Page 12 of Trick Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve)

Chapter

Five

ERYNN

“ W e’re completely fucked if we don’t figure out this power shift, aren’t we?” Ash asks, voice low, eyes scanning the trees like they’re hiding the next horror.

“Still freaking out over the zombie thing?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual, even though everything in me is stretched tight.

He gives me a look. Dry. Flat. Deadpan. Like I’ve just asked if water is wet.

“Okay, fair,” I mutter, and then— “Ow. Fuck!”

Pain lances up my foot. I stagger, biting down a hiss, and glance lower to find a small thorn in the side of my foot. I reach for it and pluck it out. Ash is there before I can blink, crouching, his hands already on me, checking my foot and pulling out another small thorn.

“I got it,” he says. Then he lifts me into his arms like I weigh nothing. I should protest that this is ridiculous, over the top, but instead I end up curled against his chest, his jacket around me and the warmth of his body seeping into mine.

“Romance novels lied,” I say against his throat. “They make barefoot forest wandering sound dreamy.”

His chest vibrates with a low laugh. He shifts me slightly in his arms, like he wants me closer. His fingers flex along my thigh, steadying me, but it feels like more than that. Like he wants me here. Like I belong.

“You okay?” he murmurs, and when I tilt my head, he’s already watching me.

Gods, that look.

It’s not just hunger. It’s not even just need. It’s that deep, captivated stare that has my lungs feeling too full, as though he’s trying to memorize every inch of me.

I remember the woods. His mouth on mine. His hands. The way he fucked me. My legs around his waist, the way I burned for him.

Did that really happen?

My body says yes. The ache between my thighs says yes. The wolf in me growls his agreement, rolling in contentment like he knows we were claimed in more than just instinct.

His gaze drops to my lips .

“You’re staring,” I whisper.

“You’re warm,” he says back as if that explains it. “And you smell like you’re mine.”

His jaw ticks, like he wants to kiss me again.

I don’t pull away.

Because in his arms, I don’t feel lost or confused. I feel safe.

And maybe that’s more dangerous than anything I’ve ever faced. I glance away before I burn up, taking in the forest.

“Oh!” I spot something glinting in the moonlight, desperate to shift the focus from the ache behind Ash’s eyes. “My shoe!”

It’s one of my heels, somehow miraculously still intact. The strap is caked in mud, and there’s something dark dried across the sole, but it’s there. The other lies a few feet away, looking like a corpse on a battlefield. Fitting, honestly.

Ash stops walking and lowers me to my feet before he crouches and picks them up, turning them over in his hands.

“These are completely impractical.”

“They weren’t meant for running from the undead,” I say. “They are made to make my legs look good.”

His eyes flick up, sharp and unwavering. “Your legs are spectacular without them.”

“You’re flirting with me while holding my shoes? ”

“Is it working?”

I only grin as he scoops me back into his arms and keeps on walking. We’re near the edge of the woods now, the cracked stone path ahead with moonlight reflected in pale streaks. He sets me down again and kneels in front of me, still holding the shoes.

“Foot.”

“I can put them on myself.”

“Foot.” That voice. That tone. It’s not a request. It’s a command.

I mutter something under my breath but lift my foot anyway, steadying myself with one hand on his shoulder. He’s warm through the fabric. Solid. My mind flashes back to his body over mine in the trees, breath against my throat, his weight pinning me perfectly.

“Focus,” he murmurs without looking up.

I bite my lip.

He fits the heel gently to my foot, fingers adjusting the strap with far too much precision for a man who can break ribs with a single punch. His thumb brushes against the arch of my ankle. I shiver.

He repeats the process with the other shoe, his hands lingering again. When he finishes, he doesn’t rise. Just stays there. Kneeling in front of me, breathing shallow, jaw tight. The moon highlights the cuts and dried blood on his face.

“We look like hell,” I say, trying to break the quiet. “ Me in your oversized jacket, you looking like you got dragged through several levels of monster-infested hell.”

“It’s Halloween,” he says, but the words sound like someone else is speaking through him. “Old tradition said humans wore masks to scare away spirits. We’ll just say these are our costumes. You’re a half-naked forest witch. I’m a warrior who lost a fight with a sentient bramble.”

His head cants slightly, like he’s tracking something only he can sense. His lips move, soundless… There’s a flicker of pain in his expression so sharp it slices through the moment. I feel it like a needle under my skin.

“Who are you talking to? A ghost?” I ask, all too familiar with spirits turning up at the most inopportune times.

He doesn’t look at me, but something shifts, and he stands up from his crouching position. A tension unwinds in his shoulders, his jaw slackening for just a breath before his entire body slumps—like someone cut his strings.

“It’s Mikael in ghost form, my best friend, my second-in-command,” he reveals roughly. “Don’t tell him, but I miss him so fucking much.”

The words splinter on their way out. He presses his fists against his sides, his back bowed as tremors ripple through him. Silent grief, the kind that eats people alive from the inside out.

“I lost a handful of my pack that night,” he mutters. “Mikael was the closest thing I had to a brother. And I let him die.”

“Ash—”

“He called my name while the enemy pack tore him apart,” he says, his voice going dead flat. “And I didn’t go. I stayed where I was. Held the line. Watched him fall.”

Silence stretches between us, the forest holding its breath, as though even the trees know not to interrupt.

“You had to make a choice,” I whisper, reaching for him. “You stayed for the others?—”

“Don’t,” he snaps. But it’s not cruel. It’s cracked glass. “Don’t forgive me. Not yet.”

His head finally turns. His eyes lock on mine. They’re piercing, amber, haunted, as if he’s trying to brand this moment into both of us. And maybe he is. Maybe he’s trying to make me find the monster he believes he is.

But all I see is a man unraveling, holding too much pain in too little space.

I move closer, sliding behind him and wrapping my arms around his body. “I’ve only known you for a night,” I murmur against his shoulder, “but I’ve seen enough to know you don’t need punishment. You need someone to stay. ”

He breathes deeply. Then he exhales, and his whole body shudders.

“Mikael thinks I’m an idiot for blaming myself,” he states finally. “Says saving the kids was worth it. Says he would’ve made the same call. Then he makes it weird and says that you have a nice ass.”

I blink. “Wait, what?”

“He’s still here,” Ash says dryly. “Still annoying. Still has no boundaries.”

“I—well—tell him thank you, but if he tries to float at me suggestively, I’m calling a priest.”

“He says that you blush easily, and I have to agree.”

I shove at his shoulder. “Your dead best friend is hitting on me?”

“Vigorously.” He chuckles and turns to face me, both of us standing so close that his breath washes over my cheek.

“Never tried kicking a ghost in the balls. But I’m willing to find out what happens if I do.”

That earns me a low laugh. It slips through his teeth like he forgot how to make the sound.

“Otherwise, how are you dealing with… my power?” I ask, softer now. “And not having your wolf?”

His gaze meets mine like he’s weighing how much to give me.

“It’s like I’m an empty vessel,” he admits. “Like he’s just behind a wall I can’t break through.”

I watch his throat bob as he swallows hard .

“Your wolf misses you,” I whisper.

Ash goes still. His gaze darkens.

His voice is low. “You feel his emotions too?”

I nod.

He glances away for a moment. “The first time I changed, I was thirteen. Got lost in the ravine during a storm, soaked through, scared shitless. Thought I was going to die. But then… it happened. The shift. Bones snapped, skin tore—and it should’ve been agony, but it was right.”

He pauses.

“I remember the first breath I took in wolf form. How sharp everything was. The scents. The sounds. The freedom. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I wasn’t alone.”

My chest tightens.

“That was the night I knew,” he continues. “I’d kill for my pack. Protect them. Lead them, if I had to. Not because I wanted power. But because they mattered.”

His words scream loyalty, pride, and violence just under the surface, held in check by the love he has for the wolves that follow him.

“I admire that,” I admit. “You lead like it’s a sacred duty.”

He studies me again, this time with something raw flickering behind his gaze. “You don’t scare easily, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you.”

A slow smirk touches his lips. It fades quickly .

“What’s it like?” he asks. “Your magic. Because right now it feels like I’ve got a live wire running through my whole body. Every nerve is humming. And I feel so much colder than usual.”

I snort. “And the sensation of having something alive inside me feels freaky.”

He chuckles as if he agrees. A dark sound, low in his throat, and it does something to me. My toes curl inside my heels.

His hand finds mine again, fingers threading through like he owns it. As if he owns me. His grip is firm. Possessive. And when we step onto the stone path, he pulls me closer to his side.

“I’m not letting you get away from me,” he murmurs, voice hot against my ear.

My pulse skitters. I don’t pull away.

Because part of me doesn’t want to be anywhere but at his side.

And the wolf inside me? He’s already home.