3. Ashe

ASHE

I’m avoiding my wife.

The hot water is near scalding as I stand under the rainfall shower head in the middle of a restored clawfoot iron tub. I have expensive taste when it comes to modern transportations, but when it comes to my private sanctuary, I crave the familiarity of ages past. Though once I experienced a rainfall shower head for the first time, I knew I could compromise to a degree.

Each of our suites in the Nightshade clan house are nearly identical when it comes to layout, but otherwise our rooms reflect our natures.

Unable to procrastinate any longer, I step out of the massive tub that’s the centerpiece of the bathroom. A thick, square rug saves my feet from the cold slate tiles, and I snag the towel from the brass hanger, quickly drying myself before wrapping the towel around my waist. I pause, taking in the bathroom, unable to stop myself from wondering what Cassandra will think of it.

The sink mimics a bowl and ewer, set in dark cherrywood cabinets that stretch along one side. The walls are whitewashed—boring even. The only touch of color is the bouquet of dried wildflowers in a brown bottle vase tucked in the corner on the sink counter. I don’t need to see my bedroom to know it’s just as empty and void of much personality.

Like it’s still waiting to be lived in.

I shake my head free of the thoughts and cock my head, extending my senses to see if Cassandra is still in the bedroom. I’d heard Josephine return while I showered, and it seems Cassandra left with her. She was always astute, knowing me better than I knew myself at times.

I’ve imagined a day like this countless times over the last century and a half. I thought of how it would feel to finally capture Cassandra, my Cassandra, in my arms and know that she won’t be stolen from me again without warning. How I’d kiss her until we couldn’t breathe, touch her until we were delirious with pleasure and need. How I’d claim her as my own once again even as I gave myself to her.

I never imagined how fucking furious I’d be.

Breathing through my nose, I swallow the anger down and re-enter the bedroom, forcing myself to get dressed by rote. It’s torture to have her scent so strong in my rooms, taunting me.

A large king-sized four-poster bed dominates the center of my room. The bedspread, that’s been remade neatly, is a rich chocolate brown, with several pillows arranged on it, and the frame a light mahogany. The room is masculine, with the color palette consisting of varying shades of brown and creams with accents of mahogany. Heavy cream-colored curtains are pulled back to reveal windows that span the length of the wall and overlook Ambrose’s narrow gardens below.

A collection of old, handwoven rugs in faded various colors cover the hardwood floors. They are some of the only things I saved from our cottage after the attack. I think of Josephine returning with one of Cassandra’s charmed sachets as I shrug on my black Armani suit jacket, shaking my head. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who saved things from Cassandra’s and my old home.

I hadn’t lied when I said I have duties to attend to for Ambrose today. I’m to oversee the retrieval and delivery of Rapture confiscated by the Knights of Hades. It’s the final missing shipment after what the Hollands had stolen and began distributing. They’d bring it right to the door, but after the near war with demons decades ago, the truce prohibits them from entering the Barrows.

I make my way to his home office, pausing at the end of the hall as I pick up on enough heartbeats to know he isn’t alone. I recognize each one of them. Eloise and Cassandra are in there with him.

Whatever I’m wrestling with about my wife can wait. I make sure my end of our mate bond is sealed just as tightly as when Eris first took possession of her. I can’t bear the thought of Cassandra experiencing an onslaught of my confused emotions.

No matter what, I still love her with all of my being. I would—have killed for her, over and over. I’ll kill again, if I need to. I’ll die if that’s what it takes to keep her safe.

Even if I want to rage at her for the pain of what she did to me.

Even if the sting of her betrayal has returned, as sharp and agonizing as the moment I realized what she’d done.

Cassandra’s voice carries through the closed door to my ears, and I freeze, my hand nearly on the doorknob.

“I’ll remind you, Ambrose.” Cassandra emphasizes his name. “That I’m a witch, and am as such not bound by your decrees. That I am Ashe’s mate does not make me one of your vampires.”

I hold my breath, bracing for the vampire’s response. It’d taken time for Cassandra and Ambrose to settle into an amicable association. I wouldn’t say the witch and vampire had ever become friends, not with our kind’s tumultuous history. The fact that Cassandra is bullheaded and rebellious while Ambrose is not used to people questioning his authority certainly doesn’t help.

“Yet, because you are his mate, you have had the protection of my vampires since the day you accepted him,” he replies steadily. “Even while Eris betrayed your mate. Even after you betrayed your mate. We’ve kept you protected as well as Eris would allow.”

His words are barbed and meant to strike. I fight my instincts which demand I charge in, fangs bared, to protect my mate. Neither would take kindly to that. Ambrose no doubt knows that I am outside the door, but Cassandra and Eloise don’t have our heightened senses. And with our mate bond closed off, Cassandra can’t sense how close I am to her.

Cassandra is quiet for long enough I reach for the knob. I know my sire’s words have done the damage he intended, and I can’t fight my need to go to her. How many times over the years during our stolen moments has she apologized to me? Too many.

I ease the door open, but only Eloise looks towards me. She’s standing at Ambrose’s side behind the massive, centuries-old desk that he’s towed across the globe as the clan moved. Ambrose’s and Cassandra’s gazes are locked on one another, staring each other down. Cassandra’s body is lined with tension, even as she tries to hide it. I know her too well not to see the signs of her turmoil.

Since I left her in my bed, she’d changed out of the nightgown I’d dressed her in with Josephine’s assistance the night before. She’s wearing a dove gray, high-waisted skirt that reaches just above the floor that I recognize from Josephine’s wardrobe. A long-sleeved, wine-colored blouse, most likely borrowed from Deidre, is tucked into the skirt. The mock high-neck collar is loosely tied closed above a modest V-neck trimmed in lace, a short line of small buttons end just above the skirt.

Together, along with the simple black flats I spy, the outfit is a modern version of what she wore when we first married.

It’s also a stark difference to what Eloise wears, a woman born into the modern fashions of comfort.

When she lifts her chin a fraction, a pride I haven’t felt in ages has my lips twitching upwards. She’s never bowed to anyone since she left her family’s coven. I slip into the study the rest of the way, silently closing the door behind me and standing just in front of it.

“I recognize that, Ambrose.” Her voice is steady, even if her hand twitches as if she wants to clench a fist. “I would hope that you also recognize the service Eris provided and continues to provide the Nightshades. In addition, I remind you of the times you needed my assistance and Eris allowed me to provide it as necessary.”

Ambrose is silent for one heartbeat, and then another. Then Eloise makes an exasperated sound beside him, drawing all our attention as she throws her hands up.

“For fuck’s sake, Ambrose,” she admonishes him with a glare and a poke. “What’s with the third degree? Whatever happened to, ‘Welcome home, Cassandra, we’ve missed you, especially your mate?’”

A chagrined expression flashes across Ambrose’s face, much to Cassandra’s obvious surprise. They both compose themselves, and Cassandra finally gives me a quick, tiniest of smiles before looking back at him. The other vampire captures Eloise’s flailing hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the center of her palm. “You are right, my lioness,” he says before turning her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. He returns his gaze to my mate and nods.

“Despite my tone, your return is very welcome, Cassandra,” Ambrose says, his tone warmer than I’d ever heard before. “I agree that you must determine what Aeternaphiel did to Eris and how to fix it. You have the full support of the Nightshades behind you. Whatever you need for your research, you’ll have it. Josephine would allow no less.” He gives a sidelong glance at his mate, his lips curling up into a smirk. “Nor, would it seem, will my mate and queen.”

He looks at me, his golden eyes seeming to pierce through me and read every secret I have. He inclines his head towards Cassandra, indicating that I join her at her side. I stand closer than I ever did with Eris, but the gap between us isn’t missed by either the king or Eloise. While he gives no indication of his thoughts, Eloise frowns. She gives me a questioning look, tilting her head enough that the messy bun of her black hair threatens to topple and spill the few pencils she’s stuffed in there.

I give her the slightest shake of my head, not wanting to deal with it right now; she gives me a look that promises an interrogation later. We’ve come a long way since I first delivered her to Ambrose from the small studio she and Deidre once shared. Typically, I consider myself fortunate to count Eloise as a friend. Now, though, I’m wondering how I can avoid her as well as Cassandra.

“Do you need a workspace to determine what is draining you and Eris, or will her lab in the Rapture facility work?”

My head snaps to Cassandra. What the hell does that mean? She gives me a pained glance before clasping her hands together, bobbing her head as if between two thoughts. “I believe it will be if I have all the materials I may need. Josephine says she saved much of my tools from the cottage. Regardless, I will need to visit Darcelle at the coffee shop. If they don’t have the books and grimoires I need, I will simply have to do my best.”

“Are there any other covens that could help?” Eloise asks, earnest in her sincerity. “You’re a witch, so don’t you have a family coven?”

I jerk, fighting the instinct to wrap an arm around Cassandra at the mention of her family’s coven. Cassandra, to her credit, gives her a soft smile and a small shake of her head. “My family coven has burned me from the family tree. Long before I mated and married a vampire.”

“Oh.” Eloise’s mouth snaps closed and she shifts, clearly feeling awkward at bringing up unknown familial drama. “Well...”

I take pity on her and interrupt. “I’ll take Cassandra to Darcelle’s before my rendezvous with the Knights. The witch is fond of Eris, so I believe that they’ll be eager to help.”

Ambrose gives a commanding nod, a familiar dismissal. I grasp Cassandra above the elbow, keeping my touch light but insistent as I turn to guide us from the office. She follows after a brief resistance and the moment she does, I release her. We leave in silence, the house quiet enough that sounds of the Barrows filter in through the windows Josephine must have opened.

“Ashe—” Cassandra starts, her soft voice piercing my heart more painfully than any blade or bullet.

I swipe my hand through the air, cutting her off with a grunt. “Not here.” I have no desire for any of the others to overhear whatever it is Cassandra is going to say. I stride towards the door that leads to the underground garage. The Jaguar is out of commission after the chase with Aeternaphiel, so I debate which vehicle in my collection to take. While a large portion of the vehicles parked in the garage are a part of the Nightshades’ fleet, there are five I own personally.

As I push the heavy door open, the click of the door echoing in the silent concrete of the garage, I decide on my gold Mercedes-Benz GLC. I’ve reinforced the SUV’s frame, replaced the windows with the highest grade of bullet-proof glass, coated the interior of the body with polymer before lining it with three layers of ballistic nylon, and installed military grade tires. To be fair, I’ve done the same to every vehicle the Nightshade vampires use as a clan. Kasar, Malachi, and Lan have done their own personalizations to their vehicles, as has Ambrose.

I detour to the metal cabinets and shelves that run along the left side of the wall with the entrance. Motion-activated lights under the cabinets turn on and I press my thumb to the biometric scanner which secures the key vault. It’s impossible to ignore the weight of Cassandra’s silent present behind me, but I push past the warring emotions vying for my attention.

The metal mesh door to the key vault pops open and I snatch the appropriate key from the hook before relocking the vault. I jerk my head towards the gold SUV, remote starting it from the key fob. Cassandra startles, a small meep escaping her, and I turn to her before I can stop myself.

She looks chagrined and my heart is racing as I look for any threat, before realizing it was the SUV that startled her.

“Not used to this century’s technology,” she says, before seeming to steel herself to approach the SUV.

I snort, amused despite myself. “It’s a car, not a wild animal.”

Cassandra scowls at me before pointedly marching towards it, her spine rod straight. I smirk at her all-too familiar ire. The easiest way to get my wife to do anything was to annoy her. She can—and has—outstubborn and outspite Ambrose himself.

By habit, I follow her, picking up my pace until I reach the passenger door and open it for her. When she hesitates at the side of the tall vehicle, I offer her my hand. Just as I’d done so many times back in Willow Creek. She takes it without thought and gathers her skirt in her other hand before stepping up and settling into the front passenger seat. At least she recalls enough from Eris’s experiences that she’s able to figure out the seat belt by the time I’m in the driver’s seat.

She’s quiet as we drive away from the clan house and deeper into the Barrows. I practically hear the thoughts churning in her head. I’m impressed she’s held her tongue this long. Cassandra isn’t known for withholding her opinion, especially with me.

I take pity on her when we’re halfway to Black Death Beanery, Darcelle’s coffee shop.

“What did you mean when you said something is draining you and Eris?” I ask, my voice tightening with emotion by the end. By the time I finish, I can’t fight the terror that’s climbing around my ribs like a briar bush.

The silence between us grows thicker and darkness begins to yawn in my stomach, filling me with dread. When we come to a stoplight, I turn to look at her. She meets my gaze, sorrow and guilt filling her beautiful eyes. I want to reach out and swear I’ll protect her no matter what, but I failed her when it mattered most. Because of that, she sacrificed herself to a demon.

“Whatever Aeternaphiel did to Eris,” Cassandra says, her voice wavering. She swallows and continues. “Eris is dying. Which means I am too.”