by Lola Gabriel
Tears misted Olive’s eyes, beyond touched by the devotion her friend was giving her. Without Esme, everything would have been so different. She would have been so lost without her.
“What would I do without you?” she smiled, bringing a hand back and wiping her eyes.
“Crash and burn, baby, crash and burn,” Esme winked with a massive grin. Even though nothing about their entire situation was ideal, for the first time, Olive was truly hopeful for the future.
6
“Why are you so nervous?” Olive giggled, reaching across to hold Asher’s hands in hers.
Asher, though, pulled away, biting his own lip. They had spent all day together, and for the entirety of it, he had been working up the courage to come clean. Now that the moment had arrived, he was scared shitless. There wasn’t an atom in his entire being that doubted she was his one—she was—but what if this was something that would be too much for her? What would his life be like without her, if he scared her off? How could it even process in a mortal’s mind?
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he murmured, not even having the courage to look her in the eye.
Olive’s warm, soft hands grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. Her enchanting olive eyes pierced right through his. The silliness and playful demeanor had left her face, replaced by a look of concern while the ghost of a smile remained. “Talk to me, Ash.”
“It’s just…” The words caught in his throat. He found himself studying her, as if it were going to be the last time he ever saw her. The light freckles that were sprinkled right under her eyes and across her nose, the perfect bow in her lip, the slope of her adorable little nose. He was in awe of her just like when he had first met her. Just as he choked on an excuse, a lie to tell her to smooth the entire situation over, Asher knew that he respected her far too much to do that. Olive deserved the truth, the full truth, so that she could make the decision for herself.
Closing his eyes for a moment to gather his spinning thoughts, he took a deep breath and clutched her hands that still rested on his face to keep her close. “Olive… I haven’t been entirely honest about who I am.”
A small crease formed between her brows as they knitted together in confusion. “What do you mean?” Olive looked back at the massive estate his family called home. “Let me guess; you’re actually just the cleaning boy who plays house when the residents aren’t home?”
A weak smile tugged at Asher’s lips, loving her sense of humor, but he shook his head nonetheless. “No, sadly this is my actual home,” he sighed. “It’s a matter of how we got it.”
Olive’s face dropped then. Asher already knew what was running through her mind. His family was an elite group of mobsters who killed their way to the top, with scenes of eighties mafia movies running through her mind. That wouldn’t be all that far from the truth. “What do you mean?”
Standing from the patio furniture, he aggressively combed through his curls with his fingers. “You’re not going to believe me…”
A soothing hand coursed down his chest. “Try me.”
He searched around for words to explain but came up short every time he even began to piece a sentence together. It would all sound made up or as if he were on heavy drugs. “I’m not what I appear to be,” he mustered together.
“Oh?”
Asher nodded. “I’m not twenty-five, either.”
The puzzled look returned to Olive’s face. He was incriminating himself rather than bringing to light what he needed to. Growing more and more frustrated with himself, he paced away from her. He needed some space to keep his fear of scaring her, along with his irritation with the English language, under control.
“Asher…” He held up a hand, warning her to stay away. He wasn’t going to be able to find the words, he was starting to realize that.
“To hell with it,” he murmured and began unbuttoning his shirt before tossing it to the side as he kicked off his shoes.
A nervous giggle sounded from Olive. “Are you trying to seduce me? This is a weird way of doing it, hon.”
Not a word was said as Asher continued to strip. Once he was fully naked, he faced her, holding up a hand to signal her to stay in place while he paced back several feet. Then, he did it. His bones slid into place, and his wings expanded, his scales shimmering in the subdued lighting. He didn’t even notice until it was completely done that he was squeezing his eyes tightly shut, petrified to see the look on her face.
Then, Asher felt Olive’s familiar hand on his snout. Slowly, he lifted his lids to see her standing on her tiptoes before him. Her eyes were as round and large as dinner plates, a mixture of amazement and fear dancing around in them. Olive didn’t say a word, merely letting her fingertips brush across his scales. Touching him was making it real, he could see that. She realized she wasn’t dreaming.
The world is a much darker and more mystical place than you know, my love, he thought to himself as he watched her with pained eyes. He knew that at any moment, she would bolt or screech with fright. She didn’t, though. Olive circled him, her fingertips tracing the shape of his wings and the horns of his spine. Shivers ran through him. He felt her pick up his tail, to which he very playfully and gently swung at her with it. She gasped and looked toward his face. Her fear melted into a strange smile.
Once she rounded back to his front, Asher morphed back into his human form, standing before her, vulnerable and silent. Her eyes inspected his skin and continued to touch him as if for the first time. Her silence was killing him, and Asher pleaded with her mentally to say something, anything.
“S… so… your whole family…?”
He nodded. “We’re… royalty, I guess. There’s a whole community of my kind that we see over.”
Olive’s eyes faltered back down to his bare chest, still inspecting him. “Is… is this why you can’t have kids with me?” There was a blush on her cheeks, knowing that it was too soon to speak of children. Asher’s infertility had already been a topic of conversation, however, since there was no need for birth control.
“In a sense,” he muttered. That would be a story for another day. There was no need to tell her witches were real, too. Olive blinked rapidly as she nodded, her mind trying to wrap around it all. Finally, her beautiful eyes returned to his.
“Well, you were right. I wouldn’t have believed you. It’s certainly… well, unbelievable and weird…” Asher held his breath, waiting for her to say it was too much. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you, though.”
Relief ran through him, and his arms wrapped around her, nuzzling her neck. He wanted to weep tears of joy, but he held it back. “I love you, Olive,” he breathed.
“I love you too, Asher. So much.”
Then they shared an emotional and passionate kiss. The intensity of the evening was electrified in it. Asher didn’t dare make any moves until Olive did, her tongue pressing past his lips to deepen the kiss. Soon enough, he was lowering her carefully to the ground, covering every inch of visible skin in wet, feverish kisses. Never in all his years had he felt so accepted and consumed with love.
“Ash. ASH.”
Asher was jolted awake, his heart pounding. Where was he? His senses desperately tried to communicate with one another, taking in his surroundings one little thing at a time. He was in a hotel room. Sebastian was standing above him, looking down with urgency and concern.
“Wh… what?” he muttered, desperately rubbing his eyes.
“We need to get going. The scent was picked up.”
That was all it took for Asher to leap out of bed. He didn’t even allow himself to process what that meant before he was pulling on a pair of briefs and a button-down.
“Let’s go,” he grumbled, picking up his bag and snagging his phone. Before he even realized what he was doing, Asher was checking his phone for notifications from Olive. A hot dagger of pain shot through him. There wouldn’t be any; there never would be again. The dream had brought him back to another time, a time of pure joy. I
n his state of exhaustion, he had forgotten that had been nearly a year ago.
It felt like he was losing her all over again. Dreams like that always did. Thankfully for him, he was caught in another whirlwind at the same time. The woman was nearby, and she would be in their grasp soon enough.
“Let me drive,” Asher demanded, opening his hand for the keys. Bash eyed him curiously, seeing as how Asher rarely drove, but tossed him the keys anyway. He needed his mind focused, and being the ride-along would give him space to spiral.
He drove sporadically, following every direction Sebastian told him. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Bash was holding onto the safety bar above the window, but Asher really couldn’t care less. They drove directly to a coastal town not too far away and parked near the boardwalk where Collin had instructed them to meet. As Asher stepped out of the car, he took a deep inhale yet again. Saltwater, corndogs, and funnel cakes. No earth-shattering smell. His eyes narrowed, peering around as he and his brother made his way through the shopping centers and food carts. God, there were so many people there, how were they ever going to find her, even if they did smell her?
It dawned on him how weird that was. They were acting as bloodhounds, searching for a criminal or missing person. Still, he continued to take in deep breaths, trying to catch even a faint whiff of the ominous aroma. He and Sebastian waded through the sea of people, keeping an eye out for Collin and the others as they did. Everyone had been called to the sight, since the woman had to be somewhere near. They were going to catch her; they were going to. Asher had to believe it.
Just as they passed by a shell art store, Asher stopped dead in his tracks. There it was: the smell. It was… it was like… There wasn’t a way to describe it. The best he could compare it to was earl grey tea and blood, being both earthy and organic in scent. He immediately turned toward the store, looking around as if he could spot where the smell was coming from. He wandered around, catching an even bigger whiff of it. Once he had the scent, he followed its trail. He ran through the store and out the exit, uncaring that he was nudging people out of his way. The smell grew stronger and stronger, and there was another feeling within Asher that he couldn’t place because of how entrapped he was by the aroma. Whatever it was, it was magnetizing him further in the direction he was going. He told himself it was intuition and drive.
Then, as he reached the parking lot of the boardwalk, near where he and Bash had parked, the trail was gone. Asher stood dumbfounded, looking all around for cars speeding away. Getting in a car could be the only explanation of how the smell could just… vanish. The parking lot was so full, he couldn’t spot any suspicious cars.
His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. She was gone.
7
Once they finished gorging themselves on veggie burgers and fries, Esme and Olive strolled around the boardwalk, checking out nearly every shop and kiosk. Despite being utterly stuffed, Olive couldn’t resist getting an Italian ice from a small, vintage cart outside of a tourist shop. She picked at it casually as they shopped about, though they hadn’t bought anything. Olive was already mentally taking inventory of everything they had purchased that day and how much they would have left outside of her little nest of money. Their afternoon was more of a window-shopping extravaganza than anything else, which Olive was content with.
A bout of laughter erupted from Esme as she pointed out a store, which apparently exclusively sold shell art. “We have to go look around,” she insisted, taking Olive’s hand and practically dragging her into the shop.
All the shelves and tables were completely full of shells, the art itself ranging from very touristy—like shell magnets with names hand-painted on them and lanyards bedazzled with so many tiny shells that the fabric couldn’t be seen—to obscure. There were what looked like picture frames entirely made of shells, with no glass or backboard to actually hold a picture. Chandeliers and mobiles hung low from the ceiling. Statues and pottery littered the place, all of which were insanely overpriced. Olive had to hand it to the store owner, though; everything was unique. Not one item looked like the next.
Esme went aisle by aisle, shelf by shelf, and continuously giggled at the gaudy décor. Olive swatted at her arm, trying to get her to behave while the clerk gave them death glares. Of course, Esme did not care. Wandering away from her friend, Olive searched around herself and tried to bide time until Esme had had her fill. She stopped and inspected a few of the more curious items, honestly having no idea what some of them were supposed to be. Just as she turned to return to Esme in hopes of getting out of the store before a scene was caused, something in the corner caught her eye.
It was a small lamp with a glossy royal blue base. The lampshade was utterly covered in shells, some even stacking up on one another and giving it a convex shape. Would any light even escape? Curiosity pierced Olive, and she sauntered over. Her fingertips ran along the cord until she found the little wheel and flicked it. To her surprise, it had a blue tinted bulb inside of it. Glancing around to see the light it gave off, Olive was in awe. Apparently, the shells were meticulously placed to leave tiny spaces in between, producing little star shapes all over the walls. It was beautiful, and she knew right away it would be perfect and serene for a nursery.
Just as Olive wrapped her hands around the base of the lamp to check the price, a hand gripped around her forearm and jerked her away. For a split second, she thought it might have been the clerk, there to scorn her for touching the merchandise—but it wasn’t. It was Esme, who had a panicked look on her face. “We have to go, now.”
Before Olive could ask what had happened, Esme was in a full sprint, with Olive still in her grip. They weaved in and out of the people crowding the alleyway between shops.
“Why are we running?” Olive demanded to know, but she kept her pace.
“I saw Asher. They found us.” Olive’s heart stopped, and her body froze at the blunt words. Asher? Asher was there? Her eyes flew around, unable to resist the urge to look for his head of raven curls. “Come on!” Esme hissed and tugged Olive’s arm once again.
Even though her head was in a fog, she followed. How had Asher found her? A mixture of fear and longing churned in her stomach, causing her early dinner to want to evacuate. A clammy hand clasped her mouth as she ran, begging herself to hold it together. In no time, they found their way to Esme’s beat up red Toyota and jumped inside. Esme, in the driver’s seat, hardly bothered to look out for pedestrians or other cars as she peeled out of the parking lot.
“Grab my bag from back there,” Esme commanded, gesturing to behind her seat. Olive awkwardly shuffled her body so that she could reach the worn leather satchel. She placed it between their seats, and Esme immediately began rummaging through it. When her hand finally came out of the bag, a thin metal chain was wrapped around her fingers, with a medallion or locket of some kind dangling from it. Was it a necklace? “Put it on.”
Olive was a little amused, but mostly confused. Why was Esme asking her to put on a piece of jewelry in the heat of the moment? However, knowing how serious Esme was in that moment, she didn’t argue with it. Sliding the item over her head, the medallion fell to the center of her chest, and Olive plucked it up, inspecting it. It was a locket, a large, flat circle with a red gemstone embedded in the center. Intricate swirls and symbols were engraved into the dark golden surface. She attempted to open the latch, but it was welded shut. “May I ask why I’m wearing this?”
There was hesitation in the air before Esme responded, “It’s a good luck charm.”
Not for the first time, Olive sensed Esme was lying to her. Why would she lie about a piece of jewelry, though? It wasn’t like Esme was any kind of pathological liar; in fact, the woman was generally brutally honest. However, when it came to talking about her past, the same hesitation would come, followed by a story or statement that didn’t exactly add up to the other bits and pieces Olive had gathered on her friend. Still, Olive didn’t comment on it. After all, Esme was rathe
r superstitious, so having a good charm wasn’t out of the question for her.
They took country roads, heading aimlessly in a random direction, only trying to get as much distance between them and Asher as possible. Olive’s eyes continuously went to her side view mirror, constantly checking to see if Asher’s white BMW popped up behind them. It never did.
The two of them rode in silence, both of their minds racing. The only noise was the hum of the engine and the soft indie music coming from the radio.
Olive felt like she was going crazy, unable to stop her thoughts from going a mile a minute. How had Asher found her? Why was he trying to find her? Was it because he missed her or because he somehow, someway found out she was pregnant? Should she be afraid of him? Olive never would be, though. Memories of their time together flashed through the forefront of her mind. Days spent in the park, talking for hours and watching the clouds, telling him things she had never told anyone. Like how her biological parents put her up for adoption at birth, and she had floated around group homes until the age of seven, when she was finally adopted by what she called her real parents. Asher held her as she explained and occasionally cried while doing so. He asked questions, wanting to know more, though not in a prying way.
They had gone on leisurely vacations, just the two of them out on one of his family yachts with nothing but the ocean waves, stars, and a fully stocked wine cooler. They had never run out of conversation. Asher had been such an old soul, enjoying classic foreign films Olive never even heard of. He took her to plays and concerts, creating so many blissful memories together. Of course, there had been a time or two where they would fight, usually about something stupid after one of them had had a particularly long day. Yet he never lost his temper with her, not really. He never spoke to her in a demeaning tone or said things he didn’t mean. They would make up so quickly and easily and make passionate love.
