Page 34 of Descent

“Asher beat the shit out of Richard Knox. I’m not sure what kind of damage control we are looking at, he’s piss drunk,” Liam says.

“Jesus Christ,” Ronan mutters before he clutches Asher’s arm, pulling him towards the pool.

Asher tries to fight him off, but Ronan snaps at him.

“Knock it off and get in the fucking locker room. NOW.”

Surprisingly, Asher concedes, and we follow as Ronan all but drags Asher to the locker room. When we get there, he throws Asher against one of the walls before turning on the shower head. Ice cold water begins soaking Asher from head to toe. I jump out of the way of the backsplash as Ronan keeps the shower head on him.

Asher gasps at the cold water, attempting to wipe it from his eyes and move out of the stall. Unfortunately for him, Vincent is there, pushing him back against the wall as Ronan continues to hose him down. Liam comes to stand beside me, a hot cup of what smells like black coffee in his hand, before Ronan finally stops the water, allowing Asher to slide down the wall and sit on the floor.

He sits there for several seconds, just staring at the water trailing down the drain before his bloodshot eyes look up at us. My mouth is pinched in concern, though I hate myself for having any level of concern for him, if I’m honest.

Liam offers Asher the cup of coffee, and he pushes it away before I speak.

“Please,” I ask softly.

Those brown eyes snap up to mine, holding my gaze for several seconds before he nods. He grabs the cup from Liam’soutstretched hand, taking small sips of it. It only takes a minute or so before Asher is on his hands and knees, retching the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

Ronan quickly moves to get a trash can, shoving it under his face as Asher heaves and groans repeatedly. When he has nothing left to throw up, he rests his head against the side of the can. I watch him with pity, unsure of what to say or do as Ronan, Liam, and Vincent begin talking amongst themselves.

At least an hour goes by with the same recycled pattern. Asher drinks more coffee and then pukes before attempting more coffee and puking some more. Finally, he begins to appear at least a little more sober. His clothes are sopping wet, but his hair is already starting to dry and there is more focus to his gaze when he looks up at me.

My phone rings in my hand, and I frown when I see Wesley’s name across it.

“Hello?”

“I’m here to pick you up,” he says, the typical friendly tone in his voice noticeably absent.

I glance at the clock before shaking my head.

“I still have a few more hours before I’m done for the day.”

“No, I was sent to pick you and Asher up…by Christopher,” he says, his name sounding just as foreboding on Wesley’s tongue as it feels to my ears.

“Now?” I ask, cringing when I look to see Ronan trying to help Asher into fresh clothes.

“Now.”

Chapter Fifteen

Asher

Istare straight ahead, doing my best to clear the blurred vision from my eyes. This literally couldn’t have come at a worse time. Well, not true. I could have been summoned two hours ago. Now, that would have been interesting.

After Skyla hung up the phone, I towel dried my hair as best as I could. Ronan found me an extra pair of jeans and a button-down to slip on. We are practically the same height, but it doesn’t hide the fact that these clothes are most definitely not tailor-made for me.

Something tells me though, that if he is summoning both Skyla and I in the middle of the day, clothes will be the last thing on his mind. Glancing over to the seat beside me, I watch Skyla’s knee bounce nervously as her hands twist together in her lap. For a second, I reach my hand out. To do what, I’m not sure. It’s not like I can offer her any comfort, nor would she accept any even if I could.

Blowing out a rough breath, I throw my head against the headrest and close my eyes.

Why does everything have to be so fucking hard when it comes to her?

I haven’t missed the looks of concern Wesley has been giving Skyla since he picked us up. He thinks he’s discreet, and maybe he is. But when you’ve been watching someone as close as I watch Skyla, you don’t miss a thing.

When we pull through the gates and up to the main house, it feels as though a lead ball drops in my stomach. I do my best to hide my unease, putting on a mask that I’ve perfected over the years.

I’m out of the car as soon as Wesley parks, making my way to Skyla’s side to find him already there. He offers a hand to help her out of the car, and she takes it. When her feet are on the ground, she gives him a small smile that he returns, though that look of concern never leaves his gaze. Neither does his hand.

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