Page 25 of Lethal Truths

It’s late, well past midnight, and the entire house is still and silent. I didn’t have any trouble sneaking in through the front door — dummies leave the damn thing unlocked for drunk frat brothers — and I didn’t make a sound as I went to the immaculate kitchen and pulled a knife from the butcher’s block. The stairs didn’t creak with my steps, the air never so much as shifted, and now, as I’m standing in front of Asher’s bedroom door, I feel almost as if the house willingly let me in. Not a soul asleep inside of it is aware of the woman in the shadows, looking to inflict some damage.

With a slow breath to help center me, I clutch the knife a little tighter and use my other hand to turn the doorknob. A moment later, the door is open, having swung wide without any noise. I smile to myself as I walk in, feeling a dangerous kind of calm settle over me.

Shit, maybe I will kill him. Asher’s been nothing but a thorn in my goddamn ass since the second I met him. I can put up with a lot, and I have. I’ve withstood his bullshit for months. But this time, he’s taken it way too far, and I have to draw the line somewhere. Otherwise, he’ll be setting a precedent for everyone else: Prudence Cate is a spineless pushover. She’ll take it all and never put her foot down.

Well, I don’t fucking think so.

With the door closed behind me, the knife held firmly in my hand, I move on light feet across the carpet and stop beside Asher’s bed. A wildly erratic and enjoyable thought races through my mind. How creepy would it be to wake up and find someone standing over you, watching you sleep? Would he panic? Would he scream?

Oh, how much I’d give just to hear him scream.

As carefully and gracefully as I can, I climb onto the queen-sized bed. Asher doesn’t even furrow his brows as my weight causes the mattress to dip beside him. He’s still and peaceful, and painfully beautiful in the dim moonlight. If this was a social visit, I would take the time to admire his soft, full lips, long lashes, and smooth jaw. But it’s not.

Swallowing past my annoying nerves, I quickly swing one leg over his waist so I’m straddling him, and in the same breath, I press the edge of the blade to his throat. With my weight and sudden movement, Asher finally begins to stir, a soft groan falling from his lips. He settles back into comfort a second later, though.

“Rise and shine, asshole,” I say, an almost sing-song lilt to my voice as I press just a bit harder with the knife.

Asher’s eyes shoot open, his muscles tensing immediately. One hand grips my wrist with a bone-crushing intensity while the other snaps out and circles around my throat. He blinks up at me several times, like he’s still trying to wake up and his body simply acted on instinct. It’s almost laughable as his lips open, close, and then turn down into a tired frown.

“Prudence? What the fuck?” he finally rasps, his voice gloriously rough from sleep. God, what is it about that in men that drives me wild? His fingers give my neck a warning squeeze as he slowly adds, “What do you think you’re doing?” The most frustrating thing is that he doesn’t even sound concerned, just irritated. Like he’s not worried about the weapon I’m holding or the undoubtedly feral gleam in my eyes. It’s as if he’s confident I won’t go any further.

“I spoke to my mom,” I explain softly, not bothered in the slightest by the pressure on my throat. “We had a very interesting conversation about some random, distant relative that reached out to her recently. What was his name, again?” I tilt my head, pouting a bit while I pretend to scramble my mind for the answer. “Oh, yeah. Ashland Michaels… Which is funny because it could almost be Asher Malcom, don’t you think?”

Asher’s expression flicks from confusion to shock to guilt and then back to impassive in a matter of seconds. He purses his lips, dropping his hands from my wrist and neck. “Oh no, you caught me,” he deadpans, lifting his head enough to clasp his hands behind it. “What are you going to do, pet? Hmmm?”

“I’m—“

“Nothing,” Asher muses, an easygoing smile curling up his lips. His green eyes are almost black in the dark room, but even with the lack of light, I can see the amusement dancing clearly in them. “You won’t do a single thing, will you?”

Gritting my teeth, I turn the knife so the edge is digging into his smooth skin at a different angle. I want so badly to push in, to lean some weight on him, and watch his blood spill. But if I do, am I any better than him or The Celestials?

“I know,” I finally whisper. “About The Celestials and your involvement with them. I know that you’re all out to get me for some fucking reason, and that my attack on Fright Night was part of it.”

Asher’s jaw ticks, and his smile drops. “Fright Night? Who—“ he cuts himself off, simply staring at me. I don’t say another word, though. I’m having a hard enough time fighting my darker desire to end Asher’s life right now. “Do you want me to applaud you? Praise you for being so smart, for figuring it all out?” he says after a moment, voice thick with sarcasm. Asher laughs, deeper this time. “You still don’t know anything of value, though, do you? Not really.”

I suck in a breath, and then another, struggling to compose myself and find the right words to spit back at him. Angry tears burn the back of my eyes, my throat swelling with emotion. All I ever wanted was to find some manner of peace for my mom and yet, in coming here, I’ve opened her up to more harassment from the fucking group who hurt her all those years ago. It may be different people, a different generation now, but it’s all the same in the end. Asher found my mom. He even managed to speak with her. What’s next? How far will The Celestials go and why? That’s what I still don’t understand. The why of it all. From breaking my mom twenty years ago to targeting me now.

In my mental spiraling, I end up snapping one word aloud. “Why?” My voice is a weak croak, and my strength wavers all at once. I pull the knife away from Asher’s neck, and I don’t even have it in me to relish in the red mark I left there. A bit more pressure, and I would have broken the skin, but there’s not a single ounce of joy to be had over that fact.

The second the blade is a safe distance away, Asher reacts, lunging forward, flipping us over, and stealing the weapon right out of my hand in the blink of an eye. All the air in my lungs whooshes out of me as my back hits his mattress and his heavy weight settles over me. This time, the blade is at my throat, and I must admit, it’s a much less satisfying position to be in.

Asher leans down, running his nose up the side of my neck. “Don’t play with toys you can’t handle, pet,” he whispers by my ear, moving the blade down and across my collarbone as if he’s caressing rather than threatening.

I whimper, equally frustrated and drained. Letting my eyes fall closed, I tilt my chin up to give Asher better access to the artery he’d need to open. “Do it, then,” I breathe.

If The Celestials mean to kill me, then why prolong it? They’re powerful and ruthless. They could murder me in the middle of Black Creek and I have no doubt they’d be able to cover it all up, even with countless witnesses. That’s what money affords you, I suppose. The ability to bribe, influence, and even blackmail those who don’t have enough of it.

Asher trains the edge of the blade against my throat once more, but he doesn’t press it into my skin. “Really? Giving up already?” he teases, though his voice has a dark edge to it that sends chills down my spine. “Do you want to die, Prudence?” he adds in a whisper.

“No. Do you want to kill me, Asher?” I ask softly, leaving my body relaxed under his.

“I don’t… No, I—“ The knife drops to the mattress, and Asher’s hand grips my jaw instead, fingers digging into my skin. “Fight me off.” When I don’t make a move to do any such thing, Asher’s nostrils flare and his eyes take on a sharp edge. “Come on, pet. Play with me, hurt me,” he urges. “I haven’t grown tired of you quite yet.”

Curling my lips into a snarl, I snap, “Well, too fucking bad, Asher, because I’ve grown real tired of you. Of your games and your barbs and your stupid fucking face! I don’t want to fight anymore. I just want to—“

Asher’s lips drop to mine, cutting off my words and sending my mind into a spiral. I can’t even think straight enough to shove him off because the kiss is so violent that it’s taking all my effort to simply keep up. It’s that or he’s going to draw blood, and I won’t allow this fucker the satisfaction. His teeth dig into my bottom lip, his tongue invading and fighting for dominance, while his hand flexes on my jaw and holds me right where he wants me.

When he breaks for air, I finally get my shit together. “Fuck you,” I seethe, giving his chest a rough push.

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