Shielding the Beast (discontinued)

Eighteen | Truce

In the window a masculine silhouette sits, the same window that the Blackmoon shined through during my first night here. The figure stands, stepping towards me and away from the window, allowing for me to see his features. Asher wears a solemn expression, his blue eyes as cold as refrozen ice.

I sit, various wires and tubes hooked onto my arms, neck, and chest. He comes to the side of the bed, but his hands remain at his sides.

"My mate runs into the forest during a storm. While I'm kissing her, she turns to a statue in my arms, starts screaming at me to leave, cries out in pain and then passes out. I get her to the hospital only to find out her body was distorting itself from the inside, bleeding internally, puncturing her own organs, and breaking her own bones." He speaks, as if remembering the event only makes him angrier.

I don't respond to him, having nothing to say that could make his anger go away.

"I'm not watching that again, Amber. And I'm sure as hell not letting you go through it again. So I want answers."

My gaze falls to my lap, unable to look him in the eyes any longer.

So this is it? This is the end that's always been coming to me? The way I lose the only thing I've had.

When my answer doesn't come, the rustling of fabric does-- his hand digging in his jeans pocket. A closed fist is held in front of me. His fingers open, revealing the skin of his palm to be a boiling red beneath a small cylinder, its end pointed and silver.

"This was in your skull, Amber." He takes the bullet with his forefinger and thumb, the continuous sizzling of his flesh anything but subtle in my ears. "This was shot into your head, right between your eyes. Tell me how."

Lying isn't an option. And the truth would only lead to the bigger truth, which would only lead to his life being endangered even further. So I take the only choice I have; distraction.

Unable to stand the burning of his skin any longer, my fingers take the bullet from his. Without hesitation, I drag the silver piece down my forearm, leaving a blood colored trail that fades away within seconds of being created. The bullet is tossed carelessly across the room, my unspoken point being proven.

Asher's expression of anger slowly falls, being washed away with shock. With his brow furrowed, he glances at his own hand, the burn marks still healing.

He spends a minute staring at my arm, his finger tracing along the line where my skin was seared only heartbeats ago. In that moment his eyes are dazed, making them unreadable. And in that moment, anxiety pools in my stomach, suspense building with the unknowing of his emotions.

As if on an impulse, his hand cradles my cheek, and his lips press onto mine. My jaw works against his, my mouth moving in his sync. His free arm is placed across my shoulder blades, the hand that once held my face positioning itself on the bed beside me to support his weight as he leans further down.

As he pulls away, a smile stretches across his face, his happiness lighting a fire to warm my chest.

"Why?" I ask, a small grin across lips.

"You heal faster," he answers, as if it should be obvious in itself, "You won't have to be in pain as long."

He takes my hand, weaving his fingers between mine and holding them between us.

"But I still want an explanation, Amber. What happened in the forest?"

Damn him.