Chapter 205

“What happens now?” I asked, my heart in my throat. This felt like the end before we’d even begun.

“Now, things get more complicated,” Chase said with a sigh.

More complicated didn’t mean finished. “The article can still move forward?”

“Oh, yeah. Trust me, now I’m even more curious. They definitely have something to hide.” Chase grinned, clearly enjoying the challenge. “Fortunately for me, I know some people who can hack into anything. This little roadblock is just that.”

“Good,” Asher said. “These bastards need to be stopped.”

“We can agree on that,” Chase said.

I agreed as well. It made me sick to think about how Joseph and his cronies were still out there targeting and extorting girls on campus. I wanted vengeance for what they did to me, sure, but my biggest concern was protecting the other victims.

Asher, as if sensing my distress, came closer to me. He nudged his arm into mine, a gentle touch.

“We’ll stop them.” He sounded so sure, I was helpless but to trust him.

Chase stretched and rose from the computer chair. “Nothing to worry about. I’ll call my hacker friend tonight. They are a night owl anyway.”

“Thank you,” I told him earnestly.

“Anything for my brother’s girl,” he said.

I blushed.

He held his hand out for me to shake again. “Goodnight, Cynthia,” he said, holding my one hand with both of his.

“Goodnight,” I said.

“Alright, alright.” Asher gave him a small shove. “That’s enough.”

“No need to be jealous, Asher,” Chase laughed on his way to the door. “Come out into the hall a minute. I want to talk to you.”

Asher grumbled but obliged.

In the hallway Asher started to close the door behind him, but Chase turned to lean against it, keeping it open just enough for me to be able to overhear.

I couldn’t tell if Asher had noticed. From the way Chase leaned, hiding the opened door, I doubted it.

I didn’t want to eavesdrop, but with the open door, I could hear almost every word they said.

“You mentioned she was your girlfriend,” Chase said. “You didn’t say anything about living together.”

“She’s in a tough spot. I’m helping out.”

“Maybe that line works on other people, but not me. Her things are so intermixed with yours, you might as well be married.”

Asher said something dismissive. I couldn’t make it out, but I recognized that tone.

Chase continued, “Listen, the poor girl has been through a lot. Maybe it’s her I’m worried about, not you. What exactly are your intentions toward her?”

I froze. Every one of my senses reached out to the door, I was so desperate to know the answer.

“Cynthia is my mate,” Asher said, plain as can be, with not a single dramatic flare. Like he was simply stating a fact, and not explain that he shared with me the deepest possible connection one person could have with another.

Maybe, to him, it really was that simple.

Yet to have him tell a member of his family felt like this added another layer of weight. A realism. A finality. Like, once we told their families, that was it. We’d decided to stay together.

My heart raced out of control.

“That’s good enough for me,” Chase said, and stepped away from the door.

A moment later, Asher pushed the door. He looked at it, confused as to how it was still open. Then he looked to me.

I didn’t bother hiding the fact that I’d overheard.

Fully in the room, he closed the door behind him. Then he walked toward the kitchenette. “You want dinner?”

I blinked. Was he just going to pretend like nothing happened? Like nothing changed?

“You told Chase we’re mates,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. No big deal.

“But… well, we haven’t talked about it.”

Asher’s brow furrowed. “Cynthia. You know about the mating bond. That makes us mates. Unless you didn’t want…?”

“I do!” I said quickly. “I do…”

Abandoning the kitchen, he made his way to me. “Then what’s wrong? Should I not have told Chase?”

“No, I don’t mind him knowing.” Putting what troubled me into words proved difficult. “But we haven’t talked about what being mates really means.”

“Did I not make myself clear last night?”

I was still holding Asher’s notes, so he plucked the notebook from my hands and set it aside on the desk. Then he stepped closer to me and placed his hands on my hips.

“Cynthia,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “Is it not obvious?”

His sudden closeness, coupled with the memories from last night, ignited my desires. I surged forward and kissed him.

Immediately, I snapped back, breaking the kiss. Maybe he hadn’t meant things romantically. Maybe I shouldn’t be kissing him.

My thoughts went down a familiar spiral. What did this mean? How did he really feel?

But then he chased my lips, pressing his mouth back to mine and I forgot about everything else for a while. I lost myself to his clever hands, and it wasn’t until the next morning that I was ready to face the world again.

Early in the morning, Asher and I sat at the small table as he explained to me his notes. Inside were many acronyms and acrostics that Asher had used to help him remember the names of terms and their placement in the body.

Asher was a good teacher, patient though strict. He wouldn’t let me slide with being merely close enough. We reviewed and reviewed until I had it perfect.

It was hard work, but worth it. My confidence was slowing being restored. With these new tricks, I felt hope. Maybe I wouldn’t do so badly on this section after all.

It also helped that when I did well, Asher would smile and said, “Good girl.”

The endearment sent a pleasant shiver through me. This was added incentive to do well.

We were just beginning to review the terms for the nervous system, when a knock sounded on the door.

I looked down at my pajamas. I’d be embarrassed to have anyone see me like this.

“Were you expecting someone?” I asked.

“No.” Asher’s smile had vanished, replaced with his emotionless mask. “Stay here. I’ll get rid of them.”

Asher stood and walked to the door. “Who is it?” he called without opening it.

No one replied.

“Maybe they had the wrong door?” I asked.

Asher frowned, grim. He stepped to the side, blocking me from the door with the shield of his body. Then he opened it.

He stood there a moment in total silence.

“Asher?” I turned in the chair.

“Stay back, Cynthia.” He leaned down and picked something up off the ground. When he righted himself, he closed the door.

He turned to me, and I finally saw what he held in his hands.

It was a hockey helmet, just like the ones Asher wore with his team. In fact, someone had crudely added Asher’s number to the side with masking tape.

A knife was jammed through the top of the helmet.

“Asher!” I hopped from the chair and rushed toward him.

“It’s a message,” he said, entirely too calm.

A message? This was a threat!

I didn’t have to ask who would do such a thing. I already knew the answer.

Asher did too. I could tell from the way his eyes iced over.

Only one person we knew would make a threat like this.

Joseph.