled indentations of my flesh, of the skin that was now rough and smooth and stretched so tight that at times it was painful to even breathe.

“He held my heart in his hand five times.” I placed his palm flat against my chest. “Can you feel it beat?”

We breathed, and looked at one another. He said nothing, but his palm twitched when my heart lurched. I knew what he was thinking; I could read him like a book.

Asher had branded me, made me his. He’d claimed me, and someone else had held my heart in the palm of his hand. Asher’d failed me.

That’s what he thought.

But Asher had found me, and he was fighting like hell to bring me back. I shook my head. “It wasn’t your fault, Priest.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t move closer.

I didn’t know whether I was doing the right thing, but I knew if I didn’t tell him this tonight, then I’d never tell him, and just like with Luc, the chasm between us would grow so large that we’d never be able to find our way back to each other.

I dragged his palm across my left breast, moaning as the rough callouses scratched my peaked nipple. My skin instantly went awash with goose bumps, and Lust writhed inside me.

He didn’t make me frantic or manic; he wanted this to last, just as I did.

“They told me you were a lie, Ash. That nothing could ever love me. That I was unpure.”

“They lied,” he growled, and finally he took the lead. Pushing gently on my shoulder until I lay down, he settled on top of me.

His cock nestled between my thighs, and I closed my eyes. I’d have let him do anything he wanted to me that night.

It wasn’t easy for me to feel this exposed. Where once I’d reveled in my skin, I no longer felt so confidant. I called on Lust’s power to change, concealing the scars from his gaze, becoming the woman he remembered from before.

The one with smooth alabaster skin and a heart-shaped scar above her breast.

He shook his head and swished his fingers over my body as though it was nothing more than a mirage he could brush away. “You asked me once why you never change with me, little demon. Don’t start now. I loved you as you were then. I love you more as you are now.”

I sucked in a sharp breath at his words. “I don’t want you to see me and only see that, Ash. I think it would kill me.”

His lips were gentle as he softly pressed them to mine. “Change.”

I did, and though I still burned with shame, I was also relieved that even after all this Asher wanted me for who I truly was. I’d never been wanted like that before.

He started by leaning over and kissing the tip of the scar on my neck. But he didn’t stop there. He followed the trail all the way, slowly nipping and licking his way down.

I didn’t try to stop the tears from coursing down my cheeks. I shuddered into his touch, my body going languid and liquid in his arms as he touched and teased me. His fingers were firm and tender, running down my ribs, and he didn’t wince with disgust when he touched my flaws.

He worshipped them, worshipped me. There would be no rushing Ash tonight, and I was so glad. Tomorrow could wait; we had right now, and I wasn’t leaving him.

Dragging my fingers through his hair, I sighed as his mouth began to tease its way up my calf, my thigh, and then to the very center of me.

Lust and I purred as I wrapped my thighs around his back, writhing on the sheets as he devoured me with his tongue and lips. My body was a single nerve, and it was exposed—every flick, ever dip of his head made me cry out in agony and ecstasy.

“Come for me, little demon,” he whispered, breathing cool air against my warm center, and I moaned, rocking on him as he plunged his fingers deep inside me.

I was safe.

Safe with my priest.

A war raged outside our doors, and it was calling to us. I knew we couldn’t outrun it, but it was just him and me now, and I cried out his name, clawing at his back as I fractured into a thousand particles of bliss in his arms.

I laughed when I opened my eyes, feeling such joy and peace. So treasured.

He crawled back up to me and kissed me. I tasted myself on him as he slipped his tongue along the crease of my lips, gently coaxing me to open up. 

But I already had—all of me, it was his. Broken and bruised and shattered, but his touch told me he loved me anyway, wanted me anyway.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I ran my tongue along his, growling deep in my throat as my hunger grew. I didn’t think I’d ever get enough of Ash. I felt the hard press of his cock nudge my slick heat. I tilted my hips up.

“You’re so wet, so perfect, my little demon.” His fingers feathered along the top of my cheekbone.

“I’m only perfect to you, Priest.”

He nuzzled the side of my neck, and I couldn’t stop my moaning, my wiggling, my moving of our bodies together so that we could finally join, finally become one. After so long, we were here. We’d gone through hell and back and still we’d found each other.

“Isn’t that enough, Pandora?”

He looked me in the eyes, and I spiraled into his warm gaze. The eyes were the truest window of the soul, and when I read that journal, I would remember his eyes, the way they looked at me in this moment like there was nothing else in his world, nothing better, nothing greater than me. This was my priest, not whoever was in that book. I would fight like hell to remember that.

“Yes, Ash. It is enough.”

Then he sank into me, and I bit down on his shoulder from the pleasure that sang through my blood. Where before there’d been fire and fear, now there was this—us—and I felt it, the truth of who
us
was.

Asher and I were two opposing forces—magnets, meant to repel the other. He’d been sent to end me, I was built to end the world, and yet no matter what fate threw our way, we always found our way back to each other.