Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
I want things I have no right wanting.
“I'm leaving,” I say instead.
“Ivy—”
I pull the earpiece out and drop it in my clutch.
The hallway is still empty. I take the stairs, heels clicking against concrete, and I don't stop until I'm outside, cold air slapping my face.
My phone buzzes again.
Okay I'm going with the snakes because you'd probably speak in parcel tongue and recruit them. Strategic.
Night, Venom.
I stare at the screen until it goes dark.
Then I text back.
The bear. At least it's honest about wanting to kill you.
Three dots appear immediately. He's awake. Of course he is.
Dark. I love it. You okay?
Why wouldn't I be?
Because you never answer this late. And that response was very “I just murdered someone” energy.
My heart stops.
KIDDING. Obviously. Unless…? No. Kidding. But seriously you good?
I'm fine. Go to bed.
Only if you do too.
Deal.
Liar. You're gonna stay up for another hour doing whatever mysterious shit you do. But that's okay. I'll allow it.
How generous.
I'm a giver. Goodnight for real this time.
The screen goes dark again.
I stand there on the sidewalk, wig itching, dress too tight, hands still steady from a kill, and I feel it.
The crack.
The first real fracture in the armor I've spent my entire life building.
And it's his fault.
Goddamn you, Asher.
I shove my phone back in my clutch and start walking. Daniel's parked two blocks away, engine idling, ready to disappear me back into my other life.
Jogging down the street, I find Daniel's parked car and slide into the back, ripping off the wig before working on the ridiculous clothes.
His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Everything okay?”
“Why do people keep asking me that?” I ask, unclipping my hair from the ugly little bun and running my fingers through to break it up.
“Is it not obvious?” Daniel jokes, pulling us into the dead street.
“Fair,” I say, pulling out my phone and rereading Asher's text. Why is he already important to me?
Why in this lifetime?
* * *
A pillow hits my head. A hammer? Thor!
“Wake up, Venom.”
I groan, swatting blindly at the air. My brain is still stuck somewhere between Asgard and a very specific fantasy involving lightning and abs that could grate cheese. “Five more minutes.”
“You've been moaning for the last ten.” The mattress dips. “Should I be concerned, or jealous?”
My eyes snap open.
Asher is sliding under my sheets like he owns them. Like he owns me. His hair is damp, curling at the ends, and he smells like cedar and something expensive. Fresh from the shower. In my bed.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Waking you up.” He settles against my headboard, arms crossed behind his head. Those pale blue eyes find mine in the dim morning light. “You were saying someone's name. Couldn't quite catch it.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “I wasn't—”
“Thor.” He says it flat. Dead. “You were moaning Thor.”
“I was not.”
“You absolutely were.” His jaw ticks. Just once. “The Marvel one or the mythology one? Because I need to know if I'm competing with Chris Hemsworth or a literal god.”
“You're not competing with anyone.” I yank the covers higher, suddenly aware I'm wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear. “Because there's no competition. There's no anything.”
“Mm.” He doesn't sound convinced. “You always get this defensive about your dreams?”
“You always break into women's bedrooms at—” I squint at the clock. “Six in the fucking morning?”
“Only yours.”
I hate the way that lands. Hate the little flutter in my chest that I immediately murder with extreme prejudice.
“Get out.”
“No.”
“Asher.”
“Ivanya.”
I grab the pillow he assaulted me with and shove it over my face. Maybe if I suffocate myself, I won't have to deal with whatever this is. “Why are you like this? Why are you here? Why are you in such a disgustingly good mood at dawn?”
The pillow gets tugged away. He's closer now, propped on one elbow, studying me like I'm a puzzle he's almost solved.
“Don't have to see my family.”
I blink. “What?”
“Thought I had to fly out this weekend.” He shrugs, but something flickers behind those ice-chip eyes. Something he's trying very hard to bury. “Plans changed.”
“That's… good?”
“Very good.” His smile doesn't reach his eyes. “Means I get to stay here and annoy you instead.”
There's more. I can feel it sitting between us, heavy and unspoken. The way his shoulders are just slightly too rigid. The way his jaw keeps flexing like he's grinding his teeth.
“Asher.”
“Hm?”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” Too fast. Too light. “Family stuff. Boring. You wouldn't care.”
“You're right. I don't.” I roll onto my side, facing him. “But you're in my bed at six AM looking like someone kicked your puppy, so clearly you care.”
His expression shutters. That fast, that complete—like watching a door slam.
“I'm in your bed because you were having a sex dream about a fictional character and I felt personally offended.” He tugs at a strand of my hair. “We need to discuss your taste in men.”