Page 44 of Bite Back

DELILAH

The sun beats down on us as I meet Asher in the alleyway behind Hector’s a week after our meeting with Vlad. My skin tingles under the bright rays, and my eyes squint up at Asher from behind my dark sunglasses.

Asher shifts to the left, his broad form blocking out the sun and bathing me in shadow. I exhale.

“Thank you.”

A feline smile curls across his lips. “You’re welcome.” His smile fades and his eyes cloud. “Here’s the thing. I’m being assigned another case.”

I open my mouth, ready to protest, ready to leap in and demand he stay on Luka’s, but he raises a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m still on Luka’s case. But since it’s stretched on for so long, they’re allocating me to another, new, case too.”

I try to picture this mysterious they, the powers that be who get to decide namelessly, facelessly, something that affects everything I care about.

If Asher has another case, how many hours does that take away from looking for Luka?

How much harder will it be to find him with Asher’s attention split?

And what does it mean, them giving him another assignment?

Does that mean they think we’re going to fail?

“Hey, hey, hey.” Asher grabs my shoulder, reeling me in from my racing thoughts. His fingers slide along my collarbone and trace along my jaw, tilting my chin up so my gaze meets his. “I’m not going to stop looking. Not now, not until we find him. Not until it’s over.”

“Even if they take you off the case, I assume you’re not allowed to do a little recreational light vampire hunting.”

His head dips. “No.” He squares his shoulders. “Which is why I won’t let that happen.” His tone carries a note of finality.

I want his words to be true. I need his words to be true.

“Any luck with florist Vlad mentioned?”

He shakes his head.

Of course. Another dead end.

He draws me to him, and I bury my face against the soft fabric of his henley. His palm rubs circles on my shoulder, and I stifle a yawn.

“Sorry.” I brush my hair back from my face. “I’m exhausted. There’s only so much sleep you can get on a couch.”

“On a couch? You’re sleeping on a couch at Sarah’s?” There’s an edge to his voice.

“Yeah?” Not everyone can afford Asher’s loft. With luck, I’ll be able to scrape together enough funds for my own place soon.

“Stay with me.”

No. That’s my first thought. I can’t do commitment. Can’t handle the disappointment when it all falls apart. Not now that I’m invested.

It’s one thing to acknowledge and act on the attraction between us. But the idea of moving in together feels so much more official.

And that makes my stomach flip. With dread? With the thrill of it?

The temptation’s there. I stretch my neck to the side, cracks sounding. I could use a good night’s sleep. I really would love to stay with Praline.

And my roommate would be hot.

Asher thumps down my suitcase. He gestures at the small pile of my belongings—two suitcases and a lone cardboard box. “That everything?”

“There’s a backpack in the hall still.”

“Let me grab it.” Despite the distinct unpleasantness of moving in New York, suitcases rattling over the sidewalk and an endless stream of pedestrians bustling past, Asher’s worn a grin all afternoon as we trundled my meager belongings from Sarah’s apartment to his loft.

I rummage through the kitchen junk drawer for a pair of scissors to open the box. A small thump alerts me that Praline’s jumped on top and made herself at home, sprawled across the top.

I chuckle. “I’m going to need to open that. You can have it once I unpack.”

She meows indignantly as I displace her from the top of the box.

My ears prick. Another voice is conversing with Asher. “Girlfriend moving in, dear?”

I freeze.

“Yup.” Simple, confident, sure.

All the things I’m not. Not yet. Not so soon after Luka. My emotions feel numb, muffled, like I’m trapped under a sheet of ice.

Asher stands in the doorway, my backpack slung over his shoulder, eyes wide as he takes me in, frozen in front of the box, knife in hand. His brow furrows.

“We never talked about that.” My voice breaks. “You can’t decide that for me.”

Luka decided so much for me. His voice echoes in my head now. You’re ready. Was I?

Asher sinks the backpack to the floor and stalks toward me. This is the Asher I met at the club. The hunter, the predator. His hand goes to his hair, loosening his bun so his hair falls in his face.

“So let’s talk about it.” The ice inside me fractures, splinters apart. Because Asher’s not Luka. He meets me at my hesitation. He doesn’t push me over the edge.

I slide to the floor, hands tracing the wood grain. He lowers himself to join me.

Our shoulders brush against each other, his arm firm next to mine. Solid.

“I don’t want to make another mistake,” I whisper. In so many ways, we work. Our sense of humor. Our strength. Our determination. But that doesn’t change the details, the complications.

My mind replays that night at the club. The way his face froze when he discovered my fang.

I know he’s working out things with Claude.

I know we’re building whatever this is between us.

But I don’t think he’s over that, not really.

And I understand. I don’t know if the things that happened to him are things you can get over.

Praline situates herself in my lap, looking up at me with wide eyes. Asher reaches out to pet her.

“What he did, that’s on him. Not you.”

It’s true. But it also feels like what happened is all over me. Like I’ll never get past this. Not fully. Not really.

There’s no version of me, of my future self that isn’t shaped by Luka, by what he did.

“I’m scared.”

A chuckle leaves Asher’s lips. “Honestly, me too.”

Our admissions sit between us.

“But you sounded so confident when she asked?” I want that, that confidence. I want it for me. And I want him to feel it for me.

“The thing is…I think I’m scared because it matters. Because it will hurt if it doesn’t work out. Because I want it to work out.” There’s a logic to it that I can’t deny. A logic that tempts me to move forward despite the fear. But the sting of heartbreak still feels so fresh.

“I don’t know if I can handle the pain if it doesn’t work out.”

Asher scrapes his hands through his hair. “For me, I think not trying would hurt too. Already. I can’t tell you what’s right for you. But for me, I think it would be a mistake not to try.”

As soon as he says it, the rightness of his words settles over me. Sure, we haven’t gone all in. But I already care about Asher, I already am invested. So, for him, for me, for us, I’ll try. “And we’ll see what happens.”

He slings an arm around me. “And we’ll see what happens.”