I bet you’re wet right now thinking about his inheritance. Well, sorry to tell you slut, but he’s nothing and neither are you.
The memory of his nose and mouth on my neck sends a shudder of revulsion down my spine.
You’re weak, worthless, and I’ll prove it.
I want to slam my fist into him again, and I also want to cry. I can’t help but wonder why I didn’t shift. It normally comes when I’m feeling strong emotions, and I’ve never been more scared in my entire life, yet there were no tingles, and the thought to reach for my animal never even crossed my mind.
It’s like I was frozen by fear, mind and body, and I hate it. I hate that he’s right, that I was weak and unable to defend myself.
I tug the jacket tighter around my body, pulling in Asher’scomforting, cedar-smoke scent. I try to remind myself I’m safe now, but every time I move, the smell of his cousin seeps back into my nose. I need to get it off my skin.
Thirty minutes later, Asher pulls up to his house and leaps out of the driver’s seat. Opening the back door, he pauses, eyes trailing over my face.
“Are you,” he pauses, finding the right words. “Can I carry you?”
I nod, grateful for his help, and unsure if I can stand on my own. Not to mention, I have no idea where my shoes are. I didn’t even notice until now that I wasn’t wearing them, and the temperature dropped significantly after the sun went down.
Asher’s strong arms loop under my knees and around my back, and he carefully lifts me out of the car. I hold his jacket tight as he turns and knees the door shut, then strides up to his front door.
“Put your feet on mine,” he instructs.
As he eases my legs down, my toes find the tops of his shoes, but he doesn’t fully let go. His other arm is still clasped around my waist, taking most of my weight as he unlocks the door. Scooping me back up, he walks inside and pushes the door closed with his foot, then heads straight to his bedroom.
My mind has pretty much turned off at this point. It feels like I’m observing everything from outside my body. I feel no pain, have no cares or worries, and hardly process anything happening around me.
Asher sets me on the bathroom counter, then turns on the tap for the beautiful tub I admired the first time I was here. That seems like a lifetime ago now, even though it was only a few weeks.
“Do you want help getting in?” Asher is in front of me again, and I hear his words, but don’t know how to respond.
Do I?
I must have shrugged or nodded, because he pulls me off the counter, steadying me as my weight lands on my feet, then gently tugs his jacket and the remains of my dress from my body.
I step into the tub with his help, and he sets a washcloth and soap next to me as I settle into the water. My aching muscles instantly start to loosen and I sigh in relief, beginning to come back to myself already.
Asher turns away and walks out the door. When he starts to pull it closed on his way out, my panic comes screaming back. I don’t want to be alone, even here, where logically I know I’m safe.
“No.” I think I murmur it, but he somehow hears and leans back in, a look of concern on his face.
“Raya?”
“I don’t want to be alone,” I whisper.
His eyes soften and he comes back in, closing the door behind him. Asher folds a towel and sets it next to the tub, then sits down on it, facing me.
“Do you want help washing?”
I nod, and my eyes turn glassy again.
“I can still smell him. Feel him.”
Asher’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking rhythmically, but his hands are gentle when he soaps up the washcloth and brings it to my skin.
“Show me everywhere he touched you, so I can wash it off.”
I point to my throat, and he leaves trails of soap suds across my neck and shoulders as the cloth drags over my skin, erasing the scent and feel of Chadwick. He cups water in his hands and uses his own skin to wash the suds away, leaving his scent on me instead.
“Where else?”
