When Fate Aligns: Book One of The Mortals and Mystics Series Page 8

  I study the two small gray mushrooms in my palm, pushing the outer membrane of the fungus between my fingers. They look like the mushrooms in Hollis’ kitchen, but I’m not sure. I place them gently into the bottom of my empty satchel. Ky will know if they’re safe to eat or not. The forest is quiet with only the sound of a few birds above. Hopefully, my mother and Ky are having better luck finding food in the creek than I am in the woods.

  It’s been almost a week since I was back at camp. I’ve missed so much school they’ll never let me finish. I’ll become a job gypsy, picking up left-over shifts and odd jobs while the more qualified people work in professions of dignity. With as much medical experience I have from helping my mother, our government would be stupid to place me anywhere outside the medical field, but I won’t find respectable work without a complete education.

  I swallow down the thought of my future and continue searching the area for some form of food.

  A few yards ahead of me is a tangle of thorn bushes. It encompasses a large portion of the outer section of the forest. My exit. Perfect. I walk closer to the twisting thin death trap and find it is littered with red and black berries. There are so many my heart leaps at the sight of them.

  Sadly, I still don’t know if they are edible. Our camp only had berries in our breakfast during special occasions, and I can’t recall if these are the same berries. Clearly, I should have listened to Ms. Hollis more often. Or at least showed up on time.

  I shrug my ignorance off and begin picking handfuls of the berries and depositing them into my bag along with the two mushrooms. I pick and pick until the vines are bare. My satchel is only half full. Within the heart of the threatening thorns are a few more berries. The last remaining ones.

  Carefully I reach my arm in, but I can’t grasp them. I lean in a little closer and my fingers brush one of the three berries. Releasing a long breath, I push even farther against the sharp vines and yank the large berry free. A yelp escapes my lips as I pull away and a thorn scratches against my neck.

  I chuck the traitorous berry into my satchel and touch my neck. A small amount of blood coats my fingers. The cut burns against my sweaty skin.

  I turn away with my fingers still on my neck and let out a small screech when I run face first into Asher’s chest. He smiles down at me as I try to calm my breathing.

  “You really shouldn’t wander the woods alone,” he says in a smooth voice, reminding me of the big bad wolf. He takes a glance around us. “There could be worse things out here than me.” The hill he came down is towering, and I wonder how it’s possible I didn’t hear him.

  He leans against a nearby tree, and I watch as he wipes his hands on a dirty rag. The rag stains red from his palms. He doesn’t look up at me, but focuses on his hands. His brows tense, a thin line forming there.

  I can’t help but watch him. I try to pretend to look around for other food sources, but my eyes stray back to him. The birds above have stopped chirping and fluff their wings in a fidgeting way. I wonder what else could be in the woods. Clearly, the wildlife sees Asher as the biggest predator. Should I see Asher as more dangerous than he appears? He hasn’t given me a reason to fear him, the opposite really.

  “Do hybrids drink blood?” I ask bluntly, unable to stop myself.

  He laughs loudly, his eyes studying my face, trying to decide whether I’m joking. When he realizes how serious I am, his face becomes instantly somber.

  “Don’t you think this is a question you should have considered a long time ago?” he asks in an almost offended tone.

  My face flames red, and I look away from him again, unable to form an appropriate response. Yes, I definitely should have thought of this earlier but he’s so … kind and easy to trust. It honestly hadn’t crossed my mind much.

  “No, there’s no blood lust for hybrids. Sorry to ruin the image your society has created of me.”

  “I didn’t mean to … I just … I spend every day with you and I consider you my friend. But I don’t really even know what you’re capable of.”

  He nods, I watch his every move, trying to find our footing again in our strange new friendship. His brows are pinched in thought. He doesn’t seem angry with me, but something is definitely on his mind, something he doesn’t seem willing to share with me. After the question I just asked him, I don’t really blame him.

  I turn away, trying to busy myself from the humiliation I just put myself through. I walk farther into the woods, hoping to at least give Ky three options in case both my berries and mushrooms aren’t any good.

  “The guy back at the cave,” I stop a few yards from him and turn around, “do you like him?” he asks in an indifferent tone.

  I completely stop pretending to search for food now even as my stomach growls in protest. I look at him, but he’s still leaning against the tree, wiping his hands as if uninterested in my response.

  “Ayden?” His name strikes a subtle pain against my heart. This is the longest I’ve ever gone without speaking to him. “Of course, I do. He’s my best friend. My only friend, really,” I say honestly. If I only have one friend my entire life and it’s Ayden, then I will have been lucky to have known such an amazing person.

  Asher nods as he chews his lip. A gesture so human I almost tell him so, but he looks too deep in thought to interrupt.

  “So there’s no deeper emotion there?” He’s casual with his questions. He tucks the rag into his back pocket. “Just a lifetime of friendship?” He looks at me now like he’s trying to understand a missing emotion his kind doesn’t have. His crystal-like eyes shine against the streams of sunlight passing through the leaves above.

  A small smile tugs at my lips, remembering the few times Ayden kissed me. He wanted to save me from my future in the camp. I would have drug him down and he would have let me just to save me. Maybe to Ayden, I’m more than just a friend. He’s a friend I don’t deserve, but just a friend all the same.

  “Just friends,” I say quietly.

  He gives a genuine smile at my words. It confuses me and distracts me all at once. He pushes off the tree and walks slowly toward me, leaves crunching lightly under each step.

  “What happened to your neck?” he asks when he’s only one step away.

  We’re so close I can see flecks of red against his white shirt. The small detail doesn’t distract my eyes from the rest of him; the out-of-place detail is smothered by his simple presence. My nervous breaths have become uneven and my heart hammers to free itself, but my face doesn’t give away my anxious feelings.

  “I got caught in a vine of berries. I was actually going to ask Ky if they’re edible.” I look away from his intense eyes long enough to pull two dark red berries from my satchel. I hand them to Asher, and he inspects them. His brows dip low as he takes a closer look at one between his thumb and index finger, considering the small fruit.

  I don’t have the slightest idea where Asher is from, what he was doing before he was locked away at Compound 186, but the gravity of the look he’s giving these berries right now fires my restless nerves through my body. I shift on my feet and fold my arms over my chest to stop myself from touching the dried scratch at my neck.

  “Do you think they’re poisonous?” I ask in a nervous voice.

  He gives a long sigh, his lips thin and turn down slightly.

  “Most definitely,” he says, nodding his head slowly.

  He takes another worried look at my neck. I try to take deep breaths as his intense stare seeps into me. His concern transfers right through me, wedging into every crevice of my mind, but I continue to focus on my breathing. He pushes loose strands of hair off my neck, and the small cut stings when his fingers brush against it.

  “Do you think the cut is anything to worry about?” I ask, starting to panic internally while the forest around me remains silent.

  His steel eyes glance from the scratch to my face. He tilts his head to better inspect the affected area of my neck. My mind is racing a mile a minute at all the thoughts of
infection and bites I’ve seen over the years within our camp.

  “It’s hard to say really.”

  My mouth is dry and I’m still sweating, but I can’t tell whether it’s from the intense heat or whether it’s a symptom of the deadly poison racing through my bloodstream.

  “We could always give you an antidote just to be safe,” he says, looking at the ground in thought.

  “There’s an antidote?” I ask loudly, hope fluttering into my panicked heart. Is my heart rate accelerated from the berries?

  He gives a small, masked smile. “My DNA is a cure all. Do they not teach you anything at that camp?”

  His DNA. I instantly wonder what else Shaw used him for. Was there more to the compound than work and the secret testing?.

  “Your DNA. Like your blood?” I ask, trying not to curl my lip in disgust. The thought of seeing his blood again, let alone wiping it on myself makes me want to run far, far away, poisoned or not.

  “Our blood is an instantaneous solution, but there are other ways to transfer DNA,” he says in a low voice with an animalistic smile.

  Confusion crosses my face as I think through his words. I’m almost about to ask him to explain when he licks his lips. My eyes follow the movement with slow understanding washing through me. My uneven breaths halt altogether. I suddenly notice how close he is to me. I give an awkward half smile and struggle to find a sentence to clear the air.

  “Relax, I’m not going to bite you,” he says with a soft laugh that hums through my own body.

  “It’s not that.” I pause trying to dissolve my awkwardness. “So, you’ll just lick me and—and I’ll absorb your magical healing powers?” I try to force the sarcasm from my voice because that’s all I have. It’s either sarcasm or shuddering nonsense.

  He gives another drool-worthy half smile at my attempt to think through all this. “It’s not magic, but, yeah, sure, let’s call me magical.”

  I can’t look him in the eye, and our silence lingers long enough for him to speak again. “Listen, maybe it’s a harmless berry bush. Maybe we will eat them all tonight. Maybe they’ll be delicious. But maybe,” he tilts his head in speculation, “maybe they’re not. There are an infinite number of things in nature that are deadly. Beautiful but deadly.” He pauses looking around at the threatening environment he just described. “Ky and Charlotte are at least a mile up river. With every step you take, you could be pumping the poison farther into your blood stream. You could be dead before you even utter the word berry to them.” His brows are raised and he’s holding back a laugh at the mortal panic that’s settling into me and making a home in my incapable lungs.

  “Okay. Just do whatever mystical thing it is that your DNA does already,” I say darting my eyes away from him.

  I turn my neck toward him and keep focused on the leaves at our feet. The design of them, the rough, dry edges, the thin lines that splay through them. I also try to keep my breaths coming in and out. In and out. My breathing is a simple process that I now have to put so much focus on.

  I hear him take a step closer to me, his body brushing mine, his boots crushing the little leaves I had mapped out earlier. His fingers brush against my neck, holding my head in his hand. His palm is cool against my warm skin. A tingle breaks out along my collar at his touch and the feel of his breath on my neck.

  He moves skillfully, like a praying mantis preparing to devour its mate. And I’m just about to tell him to wait and I’ll take my chances when his lips touch my neck. The small traces of air I was harboring leave my lungs. I expect to feel burning or stinging from the wound, but it’s very much the opposite.

  He kisses my neck lightly at first, and I try to keep my eyes focused on each individual leaf in my sight again, studying every fallen shape of nature into my memory, trying to remain calm. He’s trying to help me, to cure me, but my mind starts drifting in another direction.

  He opens his mouth and I feel his tongue against my neck, warm and hesitant. I take a sharp breath as a heat spreads through my core. His tongue traces against my skin between kisses, and I fist his shirt in my hands to steady myself. I close my eyes and clamp my mouth shut to try and keep any composure I might have left.

  His mouth trails against my neck, nipping occasionally, and I feel his other hand grip my waist tightly, pulling me even closer. My body molds happily and lithely against his.

  “Asher,” I say in a breathy voice.

  His mouth keeps moving slowly against my neck until he’s at the low point where it meets my shoulder. The tingling that’s frantically soaring through me starts to settle in and build low in my stomach, creating something impatient. Something demanding. I take another deep breath and move impossibly closer to him. Pushing one hand against his hard chest while the other mindlessly strays to his neck, clinging tightly to keep me grounded to him.

  “Asher,” I say again in a whisper.

  He hums against my neck in response. A shiver pulls down my spine.

  I try to think. Somewhere rolling around on the floor of my mind is a question forming, but I can’t grasp it. My brows tense, trying to form a basic thought. “Do you think it’s working?” I finally ask when a little light shines through the haze of my mind.

  He gives another slow sweep of his tongue against my neck before pausing. He rests his head against my shoulder, his hand still holding my hip. My now weak body is flush against his strong body. “Do you think that’s enough?” I say again against his chest as I try to quietly catch my breath.

  He nods and takes a step back from me. He glances at my neck as he pushes his fingers roughly through his messy hair. I try to let my eyes adjust to the light of the sun and attempt, once again, to steady my breathing without looking too affected by his touch.

  “Do you think that’ll work? Is there anything else I should do?” I say, trying to sound polite, reaching for the medical professionalism I know I have somewhere.

  He smiles with hooded eyes, and I notice he is also breathing heavy. Did I affect him? Surely not. It must be an exhausting source of power he just shed to help me.

  “No, that should be enough,” he says huskily, right before he pops a berry into his mouth.

  He watches me with a growing smile as he chews exceptionally slow. Though I’m always intrigued when he eats anything, my eyebrows pull together in confusion.

  “Don’t eat those,” I say trying to push the second berry from his hand, but I fail and he throws it into the air, making a show of catching the red fruit in his mouth like a trained dog. Again, his smile widens even further, exposing nearly every perfect tooth in his gorgeous mouth. He gives a small chuckle as I look at him with worry.

  “Those might kill you. I have no idea what the limits of your immortality are but it’d be kind of embarrassing if you died from a berry, don’t you think?”

  “They’re just Tayberries. Perfectly safe to eat. My grandmother’s favorite actually,” he says with a laugh before walking away from me.

  I stomp after him through the trees, kicking up dry leaves and dirt with each angry step. “You knew the whole—’’ My yelling voice is muffled as he pushes his palm against my mouth and pulls me behind a tree. My anger cools as I see how alert he is. His eyes shift slowly through our surroundings like he’s taking an inventory of every twig in the forest and something isn’t adding up.

  He stands in front of me. He raises a finger to his lips to silence anything I might say before lowering his palm from my mouth. His body nearly covers mine, just as it did a few moments earlier, but this time he’s deadly tense. His hand rests on the hilt of the Crimson Sword at his waist.

  His jaw ticks as he listens for something my human ears are oblivious to. Looking at him now, at his stance, at the aggression he’s harboring, it’s clear to me that the birds were wise to fear him. Maybe I too should have taken notes from the prey within the woods.

  I take his free hand in mine, but his eyes never stop calculating, even as I trace against his palm.

  What
is it?

  He glances down at me. His eyes boring into mine.

  Don’t show fear.

  My palm tingles at his words, and I take them in slowly. He could have given me any advice. He could have told me to run. To hide. But whatever’s out there, I can’t escape. I can’t outrun it, and I can’t hide. I can just raise my head and swallow down the alarms that are firing through my nervous system.

  He grips my hand in his, lacing our fingers with a squeeze, before he jerks away from me. I’m barely able to register his movements as his body collides with someone.

  He holds the familiar looking person by his throat against a neighboring tree. Each muscle in his arm and back constricts as he lifts the hybrid off the ground. I stare into the gray eyes of the red-headed hybrid from the compound. He sees me, his silver, dilated eyes trying to focus on me before his head unsteadily sways back to Asher. He doesn’t look afraid as they assess each other.

  The hybrid doesn’t struggle or gasp for air against Asher’s strength. His heaving chest is the only indication that his current state, pinned to an old oak tree by his throat, might be slightly uncomfortable.

  “What the hell are you doing out here, Gabriel?” Asher asks as casually as if they were drinking and catching up on old times at the compound.

  The hybrid lifts his arm slowly and signs something. Asher lowers him back to the ground. He signs something faster now. Whatever Gabriel is saying causes Asher to look to our left. His gaze lingers there like he might be able to see something in the distance that I can’t make out.

  “He said he’s part of the search party Shaw sent out for me. Shaw’s given him and a few other hybrids their sedatives and sent them out to their deaths to find me. They’re to search for days and then return to the compound before their shift ends or the new chip he’s inserted into their palms will detonate. A sort of lethal tracking device. Shaw’s never lost a hybrid before and it must be killing him that it was me who got away.” Asher pauses at these words and swallows hard.