Page 10 of Vampire Runner

I spent so much time in the recesses of my body, trapped within my own mind, envisioning the day I’m able to be with Ashe again. I thought of all the different ways I could show him my love, my trust, and my sincere remorse at causing him so much pain. In every scenario, he’d listen to me—even if it meant releasing his carefully controlled temper. Never did I think he’d treat me with such indifference. Between the two of us in our relationship, I had always been the more reserved, the less willing to open myself to vulnerability.

The coffee shop is as eclectic as ever, with restored vintage and antique light fixtures, mismatched refurbished furniture, and bare brick walls. It should clash, with how everything is similar but not close enough to match, and yet just like the patrons sitting and working at the tables or booths, there’s a harmony here. No one pays us any attention as we walk up to the counter. It’s disconcerting, since the last time Ashe and I walked anywhere together, the townsfolk of Willow Creek couldn’t avoid staring.

“What can I get for you?” the cheerful young man behind the counter asks. He takes me in, and his friendly smile turns flirtatious. “If you have any questions, I’m more than happy to help you with anything you need.”

I blink rapidly, dumbfounded at the overt implication especially when he winks. And I’d thought Ashe had been scandalous when he would request me to allow him to see me safely home from the market. The young man—a shifter, if I read the natural predatorial glint in his eyes— leans forward, bracing his elbow on the modern cash register.

“I could tell you the things I like?” His voice is a rumble of a growl, and my cheeks go hot as my lips part in surprise.

Then he’s slammed flat against the counter, Ashe’s hand gripping the back of his neck as he snarls viciously.

“What the fuck!” the shifter shouts, his skin beginning to ripple as black fur sprouts.

“Ashe!” I say, shocked speechless at the encounter.

Ashe ignores me, tightening his grip on the shifter’s neck, uncaring that the male is half-wolf by this point. As he leans closer to the male, I catch sight of his red-hazed eyes, his fangs long enough to be visible as he speaks.

“That is my mate you’re flirting with.” The wolf-shifter freezes at Ashe’s words, delivered in a blood-chilling quiet. “Keep shifting, boy. Give me a reason to gut you.”

“Enough!” A sharp voice cracks through the stunned crowd. Darcelle marches up behind the counter, their crimson red dress flowing around their legs and the heavy blue eyeshadow doing nothing to soften the anger in their eyes. They storm up to Ashe without fear and put their fists on their hips. Ashe still hasn’t moved, snarling down at the shifter, who’s begun to shake.

Darcelle looks at me, taking me in with narrowed eyes. Their eyes give me an up and down and their eyes flash with realization. They turn back to Ashe and their employee with a huff.

“Ashe, let the pup go. He’s new and doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut,” Darcelle snaps, tapping their foot on the hardwood floors.

The customers collectively hold their breath, waiting to see what the Nightshade vampire will do. The wolf-shifter has returned to his human form, his eyes squeezed shut with terror.

With an annoyed huff, Ashe shoves the man into the counter as he straightens and releases him. Ashe meets Darcelle’s gaze with his own iron-filled eyes, the red retreating. “See that he learns quickly, witch.” Ashe adjusts his suit jacket cuffs, as if he weren’t just threatening to dismember someone seconds ago. “Cassandra and Eris have business with you. Take us to your office.”

Darcelle’s eyebrows shoot up at the order and I clear my throat, drawing the witch’s attention before they decide to curse Ashe for his impertinence.

“Please forgive the commotion,” I say, drawing on all the polite manners my parents and grandmother hammered into me. “It has been some time since I’ve been around other males, and so my mate is understandably on edge.”

“Considering what I know of Eris, it’s been a lot longer than some time.” Darcelle cocks their head at me. “Something tells me that you’ve got a story to tell. You can come with me to my office.”

They turn and I move to follow on the other side of the counter, going towards a narrow hall in the back. Ashe follows, but Darcelle stops at the hall entrance, whirling around with a pointed finger at the vampire. He stares down at them with a blank expression.

“Not you, vampire,” Darcelle bites out. “Your clan might run this city, but no vampires are entering my office. Especially not after that display. You can wait in the car for your mate.”

Ashe’s lip curls up in a snarl and I grab his arm, squeezing to get his attention. He turns his glare to me and I raise my chin. He knows better than to growl and bluster with me.

“You know this is the witch’s way,” I remind him. “Don’t you have a meeting to make? This will take some time, so go do your work for Ambrose. I’ll stay here within the wards.”

Ashe looks like he’s going to argue with me, but he looks away and my shoulders relax. He glares at Darcelle, who doesn’t back down. “If a single hair is harmed on her head, I will destroy this place brick by brick.”

“Ashe!” I gasp as Darcelle says, “Acknowledged. Now leave my shop before I kick you out.”

With one final pointed look at me, one filled with ice-rimmed flames, Ashe strides away. We watch him until he wrenches the front door open, the bells clanging as it slams into the wall. I wince at the display.

“I’m so sorry about him—” I begin to apologize and Darcelle lets out a low, deep laugh, waving away my concerns.

“I’m just proud of the boy for finally showing some emotion,” they say before heading down into the wall. “I’ve always thought Ashe was too contained. It’s not good on the stomach to bottle everything up like he does. Now, then, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

I roll my lips, considering Darcelle’s words about my mate. While Eris is in control of my body, I’m not completely unaware of what is happening around us but what Darcelle is describing is not the Ashe I know. My Ashe is passionate and tender and always trying to coax a smile or laugh from me. To hear that he’s now as bottled up as, say, Kasar makes my heart ache and guilt weighs down my shoulders.

Instead, I focus on explaining what I know happened when Eris and Ashe pursued the archangel Aeternaphiel from Wren’s gallery. The witch listens without comment as they open the door and we cross into their office, the buzz of their wards rippling over my skin with comforting familiarity. I stop just over the threshold, struck by the eclectic mix before me. I shouldn’t be, considering the decor of the coffee shop behind us.

An antique electric chandelier casts a warm glow over the space, the intricate designs juxtaposed against the exposed brick walls lined with shelves. The shelves themselves hold a dizzying collection of leather-bound tomes interspersed with modern plastic binders in different colors.

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