18. Ashe

ASHE

Cassandra stands in front of the window, back to me. The early morning sunlight silhouettes and surrounds her in a warm light that belies the winter weather that’s settled in around the Barrows. I drink in the vision of her from where I lay in our bed, in our room at the clan house.

It’s been two weeks since that day at Aeternaphiel’s home. Two weeks since I risked losing her forever.

She’s wrapped herself in a thin robe, the sunlight revealing her figure through the material. My cock thickens at the innocent temptation she is. I’ve spent every moment since our return once more memorizing the curves of her waist, the slope of her neck, her pert ass, and the swell of her breasts.

Sometimes I still find myself gripped by the fear that she’ll be taken from me without warning. That I will go to take Cassandra in my arms and find Eris instead.

Each time that happens, Cassandra is there, banishing it with her sweet words and sweeter kisses.

I slip out of bed, not bothering to dress. She jumps when I slide my hands around her soft waist, pressing against her and dropping a kiss on her shoulder. “Where were you, mate?”

She laughs, a sound as beautiful as a creek babbling over rocks in the sunlight. Damn, having her back has turned me into as much of a romantic as Rhys typically is. She leans against me, her ass trapping my growing erection between us. The sigh that comes from her isn’t one of pleasure, though. I rest my head against hers, waiting for when she’s ready to speak.

“Is it strange that I worry about her?”

I don’t have to ask who she means. A part of me wants to respond immediately, to tell her that there’s no reason for her to concern herself about Eris anymore. But I give the question true consideration.

“No,” I say after a long moment, and squeeze her tighter to me. “Eris was a part of you for the majority of the time you’ve been alive. You’ve never fully explained the bargain, and she didn’t either, but I know she had to preserve your mind and soul. Which meant you were aware a lot of the times, right?”

She nods, the movement barely jostling me. “I knew the risks with summoning a demon. I wanted to make sure I survived, which meant getting her to swear to protect my health.” Cassandra pauses, her thoughts practically chugging aloud, so I wait her out. I can be patient. I’ve waited over a century and a half for a morning like this, so I cherish this moment.

“I wouldn’t say I was awake, most of the time,” she starts, her words not quite absolute. “When I try to recall memories of certain times, they’re hazy. I have a vague sense of them, but like I’m trying to recall a story someone told me. When she’d let me have control, either to preserve my mind or help the Nightshades, I remember those clearly.”

I press another kiss against her head. “See? It makes sense that you’re concerned about her. It’s as if a friend—well, maybe not a friend, of yours is gone now. You remember their stories and now they aren’t around, so you worry about them.”

Cassandra laughs, a little watery sound, before sniffing. “I think she was my friend, in the end,” she admits. She holds herself stiffly, as if waiting for my judgment. How can I judge her for something I have to admit I also felt?

“I think we were friends, too,” I reply quietly. Then louder, “Definitely a strange friendship, and not a healthy one at all. But, yeah, definitely friends. I started carrying around hair ties, because she’d always break hers by yanking too hard and she’d threaten to cut your hair off. Or if she was in a foul mood, I’d get Darcelle to make me a ridiculous coffee drink to shove into her hands.”

Warmth builds in my chest and I let out a soft laugh. “I’m convinced I saved a poor shifter’s life once by asking Eris if she wanted to go get her nails done. She’d been questioning the shifter for Ambrose, but over something petty. Eris decided her nails were more interesting than the terrified shifter.”

Cassandra laughs with me and the tension in her dissipates. “She was ridiculous, wasn’t she?” She shakes her head, still looking out the window across the Barrows with me. “I just wish I knew if she’s dead or not.”

I nod; there’s no other way to answer, not without sounding trite or apathetic. Instead, I change the topic.

“Get dressed,” I tell her and head towards the walk-in closet. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” she looks over her shoulder, her warm brown eyes meeting mine without a drop of sadness in them. Her inquiring touch trickles between our bond and I bare my teeth at her in admonishment, growling with empty threats.

“No trying to figure it out.” I skip over my tailored suits and pull on a pair of black boxer briefs then dark denim over them. I pull a burgundy tee off a hanger, the material luxurious despite being a casual piece of clothing. “Or I won’t show you for another month!”

“Beast!” Cassandra calls to me.

The shower turns on, so I finish dressing and shrug on a heavy gray jacket with a hood and head out into the main house.

As I descend the stairs, I can hear Ambrose and Eloise speaking in his office and Deidre trading barbs with Lan on the opposite side of the house than the kitchens. I head towards the kitchen; Josephine’s singing a calm litany only interrupted by firm directions to the two staff assisting her.

I push open one of the doors to enter Josephine’s domain and see I’m not the first one to seek her out this morning. Malachi leans up against one of the counters, a powdered beignet in one hand and a porcelain mug of coffee in the other. He raises the mug in question and when I nod, he sets his food down and pours me a fresh coffee.

I take it with thanks and settle in beside him. Josephine wastes no time in coming over, plate in hand, with freshly powdered chocolate beignets.

“I had a craving this morning,” Josephine says in lieu of a greeting as she offers me some.

I happily snake a few, shooting her a smile. “When you have cravings, we feast like kings. So please, never resist!”

She sets the plate between us males and pats my shoulder before returning to the center island where she and one of the vampires who work under her are marinating and seasoning venison.

“Heard from Rhys yet?” I ask Malachi and take a bite of the beignet. I groan in pleasure, earning an indulgent smile from Josephine.

Rhys had taken Ezra and gone dark. I suspect Ambrose and Kasar are aware of where they are, but they haven’t deemed it necessary for anyone else to know. If I had to guess, Ambrose is funding anything Ezra may need in Rhys’s attempts to bring him back to himself. Rhys struggled to forgive Ambrose for exiling Ezra, which is why he left so soon after Ezra disappeared.

I think all of us are feeling guilt over Ezra’s fate and the individual parts we played in it. I want to think Ambrose wouldn’t have sent Ezra away if he’d known the demon vampire would have landed in Aeternaphiel’s clutches. Except I know Ambrose too well, and I don’t envy his position as the king of vampires. He has the steel heart to make horrible choices for the betterment of the clan and the territory we control.

“Nope,” Malachi answers, staring down into his coffee mug for a long minute. “But that’s just like Rhys. Show up out of nowhere, cause a little chaos, then leave town before the dust has even settled.”

There’s an edge to his words, but one that’s been dulled with time and experience. It’s always been Rhys’s way, ever since the Nightshades took him and Ezra in. It’s why Ambrose lets him roam the country with a rock star persona, so long as he occasionally checks in and completes any assignments Ambrose may need.

“How are the guys recovering?” I ask, knowing the Rhys and Ezra topic will lead to nothing but frustration. “You said we didn’t lose any in the fight, but a few took some nasty bites?”

Malachi barks out a laugh, full of real humor. “Tommy-boy and Silas are absolute degenerates who are milking their supposed near-death experiences for all they’re worth. You’d think the two of them had lost both legs and an eye for how I’ve heard them going on, just to get the sympathy of a pretty woman at the bar.”

I snort, thinking about the two street soldiers. “But otherwise, everyone is whole?”

He nods, gesturing to his face. “I don’t even get a scar from the paw I took to the face. The rest of them are fine. I figure I’ll give them another week of commiserating before kicking their asses into gear. I’ve got too much shit going on with this restaurant to deal with bitching and moaning.”

Familiar footsteps tease my ears and I eat the last beignet in my hand. I wipe my hands on one of the kitchen towels, before sliding around the cooks and grabbing a glass container and lid. As I slide about a dozen of the chocolatey treats into it, I ask more about Malachi’s project. He’d never been interested in his own venture before, satisfied to let the Nightshades handle his money and grow his fortunes through investments.

He waves a hand, dismissing the question. “It’s fine, just a pain in the ass as every business is. There was a hiccup with the small batch brew from Tartarus Taps, but Cinder’s pulled through and it’ll get here before doors are ready to open.” Then he grins, one better suited to Casanova. “Though I am interviewing the burlesque dancers next week. And a dance producer to handle all of that.”

I huff a silent laugh through my nose, securing the lid on the container. Cassandra walks in, stealing my breath as our eyes meet. God, I’m so damn lucky this woman is my mate. Beautiful inside and out, I know I don’t deserve her, no matter what she says.

She’s slowly adjusting her wardrobe to modern fashions and I can’t help enjoying her. She’s opted for a brown, scoop-neck, long-sleeve sweater paired with wide-legged pants in a deep green, and her new favorite brown heeled boots. She’s only pulled back the front of her hair in a clip, leaving the rest of her hair to drape down over her shoulders.

I move to her, drawn in like a moth willing to burn in her flame. I capture her waist in my hands, tugging her close before dropping a kiss onto her smiling lips.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are today?” I ask and she gives me a stern look.

“Not yet, I’m afraid,” Cassandra teases and Malachi laughs at our antics. She sends him a glare without heat. “One day, you’ll have a mate and you’ll be the sappiest of them all. You’re the one who watches all of those romance reality TV shows.”

“Nah.” Malachi pushes off the counter and swipes up another beignet from the plate. “I watch those shows specifically as a reminder of how awful relationships are. Any woman I’m with is after the same thing I am and there are never any hard feelings the next day as we go our separate ways. Speaking of separate ways, I’m off. I’ve got profiles—I mean resumes to go through for potential dancers.”

I roll my eyes but give him a tilt of the head as he leaves. I turn back to Cassandra, pressing the container of beignets into her hands. “Ready for your surprise?”