Page 22 of The Enemy to the Living (The Wild Hunt #2)

Quinn

E verything hurts. Even places I didn’t know could hurt, and I groan before I open my eyes.

When Asher’s bedroom swims into view, I’m not surprised. No. I prod at the strange sensation in my chest. I’m relieved, maybe even a little pleased to be here.

I turn my head—biting back another groan as the movement tugs on some unseen bruise—and look at him. His face is slack on the pillow next to mine, and even in sleep he’s holding himself stiffly, away from me.

Fuck, I must have been a sight last night. This morning? Ugh, who knows. All I know is that everything still hurts, and Sorrel was fuming, and even if they can’t take my wolf without voiding the deal, they can hurt me in other ways.

The worst part is, I’d been excited when two trolls had entered the cage. I’d ignored the fact that the kelpie who rallies all the fighters looked concerned, and I’d ignored the way the entire crowd seemed surprised because I’d wanted more bodies to fight, more blood smeared across my knuckles.

I raise one hand and look at it now. When I curl my fingers, the raw wounds still throb and I scowl.

Fuck healing slowly. I’m hardly healing at all. I think even a human would feel less pain than this the next day.

Sorrel ordered the kelpie to keep them in there. I saw that. I’d been winning, for a moment, but then I’d felt something strange—some weird tug I couldn’t place—and they’d caught me off guard and knocked me down.

The kelpie had called the fight in their favour. Sorrel had told her not to let us out. He told them not to stop.

I huff and close my eyes again, wondering if I might fall back to sleep. I want to. Despite everything, I feel better rested after the few hours I’ve just had than I do after a full night at my place, which is probably because I never get a full night’s sleep there at all.

Maybe it’s just because I’m injured. Maybe it’s because Asher used magic on me. He did, didn’t he? I remember that.

I open my eyes and look at him again. He’s shirtless, and the duvet has slipped down to his waist. I trace the outline of balanced scales on his left shoulder, then the stars that trail down his bicep.

Most of his chest is covered, my eyes lingering on an open hand with an eye staring up from its palm, but there’s a large empty space on the left, over his heart.

Idly, I wonder what he could fill it with.

Maybe it’s because of him.

Something blooms in my stomach. It’s not an entirely unfamiliar feeling, but still one that takes me by surprise because of how visceral it is, how it cuts through the fog I’ve been living in.

I want him.

I’m not surprised by that, just by the intensity of it. I’ve hardly had the energy to notice a hot guy since… everything, and I’ve not been healing mentally or emotionally, not really, but maybe it’s been long enough that those urges have reappeared all the same.

But the way my stomach flutters, heart quickening when Asher groans and shifts, rolling slightly towards me as he begins to wake up…

Fuck. He called me pup. He’s a member of the Hunt, and he must think I’m no more than a child, and—

“Morning,” Asher says before he even opens his eyes. His voice is deep and rough, and he rubs a hand over his face, fingers scratching over dark blond stubble. An embarrassing whimper escapes me before I can even think to stop it.

Immediately, Asher’s eyes snap open. He takes me in with a glance, brow furrowing.

“Is it the pain? Where hurts?”

Pain? Yeah, I can still feel the way everything aches, but that’s secondary to this sudden desire clawing its way up my throat. I suck in a shallow breath and Asher reaches out gently, resting a hand on my chest.

“Breathe, Quinn,” he murmurs. “Everything’s okay. You’re safe here.”

I know that. Fuck, I know that. And I’m not wearing my T-shirt—I took it off last night, I think—so his hand is scorching hot against my skin.

Asher closes his eyes, brow furrowed in concentration, and then his touch tingles, warmth spreading through my body, sweeping away the pain.

I take another breath. Another. The pain being gone, for now, means that I’m just more aware of how close he is, how every breath fills my lungs with his scent, how I want to—

I jerk back and Asher’s eyes open again.

“Okay?” he asks. He watches me warily. He doesn’t want to spook me.

He’s helped me more than anyone else I know these past few weeks. Oh, maybe I’ll think about it later and spend hours dwelling on the fact that that’s not their fault, that I’ve been pushing everyone away, but Asher—

He pushed back. He keeps pushing back.

“Quinn,” Asher says, and there’s a slightly frantic edge to his voice now. “Are you okay? Please, give me something.”

Something? Heat floods through me, and I lean in and press our mouths together before I can think better of it.

Asher goes entirely still. I move my mouth slowly, and all I can hear is blood rushing in my ears. His exhale shakes against my lips. When he raises his hands, I think he’s going to push me away, and my cheeks heat, embarrassment rising, but—

He hooks one around the nape of my neck and kisses me back. Our lips move together, gentle and slow, and his other hand sweeps up my side, goosebumps following in its wake. I reach for him in turn, my hands too greedy as they dig into his skin.

Asher groans. I slide my tongue into his mouth, and he tightens the hand at my nape, inhaling sharply. Fuck. If I only get this once, I want it to be enough. And aside from all the thoughts I’m having of him, my mind is so silent. So peaceful.

I don’t want this to ever end.

It does. Of course it does. Asher sucks on my tongue first, and the moan I let out is broken, but when I shuffle towards him on the bed, he slows the kiss. He pulls back with his eyes closed, then presses his lips to the corner of my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and all those exciting, fluttering feelings in my stomach sink into nausea. I let out a plaintive whine and Asher sighs, then kisses that same spot again.

“Asher,” I plead. I don’t know what I’m pleading for. He won’t fuck me, not injured as I am, and I don’t think I really want him to.

I just don’t want him to let go.

Asher opens his eyes again. He studies me seriously, and all I can cling to is the fact that he hasn’t let go and hasn’t asked me to let go, either. Not yet.

“You’re hurt,” he says, “and even if you weren’t…”

“What?”

“You’re young,” Asher says with an apologetic grimace.

I scowl. “I’m an adult.”

“I know.”

His jaw has a stubborn set to it, and I wonder how no one in the Hunt knows he’s a wolf, but then I think maybe they’re all as stubborn as each other.

“I kissed you,” I point out.

Asher’s cheeks go pink and for a dizzying moment, his gaze drops to my mouth. When he forces it back up again, I can’t help my smile. “I know,” he groans.

“You’re not taking advantage. I just wanted…”

“Wanted what?”

“I haven’t felt that for a while. And then, I did. I wanted to see if I could still feel it.”

“Feel what?”

I lick my lips and swallow before I speak again. Asher traces every movement, attention rapt. “Desire.”

He groans. “Fuck, Quinn.”

“I’m not asking you for anything.”

“I know, pup.”

“But if you’re worried about my age, I don’t know who else you really have to choose from.”

“What?”

My lips twitch. “Well, aren’t you, like, really old? Being a member of the Hunt and all?”

Asher blinks at me, apparently caught entirely off guard, and then a laugh bursts out of him, making the bed shake. I find myself laughing, too, and when the laughter dies, he’s a little closer and he kisses me gently, lips lingering.

“I’m not that old.”

“I’m not worried about it.”

He doesn’t tell me there’s nothing between us.

We both know better than that. And this conversation—so far removed from everything that’s been dogging my life for the past year, if not longer—is the exact balm I need.

I run my fingers over the stars on his bicep, fingers dancing from one to the next, and he props his chin up on one arm, watching me.

“I know you can’t tell me what happened,” he says and strokes his fingers over my ribs when I go still, “but we’re going to deal with it. With them. They won’t take your wolf.”

I swallow hard. Does this count as talking about it? Maybe not—I’ve said nothing, and it’s not like Asher’s asking me any questions. He already knows all he needs to. He’s smart enough to figure out the rest.

He lies down again, this time pressed up against my side, and when his arm goes around my middle, I sigh. I’m a million miles away from all my worries. That’s where I want to stay.

I doze for a while, turning into Asher’s embrace at some point so my face ends up pressed against his chest. I don’t think he sleeps. His fingers stroke through my hair, gently rubbing my scalp, and he’s careful to avoid the bump on the back of my head that slowly starts throbbing again.

Eventually, my stomach rumbles. My bladder is full, too. I need to climb out of this warm little cocoon we’re in, but I really, really don’t want to.

When I sit up, Asher groans. “Quinn…”

I smile down at him, and it already feels flatter than before. He sees it. He kisses my bare shoulder and sits up, too.

“You have to go? I can make breakfast.” He turns to glance at his phone. “Lunch.”

“No, I should go,” I say. I’ll have to be careful to get home without anyone seeing, but at least if Sam senses me pass through the wards, they’ll all know I’m there. I stay out all day, there’ll only be more questions later.

I know I’m running on borrowed time. Kieran’s patience isn’t unending, and it’s his right as my alpha to demand my presence, especially if he’s worried.

If he’s worried.

Mood definitely soured, I get out of bed and cast around for my things. Asher climbs out too, lazily scratching his stomach before he drags on a pair of jogging bottoms. I watch him, my throat dry.

That’s the other thing. Whatever he’s awoken in me isn’t going back to sleep. I stay here much longer, then I might push him too far, and I’m not about to risk that.

“C’mon,” he says. “I think I just abandoned everything downstairs.”

Sure enough, my T-shirt is lying on the floor next to the table, my shoes over by the door. Asher presses a glass of water into my hands before I can get my shoes on, and when faced with his concerned expression, I drink it greedily.

“Thanks.”

“You should eat, Quinn.”

“I will. When I get back.”

He wants me to stay, and that has my stomach all aflutter again. Likely he’s right about the age difference. And I’m… going through it. Something. We wouldn’t last five minutes if this were a good idea, which it isn’t.

But I put my shoes on, and when I turn, Asher crowds me up against the wall, planting one hand on either side of my head. He’s not quite as tall as I am, but he doesn’t have to be—I go pliant anyway, waiting for him to make a move.

“I know they’ve got you trapped,” Asher says, and when I realise he’s talking about the twins, I scowl, but he shakes his head. “No. I’m not asking for—I’m saying that I’m going to help you, Quinn. Whether you like it or not.”

I can’t tell him. I can’t . He doesn’t push for more information, though, just goes to move away, and I grab him by the hips because he’s still not wearing a shirt I can twist my fingers into.

“What if I don’t need your help?” I ask, hackles raised, but he doesn’t seem offended by the question. His face moves in closer until our foreheads press together. We’re breathing the same air. All I can take in is him.

“I never said you did. But if you want it, you have it. And if you don’t…” He breathes a laugh. “You have it, anyway.”

I kiss him again, and he lets me, tangles a hand in my hair as he kisses me back. It’s more desperate than the kiss upstairs, both of us holding less back, but the whole thing is still over far quicker than I’d like.

Asher lets go of me and steps out of reach. “I’ll see you soon,” he says, and the words sound like a promise.

“Yeah, okay. Soon.”

I’m in a bit of a daze as I make my way back home. I hold on to one of the metal poles on the tube, swaying with the train’s movement, and go over this morning in my mind again and again.

Hope . It’s far too dangerous a feeling, but it’s already taken up residence in my chest, despite my best efforts. Asher’s been looking out for me for a while, hasn’t he? He wanted me to stay for lunch. He wants to spend time with me.

He sees more than some helpless, broken wolf.

He sees through my anger, too. The thought makes my face hot, as does the memory of our kisses, and I wonder if I might send him a text tonight, if I’m not fighting, and see if he’s free.

I know he and the Hunt are investigating the twins, but he seems to be on a pretty nocturnal schedule, so maybe I can visit him again near sunrise…

The building is silent when I step inside, and when I take a breath, I pick up the stale scents of people coming in and out.

My nose seems a little more sensitive than it did yesterday, but whatever Asher did to ease the pain of my injuries is wearing off, so I’m not sure if I’m getting more in touch with my wolf again or if I’m just on alert because I’m hurting.

Doesn’t matter. I hold my side as I make my way up the stairs, pausing on the landing. I can’t hear anything from any of the flats. Lucien and Adam will be in but resting. The others might be out. Might be sleeping.

I inch past, letting out a relieved breath when no one looks out.

Fuck. Everything hurts again. I’ll have a shower once I’m in, see if I can sleep more of it off.

Painkillers are useless for a wolf, but I might give them a try anyway; if I’m not healing well, maybe I won’t burn them straight out of my system, either.

I unlock the door to my flat and my plans immediately go up in smoke.

Someone’s sitting on the sofa. I already know who it is before I raise my eyes and take him in.

Drew. His shoulders draw in when our eyes meet, like he knows he shouldn’t be here, but in the next instant, he’s on his feet, expression horrified as he takes a deep breath.

Fuck.

“Did Asher hurt you?”