“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat, “soft.”
With that, the short grey fur pulls back into my skin, and I’m left with his fingers circling my elbow. He lets them traildown my forearm to my wrist, leaving sparks and goosebumps in their wake as he pulls away, his eyes fixed on mine.
My breath stalls, a different tingle flickering over me. I break eye contact and look away.
What in the world?
I’ve never let anyone touch me like that before, not when I’m shifted. And even though physical touch is a necessity for shifters, it’s normally comforting. Not… Whatever that was, making me all hot and bothered in the most irritating way.
Grabbing a couple pillows and the extra blanket, I stalk away from the bed and start to create a little nest on the floor.
“Absolutely not.” His voice is harsh and full of command, all traces of the softer man from minutes ago are gone.
There’s the asshole attitude I know and loath.
“Excuse me?” My defenses are back in place, and when I look up at the man glowering over me, my spine stiffens at the threat I sense in his stance.
“You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
I scoff. “You can drop the nice act, Mr. Walton," I say. “It’s just us now, you don’t have to pretend anymore.”
My brows draw together as what might be hurt flashes across his face, but what does he expect from me? I can sleep on the floor same as he can.
“That’s not my name.”
It takes me a second to catch up, not expecting him to address that part of my statement.
“What do you mean that’s not your name?” I say, my tone icy.
“I had it legally changed years ago. My name is Asher Sullivan.” His tone is equally frosty, and his words put a crack in my defenses.
“You… what?”
Asher grabs the pillows and blankets from me, then snags a couple more from the closet and lays them out on the floorat the foot of the bed, not answering me as he lays down with a quiet huff. I’m left standing in the middle of the room, thoughts racing circles around the inside of my head. I can’t help wondering who he is, why he changed his name, what could cause someone to do that and whether it has anything to do with why he hasn’t been photographed with his family in years.
“Asher? What did you mean you changed your name?”
He continues to ignore me and rolls over so all I can see is the broad expanse of his back.
Giving up on it for now, I quietly walk back to the bed and climb in, lying stiffly on my back, arms straight at my sides. I do my best to lie still, not wanting to bother Asher more than I clearly already have, but I can’t sleep. I feel guilty, like I made a grave error, and I don’t know how to fix it.
I toss and turn for what feels like hours before I whisper into the dark, silent room. “I’m sorry. Can we start over?”
No answer.
I roll over again, sensing that he’s not sleeping either, although he lies still as stone at the foot of the bed.
“I may be the world’s most broken shifter, but my ears work just fine. I know you’re not sleeping," I say, my voice soft and carrying more hurt than I intend it to.
He rolls over with a sigh, then mutters, “I’m trying to.”
I purse my lips as more fur sprouts out along my upper arms and back. It feels more coarse this time. Dense and bristly, it’s not at all comfortable to lay on, so I roll to my stomach as he speaks again, so quietly I almost miss it.
“And you’re not broken.”
I huff.What is his deal?This man is so confusing. Before I can reply, he interrupts my thoughts.
“Go to sleep, Raya.”
