“That’s all very philosophical,” I whisper, “but you hadn’t transformed this much that day.”
“Then touch him any way you feel safe.”
“Yes, Mia, do your best,” Emrys drawls and it sounds so sarcastic the other two shoot him questioning glances.
I won’t let it hurt me. Both he and Jason, the two boys I allowed inside of me, that I became more intimate with than anyone else in my life before, now look at me like I’d be crazy to refuse, and Emrys… Emrys hates me.
I lift my chin. “No matter what, I will do my best. Ashton has been kind to me.”
“Remember that,” Emrys growls.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Jason shoves the demon boy back. “Someone piss in your fruit loops today?”
Emrys’ gaze is hot with anger. I swear I can feel it on the back of my neck as I turn toward Ashton. Jason says he can’t hear us, that he is too far gone into the shift. But even an animal responds well to gentleness and a soft-spoken voice, just as much as a human would.
“Ash,” I whisper. “Look at me, Ash. You know me.”
“Mia—” Sindri starts.
“Let her try,” Jason cuts him off. “We won’t let her get hurt, right?”
Emrys doesn’t reply and why does it feel like my heart is breaking?
God, get a grip, Mia. Get a grip, finally. Sex isn’t all that important when you get right down to it. So you lost your virginity. So what? Other girls have sex all the time.
Focus.
I could tell them I’m not a witch, but if I manage to pull Ashton back from the brink now it will be worth the try, no matter what I am.
“Ash.” I lean closer, braving his fearsome and also somehow cute presence—such a paradox, but Ashton is like that. A scholar and a dangerous vampire, a blood drinker and yet so human, a cute cat-boy but also a beast. “Ash.”
I touch his bare arm and something like an electric current seems to pass between us, making me gasp and causing him to jerk.
I don’t pull back, though, don’t lift my hand even as cold sweat runs down my back. “Ash,” I speak his name again, because names are important and have power. “Ronan Ashton Marais D’Aube.Ash.”
A low growl is the only sign he might have heard me, and the twitch of a black-tufted cat-ear in my direction.
Scary.
Also cute.
I want to throw my arms around him and hold him tight, take away his confusion, his pain, his problems. But that’s crazy thoughts, crazy feelings.
“You’re not alone,” I go on. “It may sound cheesy, but you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here. We’re here.”
Pulling his fingers out of the wet soil, he sits back, and it’s my turn to flinch when I see his hands. Those wicked claws. And the shape of his hands is… all wrong, the ring he always wears so tight it digs into his flesh.
His cat-eyes flick to me, then flick away. Does that mean he knows me? Is it vampire sign language for ‘hi’ when your hands are paws and your vocal cords are all wrong?
Well, he hasn’t tried to eat me yet, so I’m taking that as a win.
He doesn’t move. It’s as if he’s waiting for something to happen, aware of what is going on around him but also kind of trapped in the moment, in this half-state he’s in.
Skin-on-skin, right? It’s what seemed to make a difference with the others. Well, it doesn’t take a genius to understand how that might help. How many times did I feel like a wild animal, going insane within the four walls of my room without someone to hold me? So yes, I get it. Even without magic, it might help.
So I do what would have been unthinkable a few days ago. I take off my blouse, keeping on my skirt and undies, and scoot closer to him. I adjust my bra, making sure it covers what it’s supposed to cover, and I swear I can feel all their eyes on me like a hot caress on my skin. It makes me feel hot, too, makes my body react even if this moment isn’t sexual but only about bringing Ashton back to us.
He doesn’t lift his hands, doesn’t move a muscle as I put my arms around him and all but sit in his lap. Fear makes my heart pound, makes my mouth go dry, but stubbornly I cling to him as a shudder goes through his frame. I bury my face in his neck, smoosh my boobs against his hard chest, hold on to his broad shoulders.