Page 12 of The Shadows of the Dawn

“Uh,” Asher deadpanned. “What?”

“Christ, dude, Kat’s right. Get it out of your system. Punch me.” He motioned at his jaw.

Oh, Asher was beyond tempted, but decking someone literally asking for it felt like a bitch move. “Man, I was the general of an army of immortals at war.” Liam probably would’ve been in Asher’s unit in an alternate universe—stray Blood Followers in Grander, as rare as they were, didn’t stay stray for long. Huh, he wondered how that would’ve played out, if Asher had been the one who’d spotted him on Malkolm’s territory and how he would’ve reacted. “I ain’t hitting some defenseless, sorry sap.”

Liam’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Exactly what I mean. You were a vampire lord’s right-hand man, but you’re still hanging on to shit that happened when we were kids.”

Asher sneered. Okay, maybe he would hit him. “It’s not up to you whether I forgive you. Why do you even care what I think?” On the last word, Asher shoved against Liam’s chest.

Liam pushed him back—with far more gusto than Asher had been expecting. The temperature seemed to spike between them. “Because if you forgive me, I can forgive myself! Do you think I’m proud of how I handled my internalized bullshit back then?!”

Asher guffawed. “Oh, so you’re the real victim, huh?”

He nearly staggered against the wave of rage surging from Liam, a white-hot burst of hatred toward Asher, toward himself, toward everyone. It was the only warning Asher got before Liam sprung, claws out and jaw opened.

Asher let himself get tackled to the ground, Liam blindly swiping at Asher’s face. Asher bucked and flipped the inexperienced vampire underneath him, slipping into his old role all too easily, like a forgotten jersey in the back of the closet—a role steeped in anger and impatience and disdain.

Liam was just another lowly Blood Follower who wasn’t getting the point through his thick skull, so Asher Black was gonna pummel the lesson into him. Liam was about to understand the extent of Asher’s decade-long grudge.

Asher gave what Liam wanted and hit him.

And hit him.

Over and over again.

The blows rained down too hard and too relentlessly for Liam to retaliate. Blood gushed from teeth and broken nose, bone and cartilage cracking beneath Asher’s knuckles. Asher didn’t need tooth or nail, he just needed to strike like a human man. Like a teenage boy full of wrath on the locker room floor.

“Enough!” Trish screamed, using her mojo to quell much of Asher’s fury, enough for Nikola to haul him off Liam.

“He’ll fucking heal,” Asher spat as Trish helped her brother up. His eyes swelled shut, his flesh blotching purple and blue, shining with tears and dark red as he wept and bled. Pathetic.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Liam coughed through engorged, split lips.

He still didn’t fucking get it.

The only thing keeping Asher from pouncing again was Nikola’s hands firmly locked around his forearms. Asher felt the words erupting, unable to stop them any more than he could the explosion of an active volcano. He’d spent years keeping them to himself, Nikola Kingston the lone exception, yet he heard himself hurling them at one of the people he hated most on this planet. “I tried killing myself after the team attacked me, do you get it? I walked into a vampire’s path on purpose, hoping it would kill me. I will never forgive you!”

Liam, looking at Asher over the hands cupped around his nose, froze. The murderous fire in his scarlet eyes doused in an instant. Asher wanted to feel satisfaction over catching him off guard, but in its place was shame. He regretted so impulsively admitting to that level of weakness, of... of admitting that Liam once had that much power over Asher. But that’s what Asher was best at: impulsiveness.

“Oh, fuck off,” Trish said, dragging Asher out of his pity party. “You act like no one here knows about your reputation. The ruthless Master Asher Black, the feared guard dog of a tyrant. You really think you can take the high ground right now?”

Nah, he really didn’t. This wasn’t about the code of morality. “Listen, lady, if one of those fucks I kicked around under Malkolm’s regime came around, I wouldn’t be groveling at their feet begging for forgiveness. We ain’t discussing the carnage of Blood. This shit between Liam and I is just that. Between us. And as far as I’m concerned, we’re done here.”

Not giving anyone the chance to reply, Asher marched back to their stolen vehicle, grabbing Nikola by the hip on his way. He felt Moss’s eyes trailing after his every step.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Nikola

The silence of the cab was chilling. Nikola wasn’t sure if Katsuki had been right about Liam and Asher settling scores. Nikola’s doubt in the ancient vampire was an uncomfortable rarity. Though he wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t gratifying watching Asher beating on the Blood—until it had started veering toward what had looked like attempted murder.

Liam’s face had already mostly healed, though faint pink scars lingered. Katsuki was no longer chiming in with Moon advice or relevant stories, perhaps deciding it to be foolish to cram those sorts of lessons during an incredibly tense road trip.

Moss, no longer able to bear the stillness of the undead, flicked on the radio to a classic rock station. What classified as “classic” music was lost on Nikola, the cut-off changing every couple of decades or so. He could still recall days of old when opera and theater were all the rage.

His mind wandered to the times he’d been able to dine and fraternize with royals and whom humans had once deemed as “higher society,” using his charm and Moon pull as his main weapons. Of course, with Marianna in his shadow, he could never hang around the same families for too long...

He was considering quietly telling Asher such tales, if only to distract his beloved from the gloomy present, when Moss cursed under their breath. “Dawn is in a couple of hours, so I know we’ll need to stop and seek shelter, but I’m pretty sure we’ve been tailed for the last few miles.”

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