Cohen

by Emilia Hartley

  ***

  Ashe hoped he couldn’t hear the pace of her heart or hear the shallow depth of her breaths. She pulled herself upright, pretending not to be afraid when she looked into the shadows writhing around his eyes and found herself to be petrified.

  She couldn’t believe what he’d asked her for. To break the bond between an Alpha and his Packmates. It was ludicrous and spat upon the very foundation of an Alpha. Her surprise morphed into anger. There were so few good people in the world and, as much as she believed when she was younger, Cohen Vancourt was not one of them.

  “No,” She said again. “I will not take part in this. If you want the pact broken, you can go to your packmates and tell them yourself. Maybe then you’ll understand what a piece of shit you’re being.”

  His eyes flashed wide. She expected anger. She expected pain to follow. When would she learn to shut her mouth around him? When would she smarten up?

  “I didn’t ask for this.” His voice broke. His shoulders slumped in defeat and she almost felt something like pity for him.

  “Neither did I,” she hissed, stepping closer. “Yet, I know my duty to my Pack. I’m here to help them even if they fear me. Even if they hate me and hurt me.”

  Ashe shoved past him. She wished she could find someplace to hide, someplace Cohen wouldn’t follow. He sparked things inside her she didn’t know existed. A wild and unbridled fury. A stubborn and immovable resistance. And the slow burn of desire.

  She let out a growl of frustration, stomping her way up the stairs. He was insufferable. She would have preferred they go back to the times when Sampson forbade them all from talking to her. It would have made her life infinitely easier. She never dreamed this would happen when she summoned them home. She never thought they would become her problem.

  Upstairs, she breezed into Sampson’s room. She was surprised to find him sitting upright. He watched her with bright and clear eyes and a sad smile on his lips. She ducked her head as if she could disappear.

  “I’m not sure what you poisoned me with, but I feel like a new man,” he croaked.

  “I didn’t poison you. I promise.”

  “You could kill me, and no one would care at this point. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to be rid of me. I was complicit in your childhood and a burden in the here and now.”

  “Stop talking like that,” Ashe told him, her voice soft.

  She might not like Sampson, but she wasn’t completely heartless either. He was a living being, no matter how foolhardy and cruel. She wouldn’t let him suffer if she could help it. She certainly wouldn’t kill him, either. Not that anyone believed that of her.

  She was the Witch of Stonefall, only because the previous Witch of Stonefall had brought about her own demise. Her mother had been an awful person. She’d abused the bond she shared with Ashe’s father, treating him as if he was less than human. The Pack rose to protect him, but Ashe had already been born. No one knew what to do with her, and killing a child wasn’t exactly on anyone’s bucket list.

  “I’m sorry if…” Sampson trailed off. Ashe expected a cough, but when she turned to Sampson, he was wringing his hands in his lap. What had been thick, strong hands were now bony and fragile. “I’m sorry for the things I did. For not helping you.”

  Ashe shrugged. She wished everyone would stop bringing up the past. It was done and gone. There was no fixing it, no erasing what happened. She was done hearing about it.

  “I could have done a lot more to protect you. I should have, but I was an angry old fool.” He coughed, but it didn’t seem to shake through him like it once had. She noted the improvement. “But, could you promise this angry old fool one thing?”

  Ashe wanted to tell him no. She was done with his family asking her for things. She’d brought them back together for the benefit of her Pack and her friend, Joanna. But, it seemed to open doors to the Vancourt men. They thought they could keep requesting more and more from her.

  When she didn’t answer, Sampson went on. “Could you help my son the way he helped you? Cohen has… a wilder spirit than most. He hasn’t dealt with it the best way and I’m sad to say that I didn’t help, either.”

  “No, you kicked your kids out onto the street.”

  “Angry old fool, remember?”

  “Sure,” she said, eyes on the floor.

  He paused, the moment dragging on like he wanted to say more. When she glanced up, she could see the weight of a confession on his shoulders. It pressed him into the bed and stole the little remaining light in his eyes. “Just… Look out for my eldest son.”

  She didn’t know why it was her job, but she nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  Her head shot up, words on her lips. He’d taken her response to his last question as an agreement to his request and she didn’t know how to correct her Alpha. Her chest tightened, and her words lodged in her throat. All she could do was return to what she’d been doing before. She made quick work of the preparations and left small notes on each bottle, describing what each did and when to take them because all Ashe wanted to do was run back to her apartment and hide.

  Finished, Ashe ducked out of the room. She did her best to quietly descend the stairs and slip out the front door. Her sedan was parked in the gravel driveway. The yard held only one other truck, parked over the mess Archer had made when he first arrived.

  Locked in her car, she could breathe easier. She dug out her phone and browsed through her missed messages. There was a voicemail from her father, complaining again about something Gage had done. Ashe deleted the message with a small smile on her lips. She would later pretend she’d never gotten it. The first day after Gage returned, he’d taken all the tires off her father’s truck and placed them high in the trees around the house. Not long after, he and his mate had decorated the man’s front lawn with the contents of his shed.

  It made her smile. It was a small justice that she took pleasure in, the world righting itself. She looked up from her phone, regarding the house once more. Even though the boys hated the place, it was where her best memories had taken place. Perhaps not in the house itself, but in the shed behind it.

  When everything hurt, and she thought she was only steps away from breaking, she would climb in through the shed window. She wasn’t sure how they knew, but they always did. Cohen would slink out to the shed with a book. He’d pass it to her, some new fantastical tale about far away places, and fall into a chair. Every time, he’d close his eyes and snore, but she was convinced he faked it.

  He’d made her feel safe in a time when her life was very much not safe. She leaned forward and let her head rest on the steering wheel. If she agreed to a dying man’s request, she would do it for the sake of the man Cohen had once been. She would repay him for what he’d done and then be rid of him. If he wanted to run away and seclude himself from the world again, who was she to argue?

  A small part of her knew it was wrong. The seclusion had changed him. She was sure of it. Letting him retreat to it would only make it worse. Could she let him do that? Could she let him hurt himself for the sake of the safety of others?

  There was a knock on her window. Her head shot up, heart racing. Archer stood outside her car door with a disgruntled look on his face and a paper coffee cup in his hand. He motioned for her to roll down her window.

  “Gage did it again,” Archer grumbled.

  She was about to ask what when he thrust the coffee cup at her. She took it with confusion, feeling the warmth of its contents seep into her fingertips.

  “The little shit keeps asking for complicated drinks and then telling me he doesn’t like them.”

  “One would think you’d have learned by now,” Ashe commented.

  “I’m not built to learn. Apparently, I’m built to take commands.”

  Ashe scowled. If Archer was going to lead the Packs, he would have to change who he was. She wasn’t sure that was going to happen. Her gaze drifted to the house and found Cohen leaning in the door way, hands shoved
in his pockets as if he could be casual. She knew his entire body was on alert.

  Tightening her grip on the coffee, she made a decision. Ashe was not going to let Cohen slip away from the Pack. He was the strength they were going to need. He just didn’t believe in himself yet.

  “Tell Gage thanks for the coffee.”

  “I’ll tell him to fuck off,” Archer grumbled, saluting her as she put the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway.

  Cars were beginning to line the side of the road, the bigger trucks choosing to park in the field just off the road. It seemed the Packs were throwing another shindig. It helped them feel more like a family and more inclined to help one another after all they’d gone through. While Ashe approved of what Joanna was trying to do, she knew there was no place for her at these gatherings.

  Pack meant something different for Ashe.

  She could feel Cohen’s gaze on her as she drove away. It wasn’t until she was nearly downtown that it fell away. She wanted nothing to do with whatever lay between them. If she was lucky, it was only Sampson’s request. That was what the cards had foreseen. That was all.

  She climbed the stairs to her apartment, coffee in hand. Unable to wrap her mind around anything useful she grabbed a paperback fantasy novel and crashed into a comfy chair to lose herself.

  Chapter Four

  The buzz of her phone in her lap woke her. The room was bursting with the first light of sunrise. Ashe wiped at the drool on her chin with the back of her hand and swore at herself for sleeping in the chair all night. She’d fallen asleep in the midst of a steamy scene and her dreams had been haunted by it.

  She dreamt she was the heroine, rushing in to save her people. Cohen was the love interest, standing bravely at her side. Together, they escaped to the privacy of a cave in the wilds. By the light of the fire, Cohen discovered the creamy expanse of her skin.

  The phone buzzed again. She shook her head to dispel the lingering dream. She wanted to brush her teeth and cleanse her mouth of the taste that filled it.

  “Hello?” she croaked.

  “Ashe?” Cohen’s voice was weak on the other end, as if he could barely manage to speak.

  Her heart tore and she sat up straight. “What’s wrong?”

  “Dad…” There was a long pause. Dread hit her, and she knew what he would say next. “Dad passed away in the night.”

  She retraced the day before. Sampson had seemed better, as if life had been momentarily breathed back into him. How could it have taken such a turn overnight? Ashe didn’t understand. She’d laid out his medicines, each one made to help him survive a little longer. She’d secretly hoped he might live to see Joanna and Archer’s wedding in a week.

  His words of regret returned to her. They’d been the words of a man knocking on death’s door, filled with remorse for a poorly lived life. Sampson had known. Ashe was certain of it.

  No! She refused to believe that Sampson’s time had been up. The man had been banging on Death’s door for weeks. He’d kicked at it and screamed at it, begging the specter to carry him away. It hadn’t been Sampson’s time. Not with all the work she’d put into his health.

  Something had happened.

  “Cohen?” she whispered, knowing shifters had excellent hearing. “I’m going to send you the kind of message no one can hear. Just hold on.”

  She didn’t wait for him to respond. Ashe hung up. She settled into her chair and reached out into the universe with her soul. It detached with practiced ease. Once she’d had a place of her own, she spent a small time shut inside, only going out in her astral form. Killian’s presence had scared her into almost never leaving. This had been the only safe way for her to visit her friend.

  Her astral form landed in the kitchen of Vancourt house. Cohen sat at the table with his head in his hands. She could have sworn the shadows around his eyes were dripping, falling like tears onto the table. His phone was on the table beneath his head, as if he waited for her to text him. The urge to touch him, to rub his back, was overwhelming. She did reach out and touch his shoulder to draw his attention.

  Cohen’s head snapped up. He searched the kitchen for the presence. Ashe had to shift her astral body so that he could see it. When he finally found her, a look of surprise nearly chased away the sorrow on his face.

  “Listen to me carefully,” Ashe began. “I don’t think your father died of natural causes.”

  Cohen opened his mouth and closed it, his jaw tightening. Even though no one could hear her, if he spoke to her, people could hear him. So, he stood from the table and made his way to the door.

  “Where are you going?” Ashe hissed.

  Cohen looked up the staircase to his right and shouted that he was going for a drive. Before anyone could stop him, he slammed the door behind him. Ashe just watched, utterly lost. What had she done wrong? She knew someone had killed Sampson. She knew it down to her bones.

  So, why had Cohen run?

  ***

  Seeing her like that, immaterial and nearly non-existent, had hollowed Cohen. His throat went dry at the sight of her. The urge to pull her into his arms and bury his face into the softness of her had been overwhelming, but she hadn’t actually been there. Her spectral form, a gift he assumed she got from her mother, made him yearn for something real.

  So, he’d grabbed his keys and left before anyone could stop him. The news Ashe had whispered in his ear needed to be discussed, but he couldn’t do it like that. If she was right, they would need privacy. He didn’t know a place more private than hers.

  He lifted his hand to knock on her door. He felt an odd sensation to turn around and leave overcome him. He shook his head and let his knuckles rap against the faux wood. The sensation to turn away still pulled at him. Part of his mind told him this was the wrong place. Thankfully, the ever-present roar of his bear overpowered the feeling.

  The bear knew where Ashe was. It knew at all times.

  Cohen ignored whatever that might mean and knocked again. This time the door flew open. Ashe looked up at him, wide eyed and ruffled. Her clothing was askew, the same dress wrapped around her figure.

  “Did you sleep in that, or…” He paused and searched the apartment behind her for signs of another person. The bear thrashed against his mind, the roar of anger louder than ever as they considered another person sharing Ashe’s bed. It tore at his mind, like claws raking against his brain.

  She quickly righted her dress, cheeks growing red. “What are you trying to insinuate?”

  Cohen sniffed the air, pressing past her. He couldn’t find the scent of another man in the apartment and it calmed his beast. The thoughts of someone else taking that thin dress off her…

  “I’ll have you know I’m still a virgin.” Ashe lifted her chin, even though her face grew even darker.

  The bear rumbled in his mind.

  Perfect.

  He shushed the greedy beast roaring inside of him. It wasn’t Cohen’s place to claim her virginity. It wasn’t even his place to care about it. Ashe was just a person who could help him. But, the bear thought of other ways she could help. It sent him images of her hands wrapped around his cock; her thick lips smiling up at him; long lashes rimming her bedroom eyes as she stroked him.

  Cohen had to shake his head to clear the carnal imageries the bear kept feeding him from his mind. But still, the bear continued to steal glances at Ashe as she went about the living room. It growled and grinned wildly when she bent over to pick something up – the sight of her taut behind enough to make his cock react. Cohen jammed his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes against the bear’s greedy gaze. It took all of his willpower to counter its primal desires.

  “I’m not here to tell you how to live your life,” he began, daring to crack open his eyes. “You visited me and handed me some heavy news. I wanted to see you in person, so we could have a proper conversation about this.”

  Because she couldn’t be right. Cohen had stayed under that blasted roof every day and night jus
t to make sure no one else tried to be as dumb as Grover. Sure, Sampson had outlived his usefulness as an Alpha, but that was no reason to murder anyone in their bed. Yet, Ashe claimed that someone indeed had done just that. And right under his nose.

  Ashe flopped unceremoniously onto the couch, her hair floating like a dark halo for a fleeting moment. Then, her head fell back, and she let out a sigh. Cohen stepped closer and sat on the edge of an ottoman. He did not dare sit on the couch when all his bear could think about was the line of her cleavage and how easily the fabric around her firm body would rip away.

  He set his elbows on his knees and looked to the floor before he spoke. “Tell me what you think happened.”

  Ashe put her feet on the ottoman he sat on. “Clearly, it wasn’t a challenge or else it would’ve been clear. There’s no way to make a physical fight look as though he died in his sleep. There would be bruises or scrapes.”

  Cohen nodded in agreement. Sampson had looked… peaceful when he found his father that morning. There’d been a surprising amount of emotions roaring through his head when he had found his father dead. Far more than he’d ever expected. As the wave of sentiments resurfaced, Cohen’s hand gravitated toward the bare skin of Ashe’s leg. The touch grounded him in ways he never thought possible. For a moment, he was lost in the sensation of skin on skin as he rubbed his thumb back and forth.

  “Cohen, are you listening to me?”

  His head shot up. His heart gave one thump. Had he spaced out? Had the bear taken control?

  But, the room looked fine. Everything was in one piece. Ashe was right where he’d left her, no fear on her face. If anything, she showed a small amount of annoyance.

  She sucked on her lower lip, wide eyes filling with worry. Cohen growled, as if he could chase away whatever was scaring her. When he spoke, his voice was slightly hoarse.

  “No, I will confess I didn’t hear you.”

  “I said someone poisoned Sampson using my remedies. If this gets out, the Pack is going to blame me. It will be a literal witch hunt.” She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it tight, her feet slipping away from his touch, her knees folding into her chest.