by A. K. Koonce
“But it’s ours. The Burrow,” Shae says in a dreamy whisper. “We raised a family here. We have beautiful memories here.”
Their story is astounding and inspiring and terrifying all at once. They defied their government and lived a secret life underground, choosing to break the law rather than their own hearts. And they got away with it. And more importantly, they’ve lived happily ever after.
I look across the table, my gaze being pulled toward him. But Asher doesn’t appear to share my hopeful thinking. His silver eyes are cast down to his empty plate, his jaw set hard.
Jim clears his throat and stands. “Why don’t you show me that gift you brought back with you?” he says looking to Asher.
Asher’s face relaxes into a passive look as he nods. The two men walk into the next room. Jim moves to his seat in the tan recliner and Asher disappears into a closet near the entrance. My mother stands as well, but it’s an anxious gesture like she’s waited all night for dinner to be over.
“I’m actually still very tired. I think I’ll just go to bed.” She gives a tight smile to Shae, who nods with worry etching lines around her eyes.
Hesitantly, I trail behind her back to our small guest room. It’s dark in the windowless room, and she doesn’t turn on the light, but she seems to sense me behind her. She pauses, holding the door in her hand. She stands within the room, and I stand waiting in the doorframe. She doesn’t turn to me. Her slight shoulders sag with the weight of her thoughts.
She speaks, startling me with her whispered voice.
“I’ll give my last breaths to see you live a better life than my own, Fallon.” Her head is bent low in thought and my chest tightens from lack of breath. I don’t make a sound as I hang on her every word within the darkness. “What happened is in the past. It’s gone.” She shudders, her shoulders shaking with her uneven breath.
“He’s gone. But your future is here. We can’t change the past no matter how often we revisit it,” she says in a whisper. I reach out to her, taking her hand in mine, needing to comfort her as well as myself.
Her eyes, so similar to my own, are a bit brighter looking at me. She squeezes my hand in hers lightly. “All we can do is live our lives and hope we’re not screwing it up more than it already is.” She laughs quietly, and I do my best to smile back at her. My features feel strained and desperate to remain unhappy. But I can’t. I won’t.
She hugs me gently, her head resting against my shoulder for a short amount of time. Her arms wrap around me as if shielding me from any further pain the world might ever threaten me with.
“I love you, Fallon.”
“I love you too, mom.” My voice is weak, barely a rasp.
She gives me another half-smile before slowly closing the door behind her. It takes me a minute to walk away, my feet heavy against the tiled floor of the kitchen.
My heart sinks for my mother, my strong mother. She’ll find her strength again but when, I don’t know. I help Shae clear the table, trying to keep my mind on the busy work at hand.
“You look like her,” Shae says simply, her back turned toward me as she runs water in the sink.
Her words surprise me, and my body stops moving for a moment as they sink in. It’s not something people ever tell me. Yes, I resemble my mother, a very vague resemblance, but it’s there. I look more like her niece than her daughter.
“You act like her, too.”
My spine straightens at her remark. It’s something I have absolutely never heard in my life, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
“I don’t really know what you mean,” I say, setting plates and forks in the sink full of soapy water.
Shae smiles over at me, a warm smile that only a grandma can give. “You’re silent, a listener, therefore a learner. You’re not as outspoken as she is, but the self-assured confidence is there when you remember it.”
We wash and dry the dishes for a while, a comfortable quietness filling the air between us. But the silence makes my mind drift to places I have no intentions of ever revisiting.
“How long have you known my mother?”
Shae never stops working, the small sponge relentless in its task, demanding a shine from each dish.
“Asher’s mother, Kylie, gave him all his good looks.” She grins over her shoulder at me. “Your mother was her best friend. Kylie ran away when she was a teenager and lived in a camp close by here.” Shae’s usual bubbly demeanor falls away. Her kind eyes are shadowed in memory. “The two girls were best friends, but our daughter was sheltered and trusting. Charlotte looked after her like a sister, but Kylie always found danger in the world.” Shae swallows hard. She turns to me, forcing a smile. “Charlotte delivered our grandbabies, did you know that?” Her happiness is right there again. Shining through the darkness.
I shake my head, waiting to hear a happy end, but an eerie feeling buzzes through me knowing there won’t be one.
“Yes, your mother has been connected to this family for decades. She delivered Micah and Asher in secrecy at two AM in this very house. It was her first delivery. She watched her best friend die that night. Kylie didn’t stand a chance of surviving the pregnancy.” Her voice waves with the sad memory.
My mother’s first delivery was a twin hybrid delivery? My heart pounds, remembering what Asher had told me. What if it hadn’t been a hybrid delivery and it had been … a veil birth? Did she know? She had to have known.
And now I know. That’s why she saved Asher from the compound, and why she trusts a hybrid with her only daughter. Because he’s closer to human than most men. She’d rather I have the chance to live quietly with him than harshly alone.
I take a deep breath, processing the thoughts that swarm my mind.
“What did you do with two babies to keep you busy?” I ask the only normal question I can think of.
A small smile touches her sad eyes. I lean my back against the counter, folding my hands over my chilly arms.
“Well, it had been a long time since we had little ones running around the house. And Asher, he was more than we had ever anticipated. His little hands used to break everything they touched. He snapped our old coffee table in two when he was just learning to walk.” She shakes her head, her eyes practically glowing with the memory.
At the sound of his name, Asher walks silently into the kitchen, stopping in the threshold and leaning against the white doorframe, his lean body easily filling the space as he folds his arms across his chest. He tilts his head to one side as if interested in our conversation. I physically can’t resist the reaction my body has to him. My eyes are trained on him. I don’t know why, but I smile shyly, my heart pounding just from the sight of him. A lazy smile forms on his handsome face, and my heart leaps as if reaching out to him.
“We wanted a normal life for them,” Shae says, ignoring the way I’m looking at her grandson. I fidget as soon as she speaks and turn my back to Asher to face her, giving my full attention to the story.
“They were both miracles by their own right. A hybrid-human baby with vampire lineage surviving a pregnancy with a hybrid-vampire. Somehow Micah took after his mother and didn’t physically inherit the cursed genes of his father. It was unheard of and bizarre, and … a complete miracle. They were beautiful and identical, except their eyes of course. They had a bond we couldn’t begin to understand.”
The word physically is branded in my mind. Physically Micah was human… He appeared human. But he wasn’t. Not entirely.
“We failed their mother so much, we had to try something different with them. It broke our hearts but we found a couple in the neighboring village that had lost three babies in one year. If they filed for another birthing permit and lost another pregnancy, they wouldn’t be given another chance.” Shae braces her hands tightly against the edge of the counter, her eyes fixed on the now empty sink. “So they happily took Micah in. We didn’t tell them what his father was; God knows they wouldn’t have accepted him. But Micah was practically human, that sweet boy
didn’t have an evil bone in his body.”
My gaze drifts over my shoulder to Asher. His dark hair hangs low, shadowing his eyes as he looks at the gray tile floor. His previously confident stature is nowhere to be found, and I want nothing more than to hold him. To erase the pain that’s etched into his perfect face.
“We kept Asher. We raised him the best we could, considering our differences,” she says, her voice filled with a mixture of pride and pain. “He’s the best thing that ever came out of a bad situation. He’s a good man.” Shae looks me in the eye.
I brush my hand over hers. Her frail hand is cold despite the thick sweater she’s wearing. I want to hug her. She’s had such a long, hard life. She could have chosen differently. If given a second chance would she have chosen the easy road in her youth?
Asher clears his throat, making Shae jump. Her hand still rests under mine, against the sink. We both turn toward Asher. He stands with his hands in his pocket, a big smile on his lips like he didn’t hear our conversation at all.
I guess I’m not the only eavesdropper here tonight.
“Got a surprise for you in the living room,” he says, nodding his head toward the adjoining room.
Shae gives him a wide grin like she’s already received a perfect gift.
Maybe she has.
Chapter Fourteen
Where Fate Led
After everyone settles into the small living room, Jim pulls the instrument out from beside his creaking chair. The instrument is dirty with mud, and sand stains the glossy surface, but it’s intact.
Shae gasps at the sight of wood and strings. Asher’s face breaks into a wide, triumphant grin. Dimples I rarely ever see crease his smile.
“He found your guitar? I haven’t seen this in years,” Shae says settling in on the floor next to Jim’s feet. “Do you remember how to play?” she asks, a ramble of excited words spilling out of her mouth.
“You can’t be any worse than you were when I was a kid,” Asher tells him with a laugh, gaining himself a glare from Jim.
Jim shrugs, looking from Asher to Shae before settling back in the chair and placing the guitar on his lap. His fingers trail silently down the strings, but he doesn’t touch them.
My fingers tick with the memory of holding the instrument in my hands, the melody already strumming within me. The memory of Asher’s hands on me. My face flames at the thought and I look up to find Asher smirking down at me, probably reading my thoughts that are written in red all over my face.
Jim’s fingers fumble over a few strings, a faint resemblance of music hidden under misplaced chords. He’s patient with his faults in the way only an elderly man can be. Asher’s eyes never leave his grandfather and neither do Shae’s.
I’m here. I’m present in this moment. Finally. I feel the love and emotion filling this room as memories and laughter pass between us. And I’m a part of it. In a strange way, I fit here. I’ve never felt that before.
Within minutes, a song is strummed under confident but worn hands. Shae hums softly to the music. Jim’s eyes drift from his steady fingers to Shae. An adoring look passes between them.
The slow melody ties together and fills my body. I sway lightly on my feet until I’m pulled into Asher’s side. His hard body halts the trance I found in the music. He moves to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, holding me against his chest. His head tilts down and leans against mine.
A warm feeling spreads over me. A safe but frantic feeling buzzes through my body. I’ve never felt like this before. No one has ever held me like this before. No one has ever looked at me the way Asher is looking down at me right now, his lids lowered and his gaze searching mine, searching for something deeper than the surface. His hands trail down my arms lightly. A tingle breaks out over my skin at this touch. His hands slip easily into mine at my sides. His thumb brushes back and forth against my knuckles, in time with the music.
He pulls me with him as he walks backward slowly. The two of us slip quietly from the room, the melody following us up the stairs.
Ripper has taken notice of our little getaway and prances at my feet. He seems eager to get outside. As soon as Asher opens the refrigerator door, the dog shoots off like a shadow in the night. I’m not worried about him. Not here. Everything is so peaceful here, not even my thoughts are threatening anymore.
Asher leads me through the decaying house. I pause when he turns to walk up the stairs, his hand resting on the broken railing.
“You’re sure we should be walking around up here?” I ask, glancing at multiple broken boards on the stairs.
He leans toward me, lowering his eyes to mine. The moonlight reflects in his gray eyes. His body is so close to mine I can feel his warmth through my thin shirt.
“I’d never let anything happen to you,” he says in a whisper, his forehead leaning against mine.
I close my eyes and breathe him in. His clean scent fills me, and I’m reminded how different we both are here. How much we’ve both changed since that first day I sat across from him at the compound. How much I truly do trust him. He’s not the pike, and I’m not that glaring girl who’s unsure if she hates him or not.
“I’d never let you hit the ground anyway,” he adds with a quiet laugh, his breath fanning over my face.
I narrow my eyes at his unfunny use of sarcasm. Just when I thought we had both grown up during our journey. I trust him and he says something like that. What a mood killer. What a jerk. What an as—
My thoughts are cut short when he grabs me by the waist and throws me over his shoulder. I muffle a shriek as he carries me up the creaking stairs. I slap my hands against his broad shoulders; his deep laughter vibrates through my body as I’m jostled about with every terrifying step he takes in the death trap that is this house.
At the top of the stairs, he carefully lifts me off his shoulders until my feet touch the wooden floor below. His hands linger on my hips and my fingers grasp his shoulders. The fear of falling through the stairs is only partially on my mind now.
His body is angled into mine. His smug amusement is still present on his arrogant face.
“Do you ever get a girl’s permission before manhandling her like that?” I ask, trying to sound annoyed even as my hands have a mind of their own. My fingers trace the collar of his shirt until I’m pushing my fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. My chest rises and falls visibly, and I can only hope he can’t hear how hard my heart’s pounding in my chest. The sound fills my ears and mind.
“What can I say? If you’ve heard one yes, you’ve heard them all,” he says in a confident whisper, still grinning down at me.
His jab fills my chest with laughter, but it doesn’t resonate past my lips. A fluttering seriousness grows within me as I realize he’s flirting with me. Is this what it’s like to really be attracted to someone? A pressure that fills your chest until you can’t breathe? A need to just touch them, to have him near you? When just the feel of his skin against yours soars adrenaline through your veins?
It feels a little unnatural, really, but in the best possible way.
“Is that true?” I tilt my head up at him. I try for sarcastic jealousy. I try for that smooth confidence that pours so easily from him, but my voice comes out breathy and quiet.
His hands are on my hips, and his clear eyes are intently steady on me as he shakes his head no.
His full lips part almost hesitantly, his eyes drift down to my lips.
“If you didn’t like that, you’re going to hate this.”
He slowly pulls away, his hands dropping from my waist. To my disappointment, he releases his hold on me and opens a window in the hallway, the window pane screeching as he forces it open.
The warm night air fills the stuffy room, the smell of fresh air and dirt meeting my nose. Asher looks back at me from across the small hallway. He gives me one last confusing look before he leans out the window, angling his body out into the night. One leg is out and one leg is in.
> This is our relationship. We will only ever be partially together with minimal time here and there with one another before one of us is off half dangling out a window while the other stands alone and confused.
Just as the feeling settles uncomfortably into my chest, Asher lifts his body. The Crimson Sword dangles dangerously against his hip as he pulls himself to the roof and his feet disappear entirely. Dust rains down on me under the new weight on the beams above. My mouth hangs open, my arms fold over my chest. A cold feeling washes into my body as I stand alone in the dark hallway.
I jump when he leans back over the window upside down, his hair blowing in the breeze as he looks at me through the upper section of the dirty window.
“You coming?” he asks.
I raise my brows, not sure if I’m ready yet to jump out of the second story window for this hybrid. He bites his lip and looks around the dusty room I’m standing in, his eyes no longer able to meet my own.
“You know, you can leave anytime you want. You really don’t have to stay. You don’t have to do anything, Fallon,” he says. His quiet voice is muffled through the glass as uncertainty fills his beautiful features.
My heart dips at his words. He thinks I’d leave? Do I want to leave?
No, not at all. I’ve had a tornado of a life since the day I met him, but I don’t think I can go back to fair-weather living.
With three short steps, I’m across the hall, my fingers biting into the chipped window frame. His eyes search mine. Just like that, it’s as though we’re separated again, but the walls and windows of the compound are no longer in the way. It’s just me and him. We’re the only thing in each other’s paths. In our way.
I lean out the window, the breeze pulling my hair around my face as I look up at him. Our faces are only inches apart.
