Chapter 43 Chapter Forty-Three
ASHER
Did he love her?
No. He couldn't possibly love a human. Right?
But Crystal...
Crystal was different.
She made him want to be something more than just a dying Alpha playing out his last days with dignity. She made him want to fight. To rage against the sickness instead of accepting it. To believe that maybe there was a reason he'd survived this long.
"Does it matter?" Asher said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Our paths are different. If we crossed this one time, it was just by chance."
But it wasn't. He knew her. But would she remember him? Times were... different back then.
"Of course it matters!" Aquila chirped. "You might think otherwise, but you've been... different."
" Different?"
"Yes. Ever since that night you insisted we bring her home. I've known you for twelve long years, and you've never brought home a woman before." Aquila countered. "So, what makes her special?"
Those eyes. That pale skin looked like porcelain and glimmered under the moonlight. That raven black hair that curled around her body like vines...
"I know what you're thinking, Aquila, and I'd hate to disappoint you, but there is no grand scheme or ulterior motive. She was a girl in danger and I stepped in to help."
"That's it?"
"Yes. Whatever fantasy you have, bury it now because I could never be with someone like her."
Or maybe it was the other way round.
Asher thought in his heart. But he kept it to himself.
"Well, that's... disappointing. " Aquila Thrummed.
Neither spoke as they navigated the familiar path through the estate. There was nothing left to say that hadn't already been said. Nothing that wouldn't sound hollow.
Asher led the way, his movements slower and more careful than usual. His body still ached in places where the scales had forced their way through. .
The corridors gradually brightened as they moved away from the depths of the estate and into the moonlight that spilled through the windows.
Asher changed direction, turning down a hallway and Aquila followed without question.
The doors were already open when they reached the terrace. This was where he came when he needed to think. Where he'd been working when the corruption hit him like a bolt of lightning, shocking every nerve in his body and he had to struggle to find his way into the dungeon before he completely lost it.
There was an oak desk and two chairs with paperwork and maps left unattended and fluttering in the wind.
Cool night air rushed in to meet them as they stepped through.
The terrace was one of the highest points of the estate, built onto the side with a view that stretched for miles. During the day, you could see the village below, the forest spreading out in all directions, the distant peaks of other mountains rising like teeth against the horizon.
But at night—especially on nights like this, when the moon was full and bright—it was something else entirely.
The world was painted in shades of silver and shadow. The forest below looked like an ocean of darkness, broken only by the occasional clearing where moonlight pooled like liquid. The sky above was vast and clear, scattered with more stars than seemed possible.
And the moon.
It hung low and enormous, so bright it cast actual shadows across the stone terrace. So close it felt like you could reach up and touch it and in the distance, you could hear the wolves howl.
Asher moved to the edge of the terrace, his hands gripping the railing. The cool air felt good against his overheated skin.
Behind him, he heard Aquila pull out of the chairs and fall into the midst.
"Life is full of disappointments," Asher murmured as he went back to his chair and sat.
"You need to stop pushing yourself, Asher. Transformations accelerate the sickness. Every time you shift, you're gambling with time you don't have."
"The weretiger—"
"Can be handled by the pack. You don't need to hunt it yourself."
"I'm their Alpha."
"You're a dragon."