“That’s a weird question.” I squirm in his arms, uncomfortable with the direction this is going. “I’m not with you for your money.”
“I know that, but I’m proving to you that his words aren’t true. So, my sweet shifter, how much do you think I’m worth?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I can guess your salary. And I know your family is rich, so like. A lot?”
He raises his eyebrows and I wrinkle my nose.
“Half a million?”
“Higher.”
“A million?”
“Much higher.”
My eyes go round and threaten to pop out of my head. Okay, I knew he was wealthy, but more than a million I would not have guessed.
“I…” I shake my head. “I don’t think I want to know.”
“There. Exactly that. None of what that despicable man-child said is true, and I won’t have you considering any of it for one more second. I always want you to know that I know it’s not true, and I don’t share any of his very misinformed, frankly idiotic opinions.”
“It’s just that I can’t get his smell from his nose. It feels like he’s still on my skin even after washing over and over, and I can’t get his words out of my head.” My breath hitches and I close my eyes against the onslaught of memories again.
“I have an idea,” he says, squeezing my shoulder once. “I’ll be right back.”
Asher jumps off the bed, and I hear him rummaging around somewhere else in the house. He comes back with a big, oven safe bowl, a pitcher of water, matches, and a notebook and pen.
“Write down what he said, whatever you can’t get out of your head. Put it here instead. I won’t look if you don’t want me to, but then it’ll be out of your head and when you’re done, we’ll burn it.”
A genuine smile tilts my lips up and I lean forward, pressing them to his before taking the notebook and pen. I bend my head and write, letting each and every one of the vile, nasty, hurtful words fill the page until they’re all out of my brain and in front of me instead. When I’m done, I tear it from the notebook.
“Hold it over the bowl,” Asher says. He lights a match, then holds it to the bottom corner of the page.
I watch as the flames catch, as they eat up hiswords, erasing them from my life. When the flame nears my fingers, I drop the paper into the bowl, and soon all that’s left is ash.
Taking the bowl to the bathroom, Asher pours some of the water into it, then puts the lid on and sets it in the sink to cool.
“As for his smell and touch on you, would you stay with me tonight?” he asks, then quickly continues. “Not for sex, I don’t have any expectations, I only want to hold you. And I think, maybe, that would help you too?”
My shoulders slump in relief.
“Yes. Yes, please. I really want that.”
We brush our teeth together, me using a new brush he had in the cupboard, and I feel the weirdest sense of normal domesticity after an evening of absolute horror. It already feels like a lifetime ago, yet the marks still cover my body. Shaking my head, I refill my water glass and set it on the nightstand as I slip under the covers.
Asher tugs me against him, spooning behind me and cocooning me in warmth.
“Is it okay if I touch you? Kiss you? I don’t want anything more than that for tonight,” he says, and I nod, agreeing with his need for nonsexual intimacy right now.
My head rests on his biceps, and his hand slips under my shirt and presses to the bare skin of my stomach, holding me tight against him. His other brushes gently down my arm, my hip, my upper leg, then comes back up to wrap around between my breasts and squeeze me tightly into him. Our legs tangle together, and he presses chaste kisses to my shoulder, cheek, and hair. Seemingly everywhere he can reach in our current position.
I bask in the affection, letting it wash over me and breathing him in as I succumb to exhaustion and drift off to sleep.
34
THIS SHIFTER BITES TOO
RAYA
