“I’m not,” I argued. “I’m not beautiful. I know that. We both know that.”
Asher’s entire body jerked. Flinched. His eyes turned dark. “You seriously think that?” he asked in a hard voice.
I glanced down. “I know it,” I replied in a small voice.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Wish more than anything else I had the gift to bring back the dead. First, I’d get your mom back, then I’d get your father. Kill that piece of shit all over again. I’d make it slow. Death is too easy of an escape for what he did to this beautiful soul,” he said fiercely, his voice almost shaking with fury.
His finger moved underneath my chin, gently moving my eyes to meet his.
“Listen to me, flower. You are the most beautiful, amazing woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Everything about you. Your hair that shines like the sun. The eyes that look like someone’s taken a piece of the ocean and put it in those beautiful things….” he paused, stroking my face. “Beauty is on the surface, flower. Temporary. Something that fades, withers. Being truly beautiful is when you’ve known suffering, fought demons at the depths of despair and managed to claw your way out. Managed to smile again. Managed to laugh, to live, to love. That’s eternal. That’s you.”
His certainty. His resolve, almost had me believing him. His words caused tears to trail down my cheeks. But a lifetime of my own certainty stopped me. I knew arguing was pointless, so I just leaned down and placed my mouth gently on his.
Gently was where I started, hungry and claiming was where he finished it.
“You still want to try and look for answers at the bottom of a bottle, I won’t approve, but I’ll be there. You’ll do it at the club,” he said firmly against my mouth.
I nodded more on instinct than anything else. I was questioning the answers that lay at the bottom of any of the bottles I’d emptied. I knew that nothing of value was there, and it wasn’t exactly a long-term plan.
“Can I ask you one question?” he murmured softly, searching my face.
I nodded.
“Do you want to be with me? Do you feel this, us, right down to your soul?” he asked in a raspy tone.
I swallowed. “That’s two questions,” I whispered, my heart beating one hundred miles a minute.
Asher gave me a look but didn’t say a thing. He seemed to realize my need for silence. So he let the quiet expand while I searched my head.
“Yes,” I said finally. I opened my mouth to say the reasons why it wasn’t that simple. How he’d realized that I wasn’t right for him. How I was a broken shell that wouldn’t fool him for long. His finger at my lips silenced me.
“It’s that simple, flower. You want this, you feel this. I want you. I’ve fuckin’ craved you for three years, babe. I’m holding on as tight as I can without bruising you, and I’m not letting go anytime soon,” he declared hoarsely. “That’s all there needs to be right now. You want me. I want you. The other shit doesn’t matter,” he said simply.
I wanted to believe that. With all of me, I did. I wanted to believe that fate had finished screwing with me, and somehow in the midst of all the turmoil in my life we could make it work. I knew doubt would creep in, later, in the future. But right now I did believe him, did feel the warmth settle in at his promise.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He nodded, kissing my nose. He moved me off him to tuck me back into his chest.
“Sleep now,” he commanded softly.
I snuggled closer to his warm body, squeezing my eyes shut. Hopefully, the presence of it would help make the nightmares go away.
I jolted awake with a pounding heart and a panicked mind. I was suffocating, choking, air trapped in my chest. My throat closed up, and I struggled to get any oxygen into my lungs, no matter how hard I sucked it in desperately. The light switched on, Asher’s worried face was illuminated, and he clutched my shoulders.
“Holy fuck, Lily, what is it?” he commanded urgently, his eyes darting over my entire body as if he was looking for a wound.
I struggled to catch my breath, to get words out. It wasn’t lost on me, I hadn’t told him about my asthma, so he wouldn’t know about the terrifying attacks that had plagued me since I was a kid. Right after I turned nine in fact. I hadn’t had one in a long while, the terror was not unfamiliar, but unexpected.
“Lily?” he shouted as I wheezed, unable to speak.
Be calm. Try to be calm, I told myself. I knew panic made it worse. Calm is hard when an invisible hand tightened around your throat, making you drown with no water in sight. I moved my shaking arm to the drawer beside my bed where my inhaler lived.