Asher Nightshade's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

Six days left. Asher could not stop the count. He sat beside the woman while she read, and the winged cat slept in his lap. Her hand rested near his. He wanted this to last. But the brew would run dry, and Roselyn owed him nothing. He needed a real answer, not another week of borrowed calm. So he made himself say the thing he had turned over all night. "If I stay near you, I will kill you." His voice cracked. The woman set her book down. She did not flinch. "Unless you become like me. A vampire. Then I could not hurt you. Then you would not leave." She stared at him. The cat woke and jumped down. She stood, slow, and walked to the tall bookcase across the room. She traced the spines with one finger, thinking. Then she turned. She shook her head. Her mouth moved. He could not hear the words, but he read them plain. No. Not this. Not forever a killer. Asher rose. He wanted to argue. But her eyes were wet, and she pressed a hand to her chest, then to the door. She would rather leave than become a monster. That was her answer. It was final. He left the manor before he could beg. He walked until he reached the wolf hut, its stone chimney breathing orange smoke. He pounded the small round door. Rowan opened it, wolf ears flat with suspicion. Behind him stood Roselyn, pink wings folded, pink eyes sharp. She had never once trusted Asher. She crossed her arms the moment she saw his face. "You look wrecked," Rowan said. "I asked her to turn," Asher said. "She said no." Roselyn's wings flicked. "Good. She has more sense than you." She stepped closer, small and fierce. "You wanted her to give up her whole life to fix your hunger. That is not love. That is fear." The words landed hard because they were true. Asher looked at the floor. "Then I have six days. When the blossom runs out, I lose control. She stays in that manor with me." Roselyn went quiet. Rowan watched her, waiting. She hated helping Asher, and she showed it in every tight line of her body. But she looked at Rowan, and something in her softened. "One more blossom," she said at last. "The last I will grow this season. After that you find another way to live near her. A way that does not eat her life or yours." She pulled a sprig from her pouch. Pink petals, thin ice on the branch. She held it out but did not let go. "This buys you seven days to earn the right to stand beside her. Waste it and she is gone." Asher took the blossom. The woman had refused the only sure answer. Now he had one week, and no plan but to become someone worth choosing.