Why does he have to be so beautiful when I hate him? I want to break his skull. I want to shatter his nose and rip off his chiseled jaw. The desire to destroy him is so strong I struggle to keep my feet in place.
I have to stay between him and Isaac. I can’t give Asher an opening to get around me.
When Asher finally looks back up at me, his eyes are guarded. His thoughts pitch-black and impregnable.
“So,” Asher says as he takes a slow, cautious step to the left. Beginning to circle around Isaac and me as if we’re dancing. “That’s how you want to play, angel?”
Asher moves with a sleek supernatural grace I could only hope to mimic. He’s much more comfortable in his skin, having spent almost a thousand years in it.
Everything is still new to me, and I’m a bit terrified I’m going to slip up. My senses keep trying to latch onto every enhanced sensation I’m experiencing, making it a struggle to keep my attention focused solely on him.
I’ve never been more aware or annoyed by the bottom of my feet as I match him step for step. Every little speck of dirt, every little grain of concrete touching my soles is noted.
I also feel the other vampires in the room, their presence and powers itching at the back my neck. My instincts warn me not to take their current lack of action for granted. At any second, they could jump in and all overpower me, but for now they seem content to wait and observe.
“Play?” I sneer and resist the urge to grip the chain even tighter, afraid I’ll snap it in half. “This isn’t a game, Asher.”
Trying to lure me into a rhythm, Asher completes a full circle and a half around the chair before he makes another grab for me.
More than ready to cause him more pain, I lash out with the loop of chain, cracking him across the arm and shoulder.
Asher jumps back with a hiss this time, and I can’t help but smile. Some of my bloodlust satisfied.
The skin down the middle of his shoulder splits open and weeps tears of blood. I watch as fat drops spill out of the wound and lick my lips. Wishing I could taste it. All too soon, though, the wound knits back together.
“Isn’t it?” Asher asks with a hint of a growl.
He takes a step then quickly launches himself at me again, trying to catch me off guard.
I swing the loop at him, cracking it across his other shoulder. “No! This is not a game, Asher. This is me fighting you for the life of my friend!”
“Friend?” Asher laughs dismissively. I swear he’s doing everything in his power to rile me up even more. “The hunter is not your friend.”
Before I can respond, Asher jumps at me, forcing me to lash out in desperation. I only crack him across the chest, but he dances back.
“He is my friend,” I pant at him, my emotions starting to boil over. “And he has a name—Isaac.”
I’m turning into a broken record, but I hate how he keeps reducing Isaac down to a title, like he’s not a person. Dehumanizing him.
“Very well,” Asher says smugly, “Isaac is not your friend. Isaac is a fucking abomination that should be exterminated.”
“Abomination?” I scoff at the insult. “You’re the only abomination I see here!”
Asher grins, his eyes glowing brighter as he prowls around the chair. “He’s even more perverted and deviant than I am. Why don’t you tell her what you’ve been doing, Isaac. Tell her why we’ve been bleeding you out for days and purging your body.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Isaac’s hands fumble with the tape he was peeling off around his middle.
“I haven’t been doing anything,” Isaac grumbles, shooting me a furtive glance. “Besides trying to save my best friend.”
My chest squeezes with tightness to hear him call me his best friend, but I can taste the lie in the air. The dishonesty seeping out of his pores despite his expression imploring me to believe him.
He’s clearly been doing something. What, I don’t know, and I’m not sure if it should matter. I doubt whatever he has been doing is any worse than what Asher has done.
No, it’s merely Asher trying to mess with my head. Trying to make me second-guess my actions and intentions.
I won’t fall for his trick.
“Oh, don’t play coy now, Isaac,” Asher purrs. He takes a quick step toward me but slips away before I can touch him with the chain. Chuckling and toying with me. “Tell us what you’ve been drinking.”
Isaac tries to fight the compulsion, his body visibly stiffening and hands clenching. But ultimately he’s forced to grit out, “Holy water and… blood.”
My step falters, but I quickly recover. I wasn’t expecting that.