Chapter 5 _ Asher
Chapter Five
ASHER
"Slow down. Not everyone here is a vampire," I called as Father Sylvester strode down the darkened hallway.
His long legs ate up the space at double the length mine did, but add to that his preternatural speed, and he was halfway down the hall while I trailed behind, forgotten.
"Walk faster, and we won't have a problem."
God, he was surly. And he smelled divine. Why did a priest need to smell so good?
We left the main hall and headed down a set of stairs that led into the bowels of the building. The air shifted to damp and heavy, the scent of earth and age filling my nose. We reached a doorway marked with his name, simple and unassuming, befitting a man of the cloth.
"Come in and kneel at the altar, Miss Callaway."
"Excuse me?" Kneel? He expected me to kneel?
"You heard me. Inside, on your knees. We have work to do."
"Listen, you're hot and all, but I'm not getting on my knees for you. I hardly know you."
And he was hot. God, was he ever. Tall and broad, but not bulky with exaggerated muscle. His understated black shirt and pants molded to his body just enough that I could easily watch the play of his assets as he walked in front of me. I’d never understood the desire to bounce a quarter off a man’s ass, but I’ll admit, he made me curious.
Suddenly embarrassed by the direction my thoughts had taken regarding a man who’d married the Lord, I cleared my throat and forced myself to lift my gaze.
Father Sylvester was staring at me. His nostrils flared angrily, and his intense, sapphire eyes bore deep into mine. “Well?” he demanded.
I blinked, having completely lost the thread of our conversation. He must have kept going while I’d been lost to my musings. What had we been talking about? Oh, right. He wanted to get me on my knees. Frankly, in a different situation, I might have considered it. All that smoldering intensity wrapped up in a delicious, completely forbidden package? That’s an altar I could worship at.
“I was just wondering where your collar was,” I lied, making my feet resume their hurried steps as I moved into what I’d assumed was his office, but turned out to be a little chapel.
“Only priests wear collars.”
My steps faltered again. “But I thought . . . he called you Priest?”
“That was a long time ago.”
I gestured to the flickering candles and the not-insubstantial crucifix hanging on the wall. “So what’s all this, then? Sort of a weird decorating choice for a vampire, don’t you think?”
His jaw tensed, and I could tell the time for questions had passed. Not that I thought it had ever actually started.
“I gave you an order, Miss Callaway. Obey it.”
“I’m not in the habit of taking orders from bloodsucking leeches.”
Oops. Wrong thing to say.
His eyes flashed dangerously. “And I am not in the habit of repeating myself.” He grabbed me by the back of the neck and forced me to the cold tile. “On. Your. Knees.”
My body obeyed without question, folding easily under the pressure of his vise-like grip. I’m not sure what it said about me that I pressed my thighs a little tighter together, his rough manhandling and the dangerous cast of his voice setting off a low throb in my core.
He released me at once, moving to stand just off to the left. “Your problem, Miss Callaway, is that you are undisciplined.”
“You could tell all that after just a few minutes in my presence, huh?”
His eyes tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait.
“I am going to teach you mastery over yourself. Once you learn how to quiet your mind and focus, it should be no problem for you to summon your wolf.”
“You think meditation is the answer to the last twenty-three years of my life? Just like that?” I laughed, a low scathing rumble that bounced around the room. “Let me save you a lot of time and frustration, preacher. Been there. Done that.” I shifted on my knees, intending to rise, but he was there, his hand on my shoulder, holding me in place.
“I never said it would be easy, Miss Callaway. Clearly you lack the mental fortitude required for such introspection. But lucky for you, I am well-versed in all matters of self-control and self-discipline. I have no doubt we will persevere with time and intense study. Your grandfather has paid handsomely to ensure it.”
His insults were delivered so silkily I could almost mistake them for casual conversation. Especially since my mind wanted to focus on the idea of what discipline at Father Sylvester’s hand might look like. But the mention of my grandfather sent those thoughts scattering.
There it was again. The reminder of why I was here. Of what a consummate failure I was.
This guy—this priest—thought he could succeed where literally everyone else had failed? Fine. Let him try. What’s the worst that could happen? Eventually he’d admit defeat, and I’d just be right back where I started. But, if by some miracle he was right and there was some little trick he could teach me, I’d finally get the one thing I’d been fiercely wishing for since I was old enough to understand what wishes were.
My wolf. My birthright.
I shifted uncomfortably. Kneeling was hardly the most demanding thing I’ve had to do, but the tile was unyielding beneath my kneecaps, and there was already a little ache building at the base of my spine.
“A little pain is good for the body. It keeps the mind sharp.”
I raised a brow. “If you think I’m going to let you start beating me—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Why did I get the feeling he’d omitted the word yet? And why did my protestation sound like such a lie?
“So what am I supposed to do now?”
“Now you will close your eyes and—”
“Pray?” I quipped. “Sorry, Father. I don’t think the big guy is going to listen to a heathen like me.”
“Miss Callaway, you are going to shut your mouth and do as you're told. Do I make myself clear? If that proves to be challenging for you, I will have no problem removing the temptation.”
“How? You going to gag me, Father? I didn’t realize priests were so kinky—”
“Silence!” he snarled, his movements so fast I didn’t realize he’d put his hand over my mouth until the delicious scent of him wafted up my nose.
If I’d thought the tile was unforgiving, it had nothing on the steel of Father Sylvester’s hand fused over my mouth. I couldn’t open it if I wanted to. And I did. But whether to bite him or lick him, I wasn’t sure. Both ideas were equally tempting.
He tilted my chin back so I was looking up at him. The dominance of his position, combined with the barely restrained power of his grip and the vulnerable bearing of my throat, had unease and something else skittering through my veins. Something I wasn’t ready to examine too closely.
“You will not speak until I tell you to. Blink if you understand.”
Once again, I obeyed, my body hardwired to follow his commands when delivered in that deep, resonant tone.
“Good, Miss Callaway. Now, when I let you go, you’re going to close your eyes and empty your mind. Errant thoughts will try to distract you. You will silence them. You will embrace the discomfort of your body and dismiss it. For the next ninety minutes, you will focus only on the sound of your breathing.”
I wanted to snort. My mind was not a quiet place. I wouldn’t last nine minutes, let alone ninety. But he wouldn’t let me up until I at least pretended to try. So I blinked.
“It’s good to see that you’re a fast learner, Miss Callaway. That bodes well.”
He released me. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination when I felt his hand slide down the front of my throat and hesitate a little longer than necessary at my collarbone before he returned to his position in front of me.
“Now, close your eyes . . .” he said, his voice still holding the edge of command, but lower and more soothing this time, “and breathe.”
“I can’t,” I whispered.
“You can and you will.”
Sweat trickled down the back of my neck, between my shoulder blades, and slid all the way down until it reached my bra. Could he tell? Did he know I was about to break? This was the third night in a row I’d been on my knees, meditating.
Something about Father Sylvester being present had me hyperaware of his focus on me, even if my eyes were closed. I knew he was watching. Judging.
Breaths came in short gasps as the intensity of my focus left me trembling. I fought the urge to sob from the effort of holding this position. Pain spiked up from my knees, needles stabbing me over and over with every slight twitch of my muscles. Then his scent overwhelmed me as his palm rested on the crown of my head. “Quiet your mind, a stor. You are tense and fighting your own thoughts.”
On instinct, I opened my eyes and locked gazes with deep sapphire blue pools. He was close. So close I could have kissed him if I’d wanted to. “How do you know what I’m doing? You’re not in here with me.”
A rumble rolled through the room, coming from his throat, but he didn’t look away. “Fall into my gaze and let me in.”
“No.”
“You’ll do as I say, Miss Callaway. If you know what’s good for you.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
“You’re reckless. A petulant child, just like your grandfather said you’d be.”
Anger burst through me, a fireball escaping from the depths of my chest. “Fucking right. Petulant. A disappointment. A waste of space. You name it, he’s hurled it at me.”
My gaze flicked away from his because I couldn’t take another second being a prisoner of his focus. But he gripped my face with both large palms and forced my attention back to him.
“Let go of me, Father.”
“Jericho,” he said, his voice rough. Those dark brows were furrowed, pulled together in a pained expression as confusion and conflict warred for control of his face. “Call me Jericho when my hands are on you.”
I swallowed hard, unsure of what exactly was happening here. “Jericho. Let me go.”
He did, his hands falling away as though I’d burned him. “Now. Close your eyes and take hold of all of that anger. Harness it. Open yourself.”
I did. I took a long, slow breath, and even though he wasn’t touching me anymore, my skin burned from where his fingers had pressed against my cheeks. In all the time we’d been working on this, he had resisted touching me, save for that first time when he’d forced me to the ground and held his hand over my mouth. Until tonight. The darkness that greeted me when my eyes were shut faded away and gradually lightened to a soft blue before fading further until it turned a brilliant white. I gasped.
“What are you doing to me, Jericho?”
He had to clear his throat before he answered. “It’s not me, Miss Callaway. This is you.”
“Can you see it?”
“No.”
The light behind my eyes flashed so bright I was afraid I’d go blind if I didn’t look away, but I couldn’t. There was no way to escape what was in my own mind. I whimpered and fell forward, Jericho catching me before I hit the hard stone floor.
Resting my forehead on his chest, I forced myself to control my breathing and stop the tremors racking my body before I finally backed away. “What did you do to me?”
“You’re opening to your wolf.” He stiffened and shot to standing faster than I could track. I reached for him, but he blurred across the room before I could close the distance between us.
“What?”
“You . . . your knees are bloodied.”
“That’s what happens when you force a girl to spend ninety minutes on her knees while wearing a skirt three nights in a row.”
He clenched his jaw and forced his gaze away from the blood. And then I understood. “Oh. You want to taste me. Is that what this is, Father?”
He was murmuring something softly, eyes closed, a deep line between his eyebrows, forged in concentration. Then he stopped and flicked his focus back to me. “That’ll be all for tonight, Miss Callaway. Tomorrow night we will resume.”
“But—”
“That’s enough! Leave me.”
His shout startled me. All this time, even when he’d been angry with me, he’d kept his tone measured and soft. This was a man on the edge.
“You know, you might be hot, but I’m not really a fan of being abused and treated like shit, so I think I’m done with these sessions, Padre. Have a nice eternity. See you never.”
I brushed past him, reaching for the door, but his fingers encircled my wrist and pulled me close. “You’ll see me when I tell you. You want to be rid of me? Do the work. Find your wolf. Then I’ll free you from my attentions.”
I rolled my eyes and broke the hold he had on me, though I knew with his strength he could’ve shattered every bone in my wrist with one squeeze if he wanted. “What will you do if I don’t show up? Spank me, Daddy?”
No reaction. The man was a statue carved of stone. Except for that slight twitch in the fingers of his left hand. Barely noticeable, but there. I opened the door and strode outside, but not before he whispered, “Don’t tempt me.”
That night I fell into my bed in an exhausted heap, my downy blanket and pillows cradling my aching body like the softest cloud. I vaguely heard Maeve saying goodbye as she snuck out to meet up with some witch named Kate.
“Don’t forget to use protection,” I called half-heartedly.
Maeve ’s laughter chased her out of the door as my eyes lost the battle to stay open.
Usually, I needed to run at least a few miles to wear myself out enough to even try to sleep. My mind was always too active at night, my body restless. Not tonight. But my exhaustion wasn’t due to running my limbs so hard they burned. This was my entire being. My soul. Jericho and what he’d helped me unlock. Whenever I’d mention my insomnia to my grandfather, he just blamed the absence of my wolf. I never thought he was right until now.
As if triggered by the reminder, his gruff voice reverberated in my mind, “Find her, Asher, and you’ll sleep like a pup.”
Cool, Gramps. Thanks for that heartwarming and inspiring chat. I never actually said that part out loud, of course. That would have earned me a world of hurt and humiliation. And I’d already had more than enough of that to go around. But seriously, did everybody just assume I wasn’t trying?
What shifter in their right mind wants to be the lone member of the pack that can’t manage to do what they were born to do? I was left alone when the rest of them went out to run under the full moon. I was forced to sit by myself and remain on the outskirts because others thought my defect might be catching. I was the one whose mother didn’t even love her enough to keep her in the first place.
Yeah, being wolfless was fucking great. A real treat.
Here she is, everybody. Asher No-Wolf Callaway. Take a good look at the freak. Pity her. Mock her. Hate her for something completely out of her control.
I whimpered on the bed, the old pains and familiar taunts closer to the surface than they had been in years. It was like whatever had happened while I was back in that chapel had shaken loose the stronghold I tried to keep around that part of myself. The sad little girl who didn’t understand what she’d done so wrong to make her mommy leave and get her daddy sent away.
My grandfather’s voice continued to echo in my mind, even as I tried to push it away. “Find her, Asher. Find her.”
The transition between waking and dreaming was seamless. My thoughts blurred and melded, the feel of the bed fading away until I simply floated in a sea of consciousness. Gone was the pain from my body. The hurt in my heart. Everything was suddenly, blissfully quiet.
Until it wasn’t.
At first, I didn’t register the stirrings. The little rumbles that sounded like thunder, or maybe a bunch of wild horses galloping in the distance. But then they grew closer until they were impossible to ignore. They tugged at me. Demanded my attention. Forced me to listen.
My consciousness narrowed, focusing on the sound until it was no longer rumbling but a voice brushing against the barrier of my mind. It drew across my skin like raw silk. Unsettling and wonderful at the same time.
“There you are.”
“W-wolf?” I guessed.
“No, my daughter.”
“Mom?” The impossibility of it should have torn me straight out of the dream, but there was a truth, a heaviness to the words that lies never quite matched. More than that, there was a familiarity in that warm, husky tone that called to me on a fundamental level. I’d never heard the voice before, but part of me recognized it.
“I’ve tried to reach you, but the shields around you were too strong until now.”
“What shields?”
“Oh, my daughter, there are so many things I wish to tell you. But I haven’t much time. Know that I tried to protect you. To place you in the care of those who could keep you safe. But they’ve found you. They’re coming for you. You need to unlock your power; it is the only way you will survive. Embrace what makes you feel strong. Give into it. Do not let them deny you your birthright. Do not let them make you weak.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They hate you, daughter, for what you are. They will kill you if given the chance. Do not let them. Do not fight the pull of who you were born to be.”
“Who? Who wants to kill me?”
“I must go.”
“No. Don’t go. Wait. I have so many questions.”
The rumbles returned, this time the dull roars fading until I was once more floating in that sea of consciousness. Drifting. Existing.
Fading away until I was nothing at all.