Chapter 8 _ Asher
Chapter Eight
ASHER
The sun’s rays beamed in through the window at the end of the hall, bathing me in light and casting my walk of shame in stark relief as I skulked down the hallway and reached the door to my room.
“Oh, my God, there you are. We’ve been looking all over.” Maeve’s voice caught me off guard as my fingers touched the doorknob.
My head snapped to the right, where I stared down the hall. She stood, her acid green asymmetrical bob nearly glowing in the light spilling through the window. A hulking god of a man stood next to her. His eyes were framed by full, dark lashes, the irises blue, vibrant, and piercing even from a distance. His complexion was tanned from hours spent in the sun, and his dirty blond hair was pulled up into a bun, with a thick, full beard lining his chiseled jaw. He looked like sin and sex and every fantasy I’d ever had about being rescued by a handsome warrior.
“I . . . had a nightmare. Went for a walk.”
I opened the door and stepped inside my room, where I found our small space ransacked. Clothes were strewn around, drawers hanging open, papers everywhere. “What the hell happened in here? You really are a slob.”
Maeve shook her head, hands on her hips as she followed me inside. “I didn’t do this. Do you really think I would treat vintage Chanel like this?”
I stared her down, the argument on my lips before she finished.
She had the grace to look embarrassed. “Except for that first day. That doesn’t count.”
“And who are you?” I jerked my chin toward the Viking man leaning against the open door.
Smirking in a way that made his ice-blue eyes sparkle, he said, “Cian Mackenzie. And you’re the famous Asher Callaway. You’ve got the whole university buzzing, you know?”
His accent was hard to place. It sounded British, but with occasionally clipped words that reminded me of the time a Norwegian shifter pack came to my grandfather’s house for a visit.
“Mackenzie? Scandinavian?”
That smirk widened. “Novasgardian.”
Interesting. Very interesting. I’d heard of them. Norse gods came from Novasgard, but they didn’t leave. They kept to themselves for the most part. If Cian was here, making contacts, learning to be an ambassador, that meant things were shifting. The thought of Norse gods joining our world, taking a more active role, made me nervous. There was already plenty of supernatural dick swinging going on between the vampires, shifters, witches, and fae. We didn’t need to add gods to the mix.
“Don’t tell me you’re the God of Thunder.”
Laughter rumbled from deep in his chest, making me feel foolish immediately. “Not thunder, no.”
“Wait, are you a god of something?”
“I suppose you’ll have to figure that out on your own, won’t you, Ashy?”
Maeve tossed a shoe at him, missing by about a mile. “Leave her alone, Cian.” She turned her gaze on me. “I’m glad you’re not kidnapped. When we came home and saw the place was ransacked, I freaked.”
“Aw, you worried? You do care after all,” I teased.
She pretended to be unaffected, but couldn’t hide her grin. “It’s bad luck to be the one with the murdered roomie.”
I held out my hands. “Not murdered.”
“So where were you?”
“In a creepy vampire’s lair.”
Cian’s brows rose. “By choice?”
“Apparently he found me unconscious in the forest.” My voice was low as I fought the mortification of admitting I’d been asleep in the woods—and not on purpose.
“Oh, you can’t be serious. Sleepwalking wasn’t one of the categories I checked when selecting my roommate.” Maeve flopped down on her clothes-covered bed.
“Well, smart-ass wasn’t one of the ones I checked, so it looks like we’re even,” I shot back.
“Do you two want me to leave you alone to fight it out, or . . .” Cian offered.
“Wait,” I said. “I thought you were into girls.” I locked my gaze on Maeve .
Maeve nodded. “I am.”
“But you’re out with this guy all night?”
“I’m an equal opportunity companion. Have you taken a good look at him?”
Cian crossed his arms over his broad chest and snickered as I let my gaze drift over his form. He was handsome as hell. They grew them strong and beautiful in Novasgard.
Maeve laughed. “We aren’t together. Cian and I are training. Late-night hand-to-hand combat. He’s a warrior. I’m failing weapons and defense already, and we’re only a month into the year.”
“Fighting comes naturally. It’s in my blood,” Cian offered, then he shoved off the doorframe and strode closer to where I stood. “I could help you, if you need it.”
I swallowed hard and had to work to keep my heart rate even. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Let me know if you change your mind. I’m available.”
“Cian, stop flirting. She’s too sweet for you. She wouldn’t know what to do with you.”
That got my back up a bit. “I’m not that sweet.”
“I’d like the chance to find out just how sweet you are,” he said.
“Don’t get your hopes up. She’s already been claimed by Devon.”
My chest tightened. “No, I haven’t. No one has or will be doing any claiming. I’m not here for that.”
“We’ll see,” Cian murmured before heading for the door. “See you around, Ashy. I’m sure of it.”
Maeve shook her head and tossed an arm over her eyes. “Get out of here, Viking. Some of us need sleep before we head to class.”
Cian licked his lips before cocking his head at me. “Don’t be shy, little fighter. If you need a real challenge, you know where to find me.”
I couldn’t help myself. I watched him leave, and my stupid heart fluttered when he winked—he fucking winked—as he closed the door behind him.
Maeve snorted.
“What?”
“Omg,Four hotties now. Who's it gonna be babes?”
“None of them.” Even as I said it, thoughts of four very different men ran through my mind. Each image more scandalous and tantalizing than the last. I knew Maeve noticed the little shiver my mental peepshow caused because she snorted again.
“Keep telling yourself that, Callaway.”
Getting through the day had been a special sort of hell. Between my bruised knees and aching back from my sessions with Father Sylvester and the low-grade headache which had persisted since waking up in Jackson ’s bed, I was so over this being conscious thing. I just wanted to sleep. Which was exactly what I was planning to do—just as soon as I finished catching up on some of the reading Jericho had assigned to me for our next session. I had no desire to end up on his shit list.
As curious as I was about what represented the good priest’s idea of discipline, another part of me was pretty sure I didn’t want to find out. Not when his teaching methods already left me bloody and battered.
I groaned as I flipped through the book, internally weeping at how many pages of this chapter were left.
“That’s it,” Maeve declared. “We’re going out. One of the fairies in my study group is DJing tonight, and those guys know how to throw a party.”
The book in front of me closed with a loud snap, and I jumped, nearly falling out of my chair in surprise. “Shit, Maeve . How did you do that?”
“Uh, sweetie. It’s called magic.”
I made a face. “Yeah, I got that part. But how? I thought this place was warded or spelled or whatever? So grumpy shifters can’t just wolf out in the middle of class when a vamp looks at them sideways, and to prevent a pissy witch from setting fire to her cheating ex’s dorm room.”
“First, that’s oddly specific, and there are non-magical ways of starting a fire if said witch was so inclined. Second, I’ve already said this, but you clearly weren’t listening. Only the classrooms are warded. And third, you’re not giving me enough credit. I’m a Mirabella, remember?”
My cheeks burned at being chastised by her.
Maeve rolled her eyes. “You’re focusing on the wrong things here, Asher. As your roommate, you get to benefit from my awesomeness. You should be taking advantage of it, not asking stupid questions. Come on, get your ass up.”
“Maeve ,” I whined half-heartedly. I’d already learned it was impossible to sway her from her path once she’d decided something. “I’m not in the mood for big crowds and loud music. I have a headache.”
“Which is what the alcohol is for. Trust me. You need this. Hell, I need this just being around you. Now get up and start stripping. Here,” she reached into her closet and threw something at me. “Put this on.”
I held up the scrap of fabric I assumed was supposed to be a dress between my thumb and forefinger. “Uh, Maeve . My ass will never fit in this.”
She was petite and willowy with the body of a ballet dancer. I was . . . not. Which I was more than okay with, actually. I loved my curves, but how she thought we’d be able to share clothes was beyond me.
“Would you stop your bitching and just put it on? I know what I’m doing.”
I gave her another dubious glance but stood with a groan.
“That’s my girl!”
While she started rooting around for whatever she was going to wear, I pulled my T-shirt off and shimmied out of my jeans. I’d just started pulling the red dress over my head when I heard Maeve ’s gasp.
“Shit, Asher. What the hell did you do to your knees?”
Hands still awkwardly lifted above my head, I peered down, likely looking like some kind of demented scarecrow as I checked to see what she was referring to. The purple and black bruises on my knees made me wince. It looked even worse than it felt, which was saying a lot.
“I must have fallen when I was sleepwalking.”
I’m not sure why I lied. I just didn’t want to get into my kneeling sessions with Jericho. They felt private somehow. Like what happened in that room when he helped me access my wolf was just between us. Which was stupid. He was my teacher, and I was sure he’d had similar sessions with other students, but there it was.
“I thought shifters were supposed to have super healing?”
I tugged the dress down, grunting a little as I pulled it over my hips. “You have to be able to shift to be a shifter, remember?”
“Oh. Right. I didn’t realize you didn’t have access to any of the good stuff without your wolf.”
“The wolf is the good stuff.”
She shrugged. “Eh. I’d take the healing and enhanced senses over the furry smelly dog any day.”
I should have been insulted, and coming from anyone else, I probably would have been. Calling a shifter a dog never ended well, but from Maeve , it wasn’t insulting, just . . . Maeve . Even so, I probably shouldn’t have confirmed my complete lack of supernatural ability. She’d already known about the wolf, but no one outside of my pack knew about the other stuff. I hadn’t intended for her to find out, but when she’d seen the truth with her own eyes, I couldn’t exactly hide it.
“Hey Maeve , can we just keep that between us? I don’t really need—”
“Say no more. My lips are sealed.”
I gave her a relieved grin, going to stand in front of the full-length mirror once I smoothed the material of my dress down my thighs. Maeve came to join me, her wavy violet hair spilling over her shoulder as she studied me.
“Totally fuckable,” she announced. “But you’re going to need to add some tights if you want to hide those bruises.” She moved behind me, lifting the chocolaty length of my hair up, holding it in her fist in a makeshift ponytail. “Oh yeah, definitely up. If the men aren’t imagining the things they want to do to your neck, they’ll be thinking about how good it’ll feel to tug on this while they’re fucking you from behind.”
“Maeve !”
“What?” She blinked innocently at me. “I should know. It’s what I’d be thinking about.”
“Is it even possible for you to fuck me from behind?”
She gave me a sad, pitying look. “You poor, vanilla virgin.” Maeve didn’t give me a chance to respond to that before pushing me toward her desk chair. “All right, now let’s do something about your makeup.”
Forty-five minutes later, I was groomed, painted, and polished to within an inch of my life. We’d paired a chic leather jacket with my clingy dress, as well as some heeled ankle boots. She’d rubbed something rose-scented through my hair that made it silky and shiny and gave it a subtle shimmer. Then she gave me something else from her endless beauty supply to rub into my skin, which did the same for my body. All of that had been topped off with more bottles and tubes of makeup than I could count. Though the bold, red lipstick she playfully informed me was named ‘Don’t Stop’ and the winged black liner around my eyes were my personal favorites.
“Wow,” I breathed when she was finished, barely recognizing myself.
Maeve grinned at me. “I won’t even say I told you so.”
She looked equally amazing in her black leather microskirt and sheer long-sleeved blouse. She’d done her makeup similar to mine, though she’d opted for a glossy black lip instead of red. And I still wasn’t sure how she planned to dance, let alone walk, in her thigh-high heeled boots.
“Come on, now we’re ready for a night of bad decision-making.”
She took my hand and pulled me toward the door. This time I didn’t even feign a protest. If I was being honest, I was already feeling better and sort of looking forward to it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone out and partied with a friend. Hell, I could barely remember friends. Being the pack outcast had really put a damper on my social calendar.
“Fuck it. What’s the worst that could happen?”