Anita’s POV
I stood
in the center of one of Asher’s chambers, what appeared to be his living
room. I
crossed
my arms, as Asher circled around me, slowly, inspecting me. The silence
in the room
was
deafening, and the tension was scary. Asher finally stopped before me,
looking down at me
from
his height of 6 feet. “I can taste your fear, Anita. How delicious, the
Executioner afraid of
me.”
My heart thumped in my chest from the glare he gave me. He tossed his hair
to reveal the
holy
water scars on the right side of his face. “See what your master did to
me, Anita? Be afraid
of
my monsterdom.”
I sighed.
Asher was like a kid who had been slapped around too much. Words can be
just
as
hurtful as physical violence, and from what I knew of the council, I was
sure he got his share
of
mental abusings. But how to tame a surly golden lion? I’m not sure, I never
read that book.
“I’m
not afraid of the scars, Asher. Its your hate that scares me.” Asher tossed
his head so the
scars
were hidden once again. I reached up slowly to touch his hair. When he
didn’t pull back I
pushed
it behind his ear to reveal his face again. “But you are beautiful, Asher.”
Asher
grabbed my wrist, a wild bewildered look on his face. “How can you say
that? I
AM
a monster! Jean-Claude made me a monster!”
“Men
long dead did this to you, Asher, but your hate is the only thing making
you a
monster.
Hate makes us all something ugly.”
Asher
released my wrist, and began unbuttoning his shirt with jerky, violent
movements. I
watched,
with eyes widened, for the first time in my life holding in a sarcastic
remark. He
grabbed
my hand again, pressing it against the scarred side of his chest. A sudden
memory hit
me.
Asher, in his unscarred glorious form, flashed before my eyes. His chest
was smooth and
pale
from all sides, his face devastatingly handsome. Then as fast as the memory
had come, it left
me.
Asher searched my face for the reaction he sought, but didn’t find it.
“Why do I not see in
your
eyes the disgust that has haunted me for centuries, in the eyes of others?”
I stared up at
Asher,
when something close to shock passed over his face. “You remember. Through
Jean-Claude,
you remember.” Then he frowned, fiercely. “Oh no, Jean-Claude will not
steal my
revenge.”
He
jerked me against him, Asher kissed me roughly, so that I either had to
open my mouth
or
be sliced to ribbons by his fangs. I responded with more than open arms,
sliding my tongue
between
his fangs slowly, hoping he wouldn’t bite me. The kiss softened, Asher’s
hands slowly
teasing
up my shirt, responding to the tenderness of the kiss involuntarily. He
jerked away again,
a
look of pure astonishment on his face. I leaned into him, balancing on
my tiptoes, hands on his
chest.
I kissed the scarred side of his cheek. “Jean-Claude did his best to save
Julianna, Asher.
He
traveled as fast as he could. Let go of your hate, Asher, and some of the
pain will go with it,”
I
whispered in his ear.
Suddenly
Asher’s arms wrapped around me, crushing me to him in a powerful embrace.
A
fine
tremor ran through his body. Asher let out a long sigh. He leaned back
so we were looking
eye
to eye with each other. A single pink tinged tear ran down his cheek. The
ice blue captivated
me.
“Anita, I cannot forgive all, nor let go so fast.” I opened my mouth to
say something, but he
silenced
me with a finger on my lips. “But I have seen something in your eyes, that
no woman has
given
me in nearly four centuries. For this I will help you survive the next
few days in this hellish
place.”
“If its so hellish, then why do you stay?”
Asher
shrugged. “Where else would I go? I see disgust in everyone’s eyes, no
matter
where
I am.”
“Then come back to St. Louis with us, Asher.”
“I think Jean-Claude would no longer enjoy my company, cherie.”
I took
Asher’s hands in mine, lacing our fingers together. I hadn’t known this
vampire for
even
an hour, but I felt like I had known him for centuries, through Jean-Claude.
“Jean-Claude
would
be delighted to have you back, Asher. Truly.”
Asher
blinked indifferently, masking his emotions. Finally he answered, “We shall
see.” Ah,
the
favorite phrase of Louis XIV. “But I believe the main goal is to keep you
alive until
Jean-Claude
can arrive. He’s knows you are here?”
“Yes.”
“Then
all there is left to do is to wait. If he cares for you as much as I think,
he should be
here
very soon.”
“Wait for Jean-Claude, wait for Amador. I’m going to kill him.”
“Jean-Claude?”
“No, Amador. If he tries to take me away again…I won’t go.”
“Many have said such,” said Asher wistfully.
“Yeah, well many isn’t me.”
“Very true.”
Asher
led me to his bedroom. “You may have the bed, cherie. I will retire to
my coffin.”
He
kissed me on the forehead, then turned to exit the room. I reached out
to him, touching his
back.
Asher froze.
“Stay with me, Asher. I don’t want to kick you out of your own bed.”
Asher
turned to look at me, his hair covering the scarred side of his face. “I
am afraid, that
come
morning, you would find something less than desirable to share a bed with.”
Taking
his hand, I turned his body to face me. “Asher, I’m a vampire slayer. I
know what
happens
to you come sunrise. It’s alright.” I started to back up towards the bed,
pulling him with
me.
“Please? Stay with me?”
Asher allowed himself to be led to the edge of the bed, but then stopped. “Anita, I—”
I stood
on tiptoe, gently kissing him. I ran my fingers through his hair, enjoying
the golden
silky
texture. Asher leaned into me, deepening the kiss, and I didn’t object.
Asher nudged me a
half
a step back so the backs of my knees hit the bed, forcing me to fall on
the bed. Asher leaned
over
me. “As you wish, Anita.” The insecurity had left him, leaving a more confident
Asher.
Something
told me this part of him had not shown its self for a very long time. He
sat down on
the
bed next to me and removed his boots. I followed suit, removing my tennis
shoes. Asher laid
back
on the side of the bed closest to the door. I crawled up to him. “You are
in my spot,” I said
with
a smile.
“I
think not,” Asher answered confidently. I laid down next to him, resting
my head on his
shoulder.
Asher took my hand that rested on his chest, kissing my palm. “Anita, know
that this
night
you have healed something inside of me, that has been a great wound for
centuries.”
I sat
up on my elbows to peer down at Asher. Kissing his forehead lightly, I
said, “You are
beautiful,
Asher. If one fails to see it, then they are a fool.”
Another
pink tear ran down his cheek. I kissed it away. In his eyes I saw such
need, such
raw
pain. I wanted to take it all away, to rock him in my arms and console
him. And I knew only
part
of this was my emotion, but much of it Jean-Claude’s. I kissed Asher again,
parting his lips
with
my tongue. He made an inarticulate sound deep in his throat, almost a growl.
I felt his hands
travel
slowly up my shirt once again. How long had it been since anyone had touched
him? Since
he
had touched anyone? Could it truly have been centuries? Asher stopped his
hands just below
my
bra, realizing where his roving touch had led. He pulled back to look at
me, the uncertainty in
his
eyes once more. I leaned back to slide the polo shirt over my head. I had
been wearing it for
too
long anyway. How long had it been? Two days? Three? I wasn’t even sure.
Asher
stared at my nearly bare torso, glancing back and forth from my face to
my body,
not
sure where to fix his gaze. I took his hands, gliding them up my ribcage
encouragingly. Asher
rolled
us so he was leaning over me. His lips ran in a silken line down my jaw,
my neck, then my
collar
bone. He rubbed his cheek across my chest like a cat, chuckling. “What?”
I asked,
bewildered.
Asher
smiled, running a curl of my black hair through his fingers. “I can smell
Jean-Claude’s
skin on yours, and it makes me glad.”
Jean-Claude’s POV
I stared
up at the lid of my coffin. Dawn would come soon, taking me to slumber.
We were
driving
to the south of France, making our way to the council chambers in the daytime.
I reached
out
to Anita, she was asleep, and I was startled to find her in a familiar
embrace. That milky pale
skin
I knew so well, strong arms wrapped around her, his half scarred chest
pressing against
Anita’s
almost bare back. How she had ended up in Asher’s arms, safe, I did not
know. Anita is
capable
of anything, even taming Asher’s rage. I reached up with Anita’s hand,
caressing one
sculpted
muscled arm of mon chardonneret, enjoying the feel of his soft skin, a
touch I had not
known
for centuries. I closed my eyes as a tear ran down my cheek.