I can’t tell if he’s afraid I’m going to hurt him or afraid I might react badly to whatever he has to say, so I nod my head.
Hands going to the cuff on his left hand, I quickly undo it then use my nails to slice into the tape wrapped up his arm.
I almost have all the duct tape shredded when cold fingers wrap around my wrist to stop me.
“Mother, I don’t believe Father would approve,” someone singsongs.
I immediately jerk my arm out of the grip and spin around to see the vampire with white hair and red eyes standing beside me.
My wrist burns where he touched me, the remnants of his aura and broken spirit making mine want to weep in sympathy.
Lifting my arm, I rub at my wrist and hiss at him like I’m a feral cat. “Don’t touch me.”
The creepy white-haired vampire takes one look at me, at my nudity, then tears his cloudy gaze away. Pointedly looking to the side as if he’s embarrassed by me being undressed.
“Forgive me, Mother,” the vampire says, sounding truly remorseful. “I only wish to spare you from Father’s wrath.”
Mother? Father? I scowl at him, truly having no clue who he’s talking about.
I open my mouth, ready to tell him—I’m not your mommy—only to be stopped by a growl coming from the other side of the basement.
“It’s too late for that,” Asher says ominously.
Shirtless, wearing only a pair of dark pants that aren’t even buttoned, Asher stalks toward Isaac and me. The expression on his face furious.
He knows, thanks to the connection between us, what I intend to do, and he’s pissed.
My instincts immediately recognize the danger, but my eyes can’t help but take a second to lovingly eat up the sight of him. Appreciating the work of art God created.
He’s all hard, rippling muscle moving like a well-oiled machine. Heavy muscle I’ve had bearing down on me. Muscle I’ve tasted and explored with my mouth and hands.
The living embodiment of walking, talking, angry menace.
Then I feel it. The magnitude of his aura and power. The strength of it expands and fills the room like a pair of wings snapping out, leaving no room for oxygen.
His presence whips at my skin before slamming into my chest, forcing the air in my lungs out in a gasp.
I take a stumbling step back and nearly fall into Isaac.
Asher’s eyes widen a fraction as I catch my balance, grabbing onto Isaac’s right arm, then narrow with murderous intent.
Stopping a few feet away from us, he tips his head back, showing me the veins throbbing in his throat, and roars, “Don’t look at her!”
Someone snickers behind Asher when the echoes of his roar fade away. Someone I dare not risk looking at as Asher’s chin drops and his blazing eyes come back to focus on me.
“As if we would. Who the hell wants to see their mother naked?”
Someone else makes a gagging noise and then there’s some more snickering, telling me others are in the room. Asher’s children, perhaps…
“Step away from the hunter, Chloe,” Asher grinds out between clenched teeth. His hands balling into fists.
He’s going to kill Isaac.
Even without the bond showing me images of exactly what Asher wants to do—images of Asher ripping Isaac apart, limb by limb, piece by piece, for daring to breathe so close to me—it’s clear Asher has no intention of letting Isaac go without a fight.
A fight I most likely can’t win but must take on, regardless.
I will protect the last living friend I have left with my own life if it comes down to it.
“Hunter?” I ask, blinking my lashes slowly and pretending to be confused. “Oh… you mean my friend. He has a name you know—Isaac.”
Asher’s nostrils flare and his eyes darken with more anger and disbelief.
I smile sweetly at him and give Isaac’s arm a little pat before I straighten and square my shoulders. Not the least bit ashamed of my nudity. In fact, I’m hoping to use it as a distraction that will help me get us out of this mess.
If the others can’t look at me, they can’t stop me.
As if he can’t help himself, Asher’s eyes drop to my breasts. Searing over me and leaving me shivering with heat.
“Chloe,” Asher drags my name out as his gaze caresses over my body. Even at odds with him, I long for more than his eyes. I long for his touch. I long for his hands to grab me and stake his claim.
His eyes swing back up to my face. “Come to me.”
My foot immediately takes a step forward. The need to please him, to do as he commands and obey, instinctual and branded in the blood pumping through my veins.
Asher smiles, smug and pleased. His hands unclenching in anticipation.
If he didn’t smile that smug smile of his, I’d probably be too weak to resist his compulsion. I’d probably quickly close the distance between us and throw myself at him.