In the window a masculine silhouette sits, the same window that the Blackmoon shined through during my first night here. The figure stands, stepping towards me and away from the window, allowing for me to see his features. Asher wears a solemn expression, his blue eyes as cold as refrozen ice.

I sit, various wires and tubes hooked onto my arms, neck, and chest. He comes to the side of the bed, but his hands remain at his sides.

"My mate runs into the forest during a storm. While I'm kissing her, she turns to a statue in my arms, starts screaming at me to leave, cries out in pain and then passes out. I get her to the hospital only to find out her body was distorting itself from the inside, bleeding internally, puncturing her own organs, and breaking her own bones." He speaks, as if remembering the event only makes him angrier.

I don't respond to him, having nothing to say that could make his anger go away.

"I'm not watching that again, Amber. And I'm sure as hell not letting you go through it again. So I want answers."

My gaze falls to my lap, unable to look him in the eyes any longer.

So this is it? This is the end that's always been coming to me? The way I lose the only thing I've had.

When my answer doesn't come, the rustling of fabric does-- his hand digging in his jeans pocket. A closed fist is held in front of me. His fingers open, revealing the skin of his palm to be a boiling red beneath a small cylinder, its end pointed and silver.

"This was in your skull, Amber." He takes the bullet with his forefinger and thumb, the continuous sizzling of his flesh anything but subtle in my ears. "This was shot into your head, right between your eyes. Tell me how."

Lying isn't an option. And the truth would only lead to the bigger truth, which would only lead to his life being endangered even further. So I take the only choice I have; distraction.

Unable to stand the burning of his skin any longer, my fingers take the bullet from his. Without hesitation, I drag the silver piece down my forearm, leaving a blood colored trail that fades away within seconds of being created. The bullet is tossed carelessly across the room, my unspoken point being proven.

Asher's expression of anger slowly falls, being washed away with shock. With his brow furrowed, he glances at his own hand, the burn marks still healing.

He spends a minute staring at my arm, his finger tracing along the line where my skin was seared only heartbeats ago. In that moment his eyes are dazed, making them unreadable. And in that moment, anxiety pools in my stomach, suspense building with the unknowing of his emotions.

As if on an impulse, his hand cradles my cheek, and his lips press onto mine. My jaw works against his, my mouth moving in his sync. His free arm is placed across my shoulder blades, the hand that once held my face positioning itself on the bed beside me to support his weight as he leans further down.

As he pulls away, a smile stretches across his face, his happiness lighting a fire to warm my chest.

"Why?" I ask, a small grin across lips.

"You heal faster," he answers, as if it should be obvious in itself, "You won't have to be in pain as long."

He takes my hand, weaving his fingers between mine and holding them between us.

"But I still want an explanation, Amber. What happened in the forest?"

Damn him.

Having no excuse this time, I shake my head.

"Your body was shifting but you wouldn't let it. Why?" The realization of his words are like ice water thrown down my back.

An irritated growl scratches in my throat. "How do you know that?"

"The doctor ran tests," he answers simply, awaiting my reaction.

That sentence alone sends heavy doses of panic through my veins, fear igniting within me in the mere thought of what could have happened during my unconsciousness.

Alarm shakes my vexed voice, "Did he take my blood?"

For a brief second his brow wrinkles in confusion, and then it raises in understanding. "Tell me why you wanna know and I'll tell you."

"Did he take it?" I growl again, my grip subconsciously tightening on his hand.

"You don't trust me," he states bluntly, unintentional hurt laced within his tone. Immediately his sadness pains me, but I refuse to give in to him this time.

"I'm not the one asking insecure questions, am I?"

He growls, immediately becoming defensive, "I trust you. But I don't like you thinking you have to hide from me."

My sharp eyes soften at hearing his feelings for me, my gaze falling into my lap once again in dejection, too guilty to look at him.

If only he knew I wasn't hiding it from him. I'm protecting him from it.

His fingers are removed from mine, wrapping themselves around my wrist instead. Guided by Asher, soft material tickles the back of my hand, and soon, my palm is pressed against the warmth of his smooth muscles. An invigorating sensation shoots down my arm and spreads throughout my body, a cold shock, yet burning with pleasure.

He places my palm there, on the left side of his chest, his hand resting atop mine. A strong heartbeat pulses beneath, the feeling of its life rejuvenating me with innocent joy.

"When you hurt, it speeds up. When you're in danger, it wants to burst. And when I'm near you, I can't control it," he aligns his index finger perfectly over mine, "I want to protect you, Amber. All I want you to know is safe and sound. But I can't do that until you tell me what I need to know."

A sad smile paints my face, the lack of effort put in evident.

He doesn't know the truth. But keeping him in the dark pains me. To watch the scared confusion flash in his eyes even when he's trying to hide it feels like a knife in my back. Yet if knew the reality of it, it would kill him. They would kill him. And even I wouldn't be able to save his life, not then.

"I don't want you hurt, Asher," I speak honestly, my fingers curling into a fist against his chest, "And because of that, I can't tell you. Even if it costs me my safety."

With despondent effort, I slowly pull my hand out from under his shirt. He reluctantly lets me go, his own falling to his side pointlessly.

"Everything you have here would be ripped away. You wouldn't have a pack. You wouldn't have a family. You wouldn't be an Alpha anymore. You'd be dead." The last bitter sentence stings my tongue, like my own prolonged canines biting all the way through it.

"Stop trying to protect me," he growls, a bright yellow ring highlighting the rims of his blue irises. "In case you've forgotten, that's my job. I'm suppose to keep you safe, not the other way around."

My eyes narrow as my head tilts, peering at him. The dominant gene in me tingles, irritation rising at the challenge.

My back straightens, and my voice is clipped. "So. In the midst of chaos, you want me to sit there as your blood soaks into the ground? While your skin is being torn from your bones, you want me to watch as if it doesn't bother me?"

Upon hearing my words, a sigh leaves his lips and he raises his head to stare at the ceiling, the Adam's apple in his throat becoming more prominent. His fingers run through his hair when he looks at me again, his inner anxiety showing itself through stressed eyes.

"I don't want you dying for me, okay?" This time his tone is soft, begging subtly for mercy.

I spend a minute just staring at him, taking in his flawless features and godly appearance.

He cares about me.

A warm feeling blossoms in my chest again, like the one that always does when I'm around him.

But I care, too.

Swallowing my nervousness, my fingers twitch with intentions of their own. With unnoticeable hesitation, I rise to my knees, standing just below eye level with him from the bed. My hand slips under his shirt, finding the exact same place where he pressed my palm before.

"So long as this beats, I won't have to," my voice comes out a whisper, a soft tone for only him to hear come from me.

Something flashes in his pupils, something I don't recognize. Something I get the impression that he doesn't want me to see.

Immediately, he pulls me in for a kiss, holding me by the waist. Emitting a growl from Asher, our contact doesn't last long, our lips separated when the door barges open.

"Ew, dude. No PDA, Octavian," Daniel holds his arm over his face, childishly covering his eyes.

"Three's a crowd, Meirrune," Asher gently lowers me into a sitting position, pulling me against his side, "What do you want?"

"Don't shoot the messenger, but..." he drops his back down, inhaling sharply before continuing, "The old man wants to talk to you."

Before Daniel even finishes, Asher's body turns rigid against mine, his only movement being the slight vibrations of a deep growl.

"Tell him he can go fu-"

"No, no, no," he cuts Asher's soon to be vulgarity off, "He sounded reasonable this time. He wouldn't tell me what he wanted to talk about but he was persistent. Said you could find him at the burials."

Daniel steps aside from the doorway, silently urging my Lifeblood to cooperate. A hint of hopefulness flickers in his forest-green eyes as he watches.

A long sigh leaves Asher's lips, his fist clenching and his fingers digging unknowingly into my side. He looks down at me, an apologetic expression already on his face.

"Try not to kill him," I say, my indifference obvious, "If something else happens, it'll only make things worse," I recite his words, a bit of passive aggressiveness mixed in with the seriousness.

He snorts his response as he bends down to hug me, my cheek pressing against his collarbone. As I'm in his embrace, he whispers.

"We'll see."

With that he releases me, and with the absence of his touch, a stupid, unjustified thought enters my mind without warning or wait.

What if I never feel it again? His touch. What if this is the last time?

On his way out, he stops shoulder to shoulder with Daniel, whispering lowly and sternly in his ear. My ears perk, their supernatural hearing tuning in to what's not meant for me to hear.

"I trust you. Don't make me regret that."

And then, as if he hadn't spoken at all, he raises his head and continues out the door. The sight of his back walking further and further away pains me, a stabbing memory resurfacing from the first time he questioned me.

A shallow, shaky sigh relieves only a partial amount of the stress.

Come back to me.

///

A/N:

I can't believe there's already 18 chapters! And 3k reads? That's amazing! Seriously, thank you so much to everyone who has been reading, it means so much to me.

So what do you think Kaizer wants to talk about? Daniel said he seemed reasonable, so do you think that's true? Maybe he's finally coming around...

Thank you for reading!