He tasted like life, wild and defiant, and it shattered something inside me.
I drank just enough to weaken the ties to his mortal shell, just enough to bring him to the edge of death’s abyss.
My heart hammered in my chest, terror and hope colliding violently. I pulled back, my lips stained with his blood, and bit into my own wrist.
The pain barely registered as I held my wrist to his mouth.
“Please, Asher,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Take it. Come back to me.”
His lips were cool and still, and for a horrifying moment, I thought I was too late. Panic clawed at me, an animalistic fear I couldn’t contain.
But then, a flicker of movement. A reflex, maybe, or a miracle. His lips parted slightly, and I pressed my wrist to them more firmly.
A few drops of my blood slipped past his lips, and I waited, every muscle in my body taut with dread.
Nothing happened. The world seemed to tilt, the weight of failure crushing me.
But then his throat moved. A faint swallow, so slight I almost missed it.
His body shuddered beneath my hands, and I clutched him tighter, tears blurring my vision.
“That’s it,” I choked out. “Come back to me.”
A ripple of energy passed between us, a tether pulling him from the brink. His eyes snapped open, wide and filled with confusion.
They weren’t the same shade of hazel anymore. There was a hint of something darker, something eternal.
“Asher,” I whispered, my relief so intense it hurt.
He blinked, his gaze finding mine, and for one heart-stopping moment, he was just Asher. My stubborn and beautiful Asher.
Then his eyes fluttered closed again. He was still alive, at least, alive the way I was.
Relief crashed through me, leaving me shaking. I gathered him into my arms, holding him like he was the only real thing left in this world. Because he was.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice raw and trembling.
I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling. I was horrified by what I’d done, yet desperately relieved that Asher was still here, still with me.
“I should’ve let you go, but I couldn’t.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GAEL
Asher’s motionlessness haunted me. He lay on the makeshift bed, his body eerily unmoving, as though caught between life and death.
I sat beside him, my hand brushing against his cold cheek. No reaction. No flicker of recognition.
I reminded myself this was normal. The transformation wasn’t instant; it took time, at least forty-eight hours, sometimes longer.
But the waiting...the waiting was torture.
Patience had never been my strong suit, and vigilance was my only refuge now. I couldn’t let my guard down.
The forest swarmed with hunters, and we were still too close to the danger zone.
Asher needed to complete his transformation somewhere safe, somewhere secure.
