Willing (The Un 1) - Page 87

“Blink and look down.”

Putting my trust in him again, I force my eyes to blink then look down.

As I take in the sight of my own naked breasts, whatever spell he cast on me is broken.

“What the hell?” I ask.

Then my attention narrows in on my own skin.

Even there, on myself, I can find no imperfection or blemish…

“Look up,” Asher urges, “but don’t look too closely this time.”

Following his lead, I do as he commands, lifting my gaze back to his face. My eyes are instantly drawn to his eyes, though, and I quickly find myself being sucked into them again.

Asher closes his eyes and smirks, breaking the spell himself.

Embarrassed and not appreciating the way he’s messing with me, I frown at him. “Stop doing that. It’s not nice.”

Asher’s smirk grows. “What am I doing?”

“You’re…” I start and leave unfinished. My cheeks burning with heat.

“What am I doing, Chloe?” Asher chuckles.

Grumbling, I say, “You know what you’re doing. You’re bewitching me.”

When I try to pull away, his arms flex to keep me in place.

“I’m doing nothing,” he insists.

A flash of irritation sizzles through me, and Asher must feel it through the bond because he immediately chuckles. “I promise you, love, it’s not me. It’s you.”

Stilling, I frown at his face, wishing I could see his eyes. It’s odd having a conversation this way. I can’t tell if he’s still teasing me again or telling me the truth. “How can it be me?”

Asher smiles now as if he’s pleased. “It’s your vampiric sight. Now that you’ve awakened from your turning, you’re coming into your powers.”

“What does that even mean?” I ask, a little flustered.

Vampiric sight? Turning? Am I supposed to know those things?

His smile fades, turning into a scowl. “You’re a vampire now, Chloe, like me.”

When I only return his scowl, he asks, “Can you feel it?”

Closing my own eyes, I try to feel whatever changes are supposedly happening to me.

“There’s a… warmth in my chest… and my heart isn’t beating,” I admit after a few seconds.

Asher hums thoughtfully. “That warmth is our bond, and you don’t need to worry about your heart. Like I said before, you’ll get used to that. Do you feel anything else?”

I focus hard on my body, but all I notice is where I’m touching him. His skin pressing and rubbing against my skin. “Everywhere you’re touching me tingles… but I don’t know if that’s normal or not…”

I stop myself with a sigh.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Asher says, and crushes me against him to nuzzle the top of my head. His voice drops, becoming deep and husky. “It pleases me that you’ve never touched another man. I’m the only man you’ll ever know.”

Those words bother me… but I don’t know why. It’s like there’s something I’m forgetting. Something very important that I need to remember.

Asher dips his face down and rubs his nose against my cheek. It’s so sweet and tender, I’m stunned.

How does this man keep stunning me?

“Is there anything else? Do you feel anything else?” he asks softly.

I try to ignore his effect on me and focus on anything new I might be feeling, but he’s not making it easy.

“I can feel my blood moving through my veins. I think that’s new…” Again, I’m not sure because I’m having a hard time comparing it to things I’ve felt in the past.

My memory is dark and fuzzy. I have a sense of self. I obviously know my name and his name, and I remember him from somewhere… He’s very familiar to me. I feel as if I’ve known him my entire life. But I can’t bring up any specific events or moments.

I can’t even remember how I ended up in this room with him in the first place.

The harder I try to catch the memory, the quicker it slips away to elude me. Luring me back into the darkness.

Where it’s safe.

Where I can be no one.

Where I can be nothing.

I don’t have to exist.

“Chloe,” Asher murmurs to bring my attention back to him. “Open your eyes.”

I do as he asked, but as soon as I open my eyes, what I see is so sharp and vivid, my stomach twists.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I ask, “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Asher says, but a stab of his own alarm throbs behind my ribs before he quickly squashes it.

His fingers slip into my hair and tighten. I feel the truth of his words in my bones as he speaks them. “You are perfect.”

To him, I am perfect.

But it’s all in the eye of the beholder. Even the most broken and damaged of goods can be perfect and useful to someone.

“I can’t remember anything.”

There’s another stab of alarm from him, stronger than before.

My blood begins to rush through my veins with my rising anxiety.

“I don’t know how I got here… How did I get here? Where is even here?”

Tags: Izzy Sweet, Sean Moriarty The Un Fantasy
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