Asher tightens his hold on my hair, securing my baredneck, then angles the arm across my chest so he can pinch my nipple, and that does it. My back arches, my entire body stiffens almost to the point of pain, and my pussy clenches so hard Asher can barely move inside me. He rolls my nipple and takes one last, perfectly timed pull from my neck, and my insides pulse with my orgasm.
I writhe in his arms, rapturous as pleasure sears through me, and he groans into my shoulder with his own release. From my neck to my nipple to my clit to my pussy, pulse after pulse of ecstasy races through my body until I’m spent.
I fall limp in his arms, not noticing that he’s already healed my neck as I float in waves of bliss. I barely comprehend as he adjusts our positions so I’m lying on top of him with my ear to his chest, his cheek resting on top of my head, and his arms banded securely around me. Asher cradles me against him and I sigh in contentment, a serene smile gracing my lips when he places a gentle kiss on the top of my head.
I’m asleep before he has us fully tucked under the blankets.
42
BAD BLOOD
RAYA
Tuesday morning dawnsfar too early. I stretch and roll over in bed, taking stock of my aching muscles, and smiling when I find I’m deliciously sore in other areas. Asher is already awake, though it seems he resents it if the grumbling groan he releases at my movement is any indication. He slings an arm around my waist and rolls me onto my side, then pulls my back flush against his chest and nuzzles his nose into the hair at the base of my neck.
Neither of our alarms have gone off yet, so I snuggle into him, letting his warmth and cedar-smoke scent surround and lull me into that sweet, quiet place between wake and sleep until we’re forced to get ready for the day.
Asher and I putter around the kitchen, him grabbing a fresh bottle of blood while I pop a bagel in the toaster, maneuvering around each other with ease as Reverie sleeps in.
He’s a little more distant this morning, more quiet and subdued than is usual even for his admittedly broody personality. I give him his space, taking the time to reflect on things myself as well. He said everything would be handled with his family by the end of the week, and I’m doing my best to putmy faith and trust in him despite being kept in the dark. It rankles me a little to be excluded like this, but at the same time there’s not anything I can do.
I have no power or control in this situation, nor do I have the resources or connections he might be able to tap into. I try not to let my mind spin with possibilities, and aim to stay in the present moment instead.
Asher drops me off at work again and I use the side entrance, eyeing the people bustling about and preparing the outdoor space for the live press conference. I get to my desk right before 9:00 am, so I have only about an hour to work on my current slide deck before Alex starts the live stream on their monitor, and Kendall and I pull our chairs up to watch together.
The Waltons step to the podium that’s been set up at the top of the steps, Claude taking center as Estelle settles to his right. Chadwick steps up next, standing to Claude’s left, his arrogant posture and sickening smile make me cringe.
But none of that compares to how my body reacts when Asher steps into the frame.
I blink hard, trying to clear the image, but it doesn’t change and my brain can’t make sense of it. Asher strides up the steps, and my heart stalls in my chest, struggling for the next beat. He nods to his parents and my airway constricts, my lungs freeze. He stands tall and straight, shoulders thrown back and hands clasped behind his back right next to his mother, and prickles flinch along my skin, up and down my arms as ice slides down my spine.
This can’t be happening. How is he there with them?
Alex and Kendall are staring at me, and I stare back. Kendall shrugs and turns back to the screen, prompting Alex to do the same. I pull my phone out, but my hands are shaking and I can barely touch the correct icons as my mind spins out one disastrous scenario after the other.
Has he agreed to whatever terms they set out for him? Asher has told me about a few of the horrors his parents unleashed on him as a child, and I have no doubt he only shared the least abusive ones. Is he rejoining them now? There’s no way he would do so willingly. They must have something on him. What have they done to convince him to stand up there, next to them, in support of them? And worst of all, what does that mean for his future?
I squeeze my hands into fists, then shake them out, willing my trembling fingers to steady as I click into our messages. I dial Asher, but he doesn’t pick up, and my heart sinks with worry. My eyes are locked on him through the screen, and he doesn’t so much as twitch as his phone rings and rings in my ear.
I hang up at his voicemail and send him a text instead. All I can think to ask is “what are you doing?” but again, he doesn’t respond. Part of my brain knows his phone is on silent, that it’s likely there in his pocket and he has no idea I’m trying to contact him, but the weight of betrayal still sinks down on me.
He can’t be doing this.
Belatedly, I realize that confused, hushed chatter has broken out across the open workspace. Everyone seems to be wondering the same thing as me, and muted voices whisper questions back and forth. What? How? Why? Is this good or bad? After Asher’s extended absence from work and the rumors that have been swirling, everyone is now wondering what he’s doing there with the family he seemed to have cut ties with.
As I look closer, I see his mom is preening, her eyes glinting in the light and her mouth a tight smile, like she’s trying to hold in a victorious smirk. The worry gnaws at my insides, a ravenous beast threatening to devour me. Asher’sdad is standing straight and proud, tapping one finger on the podium absently as he eyes Asher standing next to them.
Chadwick, on the other hand, looks absolutely livid. He’s outright glaring at Asher, having leaned forward to eye him around Claude and Estelle. Asher pays none of them any notice, ignoring everyone and maintaining a calm facade as he stands tall in his place.
Claude begins speaking, welcoming the reporters and requesting that they hold all questions to the end. I tune him out, unable to do anything other than stare at Asher, but Claude’s speech is short-lived. He steps back and to the side after only a few minutes, and Estelle takes her turn in front of him at the podium. She says her piece, and we’re more than halfway through the allotted time now, when her speech draws to a close and Asher reaches out with one hand, briefly making contact with her upper arm.
My heart thumps a leaden beat in my chest. Estelle angles her head and leans toward him, listening as Asher whispers in her ear, then nods and steps to the side with a smile.
That smile skewers me. My walls are crumbling, and the pretty visions of a future together are flashing to death before my eyes.
Asher steps up to the podium, and the silence on the screen as well as in the office is pointed, anticipatory. Chadwick twitches, clearly trying to restrain himself, and then Asher tips his chin up. He flicks his fingers to either side before gripping the podium, then begins speaking.
“Thank you all for coming,” he says, and his voice drills a hole through my chest. “I have some news to share that it appears Claude and Estelle here are not yet aware of.”
