worst of the blood out of my hair and dried the long strands with a towel as best he could. I couldn’t bear to pull my knit cap on, even if my wet hair would be exposed to the frigid night air. Asher watched with concern as I arranged my hair in a loose braid and helped me into my coat. Exhausted now, it occurred to me that Laura should have arrived by now to pick me up.
“I don’t have a ride,” I said, stumbling to a stop.
Asher steered me to the door. “I called Lucy earlier and asked her to let Laura know I’d drive you home.”
The idea of getting on his motorcycle now sounded like pure, unholy torture. I pictured us hitting a bump and the jolt of pain that movement would set off in my body.
“I have my car. This way.”
We walked out of the community center into the cold, and my trembling worsened. He rushed to open the passenger door of a sleek, navy sedan and helped ease me in. I sank into the seat and closed my eyes while he started the car, turning the heater up full blast. We drove in silence to my house where he parked on the street in the halo of a streetlamp. He cut the headlights, but left the engine running so the heat continued to pour through the vents.
Asher reached for my hand, twisting his fingers through mine. “Why are you shivering so badly?”
“H-h-heat leaves body. W-w-worse with head injuries.” The full aftereffects of a complex healing had set in, and shudders wracked my body. Experience told me nothing could be done but try to stay warm and wait them out.
Asher’s shadowed face was impossible to read in the dim light of the car. Without warning, he shoved his seat back and lifted me across the console onto his lap. Something warm—his coat—wrapped around me as he cradled me. His hand spread over the back of my neck, and my cold nose pressed into his scratchy wool sweater. He smelled like Blackwell Falls, a natural mixture of salty air and the woods, and his heart beat double-time beneath my ear.
“Relax,” he breathed, as if I had the strength to fight him. “We’re calling a truce until you get warm.”
His heat felt delicious, and after several long minutes my shivering tapered off. The last hour had drained me physically and mentally. My defenses had been stripped since before he’d shown up to save me, but he’d kept his raised. I pulled back to study his square jaw, shadowed with dark whiskers. It felt nice not to have to be the responsible one for the moment. I wouldn’t be able to stop him if he did attack me now, anyways.
He groaned and dragged a hand over his face. “Geez, Remy. I’m not a saint.”
Still disoriented, I asked, “What are you talking about?”
He froze and dropped his hand, refusing to look at me. “Never mind.”
He appeared so upset that I let it go. “Asher, what were you doing at the pool?”
“I planned to warn you off my brother, even though I know you made that comment to provoke me. But the truth is I was jealous.”
Even in the shadows his expression looked hard, and I believed him. The darkness wound around us, inviting us to share our secrets.
“Of Gabe?” I asked. “You’re right. I said he interested me to irritate you. I don’t have any intention of going near your brother.”
“I know. I meant Brandon.”
Surprised, I tilted my chin to see his face better. “Why would you be jealous of Brandon?”
“After I got over being angry at you for taunting me with Gabriel—thanks for that, by the way—it occurred to me that maybe there was someone else. I asked around and found out you’ve been spending a lot of time with Brandon here at the pool. You seem . . . close.”
Green eyes gleamed when he finally looked down at me. He was jealous. My heart thudded against my ribs. “Oh. He’s my friend. A good friend.”
The clipped edge to his voice betrayed his anger. “I got that distinct impression when you were willing to die for him. What were you thinking, Remy?”
He’d returned to insulting me. My
“I don’t have a ride,” I said, stumbling to a stop.
Asher steered me to the door. “I called Lucy earlier and asked her to let Laura know I’d drive you home.”
The idea of getting on his motorcycle now sounded like pure, unholy torture. I pictured us hitting a bump and the jolt of pain that movement would set off in my body.
“I have my car. This way.”
We walked out of the community center into the cold, and my trembling worsened. He rushed to open the passenger door of a sleek, navy sedan and helped ease me in. I sank into the seat and closed my eyes while he started the car, turning the heater up full blast. We drove in silence to my house where he parked on the street in the halo of a streetlamp. He cut the headlights, but left the engine running so the heat continued to pour through the vents.
Asher reached for my hand, twisting his fingers through mine. “Why are you shivering so badly?”
“H-h-heat leaves body. W-w-worse with head injuries.” The full aftereffects of a complex healing had set in, and shudders wracked my body. Experience told me nothing could be done but try to stay warm and wait them out.
Asher’s shadowed face was impossible to read in the dim light of the car. Without warning, he shoved his seat back and lifted me across the console onto his lap. Something warm—his coat—wrapped around me as he cradled me. His hand spread over the back of my neck, and my cold nose pressed into his scratchy wool sweater. He smelled like Blackwell Falls, a natural mixture of salty air and the woods, and his heart beat double-time beneath my ear.
“Relax,” he breathed, as if I had the strength to fight him. “We’re calling a truce until you get warm.”
His heat felt delicious, and after several long minutes my shivering tapered off. The last hour had drained me physically and mentally. My defenses had been stripped since before he’d shown up to save me, but he’d kept his raised. I pulled back to study his square jaw, shadowed with dark whiskers. It felt nice not to have to be the responsible one for the moment. I wouldn’t be able to stop him if he did attack me now, anyways.
He groaned and dragged a hand over his face. “Geez, Remy. I’m not a saint.”
Still disoriented, I asked, “What are you talking about?”
He froze and dropped his hand, refusing to look at me. “Never mind.”
He appeared so upset that I let it go. “Asher, what were you doing at the pool?”
“I planned to warn you off my brother, even though I know you made that comment to provoke me. But the truth is I was jealous.”
Even in the shadows his expression looked hard, and I believed him. The darkness wound around us, inviting us to share our secrets.
“Of Gabe?” I asked. “You’re right. I said he interested me to irritate you. I don’t have any intention of going near your brother.”
“I know. I meant Brandon.”
Surprised, I tilted my chin to see his face better. “Why would you be jealous of Brandon?”
“After I got over being angry at you for taunting me with Gabriel—thanks for that, by the way—it occurred to me that maybe there was someone else. I asked around and found out you’ve been spending a lot of time with Brandon here at the pool. You seem . . . close.”
Green eyes gleamed when he finally looked down at me. He was jealous. My heart thudded against my ribs. “Oh. He’s my friend. A good friend.”
The clipped edge to his voice betrayed his anger. “I got that distinct impression when you were willing to die for him. What were you thinking, Remy?”
He’d returned to insulting me. My
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