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cakesunflower · 5 years ago

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Better Light [Demon!Ashton AU] One Shot

A/N: so this one shot was a LONG time coming. i promised this to @irwinkitten MONTHS ago and i finally finished it, so it’s dedicated to her and @sexgodashton aka my two favorite Ashton hoes.

this one shot was inspired by my love for the show Supernatural and my curiosity as to what happens to a person after they’ve been possessed by a demon and that demon is no longer in control of them. i think the tone of this piece is heavy, as is some of the subject material, in a sense. there’s also smut and some lowkey violent scenes. it’s 26k of just....a lot. so ya know, grab a snack and enjoy.

happy reading!

He knew she was completely aware of his presence, knew she sensed every second his eyes remained on her, tracking her every move in the limited space behind the counter. To her credit, she remained focused on her tasks; taking orders, making the drinks, handing the finished ones over to the customers. But every now and then, Ashton would see the way Belle’s dark green eyes would wander into the corner he claimed as his own, chewing on her lower lip before looking away, because he knew she couldn’t keep her gaze on him for more than a few seconds at a time. Belle couldn’t stand to look at him, the feeling ever so mutual—except Ashton didn’t have much of a choice. He had a promise to uphold.

So he sat in the chair in his corner, the music playing through the cafe not entirely atrocious, as he sipped at the iced coffee he’d bought. He no longer hated to admit that the taste had grown on him over the years, a drink he preferred over the options he had to consider back in the thirties. It was less than a century ago, sure, but sometimes he could still taste the savory flavor of the rum he’d mixed with his tea what felt like a lifetime ago. It was, if he thought about it, in human terms.

The afternoon buzz of the cafe was one he’d gotten used to, a college town with students filtering in and out to get their fix or settle at one of the tables near outlets to charge up their laptops and get their work done. Ashton’s lips curled in irritation as a mother with a screaming baby grabbed her drink, his gaze sharp and aggravated as he watched her, feeling the primal urge of quieting the kid down himself. But the woman was hasty, exiting the shop and taking the screeching child with her, and Ashton’s shoulders settled as he took another sip of his drink, eyes sliding back to Belle.

Except she wasn’t where she should be. His jaw tightened, sitting up as his eyebrows drew together, hazel eyes flickering around to catch sight of her. She wasn’t slick enough to slip out of his gaze without any trouble.

But then she emerged from the back rooms, and Ashton ignored the slightest prickles of relief at the sight of her shrugging on her jacket as she waved to her two coworkers before proceeding towards the door. Ashton saw the way Belle’s gaze flickered to him, realizing he was still there, but she kept going after averting her gaze once more. Her pace quickened, and Ashton knew that she knew that wasn’t going to do anything, and so he slowly got up and followed her as she left, dropping his near empty cup in the trash as he opened the door and followed her down the sidewalk.

She was only a few paces ahead, hands shoved in the pockets of her denim jacket to shield her from whatever November cold in Florida brought, and Ashton’s boots clicked on the pavement as he lifted his chin and demanded flatly, “Where are you going?” Her shift, normally, wasn’t over for another two hours.

Belle paused ever so slightly, her steps faltering at the sound of his voice, before continuing. She glanced over her shoulder, head ducked, before turning her head back. Ashton would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a swell of satisfaction at her show of intimidation. Even if it was something he wasn’t entirely used to. “I wasn’t feeling good—” Belle replied, digging her keys out as she approached her car. An old, beat up, pathetic little thing since it was all she could afford. Ashton stood at the passenger door, looking at her from over the hood of the vehicle. He saw the way her throat worked, gaze on her keys as she unlocked the door. Her gaze met his, ever so briefly, as his teeth pressed together when her green eyes met his hazel. “My manager let me off early.”

Her movements were quick, yanking the door open and ducking inside, and Ashton rolled his eyes as he pulled open the door and got in the passenger seat, grunting in annoyance when just as he settled, Belle blindly threw her bag towards him. His eyes twitched into a glare as Belle froze in realization of accidentally hitting him, the subtle fear that flickered in her eyes tightening Ashton’s jaw. “Watch it,” he snapped, tossing the bag to the backseat, ignorant of the things inside that thudded at the rough action.

“Sorry,” Belle muttered, slamming her door shut right after Ashton did. As she started up the car, she added, “Not like I expected you to get in.”

He detected the mild irritation that coated her voice as he spoke. If any measly person even thought of speaking to him in a tone he didn’t appreciate, Ashton wouldn’t hesitate on showing them the consequences of their disrespect. But with Belle it was. . . Refreshing, despite the rarity of it. In the twisted way that reminded him of being around someone who wasn’t afraid of telling him what was on their mind, even if he didn’t want to hear it. And even though every time he heard her voice, or looked into her eyes, and didn’t see the person he once used to, it still sparked something in his veins.

A complicated kind of affection—maybe that was too strong of a word, but Ashton just didn’t know anymore—for the human beside him who wanted nothing to do with him.

As Belle stopped the car at a red light, Ashton watched her from his peripheral. He watched as she released her hair from the confines of the pony tail, the black strands falling around her shoulders as she ran her fingers through them, eyes closing as she let out a sigh. She was tired, he could tell, as she tilted her head back, thumbs lazily tapping against the steering wheel, the subtle sound being the only one in the otherwise silent car.

Her throat worked and he scoffed in annoyance, “If you can’t handle two jobs, stop overworking yourself, for fuck’s sake.”

It was useless advice coated in vexation, deriving from not just her state in the moment, but from months of seeing her juggle two jobs; the one at the cafe and another at a popular clothing store in town, only a day and a half for herself during the week. Though Belle never complained—not to him, anyway, knowing he wasn’t keen or caring enough to listen. But he wasn’t blind to see the toll it was taking on her, the exhaustion in which she functioned through, a shell of a woman he didn’t really know. Twice over.

Belle opened her eyes, looking at him with a frown that didn’t hold any true malice, just hints of defeat and her own level of frustration. Sometimes, when she let some of her anger, her upset, her resentment melt into the green of her eyes, Ashton could swear he could see the one he wanted, the one he missed, the one he mourned, slip through. Not that it was impossible to see hints of her reflect in Belle’s eyes; Enya had used Belle as her vessel for over a year. It wasn’t hard to think that traits of her demon possessor slipped into Belle’s own subdued personality.

“Who’s gonna pay my bills? You?” Belle retorted, looking away just in time to miss Ashton’s scowl as the light turned green and she began driving again. With a resigned mutter, she added, “Some of us need money to survive.”

Ashton scoffed, gaze returning to the road ahead. He didn’t feel for her. He didn’t care for her mundane, human problems. He was just here because he had to be. “Not much of a survivor if you’re about to collapse on your fuckin’ feet.”

As she pulled up to another red light, Ashton heard Belle retort quietly, “Survived your girlfriend, didn’t I?”

Wrong choice of words on her part, as the vicious, demonic part of him came to the surface, a snarl escaping Ashton’s curled lips as ring clad fingers reached out to grasp her jaw. Belle nearly choked on her gasp, eyes widening in startelement as Ashton forced her to look at him, tugging her towards him with the tight grip he had, the distance between them minimal as his darkened eyes shot daggers at her. Not entirely black, but holding every bit of anger and resentment he could conjure that trailed into his fingers, the voice in his head demanding him to let up. He complied, just a little, if only not to actually harm her.

He could smell her strawberry body wash, a change from the coconut that Enya used to lather onto her vessel, and it tightened the knot in his stomach painfully. Ashton was used to having his emotions tune into the reactions of his body, but the pounding of his heart against his chest was aching, too human, the savagery in which he was born in maliciously coaxing him into just flicking his wrist. That’s all it would take to end it. It would be so easy. His teeth bared, lips scrunched with the tightness of his jaw as he looked at her, drank in the fear glassing her eyes, too frozen to fight or pull away. Yeah. It’d be so fucking easy to end her for her words.

Except there was that voice in his head again, not one of his own, demanding him to let her go. Ashton’s teeth ached from the tightness as he recognized it as Belle’s voice—except it wasn’t Belle’s voice. Not really. It sounded the same, but Belle didn’t speak in the smoky tone he was so used to, her way of speaking silvery and light and low. The difference was one of the first things Ashton had picked up on when Enya was gone and Belle returned. A change he was still getting used to. A change both of them were still adjusting to, difficult and trying in their own terms.

The voice in his head was that of Enya’s, reminding him of the promise he made, of Enya’s last wish just in case things took a turn for the worst for her. Which they did. And now Ashton was left fulfilling the promise for the rest of his life. Even if it felt like it was tearing him apart. Sometimes he figured the torture his kind inflicted in Hell was more bearable than this.

Ashton fought his dark instincts, exhaled roughly through his nose as he narrowed his eyes at Belle, her own watery and wide and clearly terrified. A sadistic satisfaction ran through his veins as he parted his lips, voice low, dark, dangerous as he warned, “Watch yourself.”

Two simple words. Enough to have Belle pushing herself away from Ashton once he released her, even though he wasn’t constricting her air. Not physically, anyway. How easy would it have been to do so.

He settled back in his seat, looking straight ahead, willing himself to relax, to reign in the fury that had overwhelmed him enough to almost disregard Enya’s promise. No matter what Belle said or did, Ashton couldn’t fucking lose it like that. He couldn’t give into the malicious desires that were wired into him as a soldier of Hell. Achieving the status he had didn’t come from him breaking necks and losing his temper whenever he felt like it. Allowing it to take over him just because Belle let her mouth run was as pathetic as a human. He needed to keep it in check. For Belle’s own sake, he hoped she kept her damn mouth shut.

The car behind them sounded its horn loudly and impatiently, the light having turned green, but Belle was still absently staring ahead, still recovering from the malevolence she’d just been at the receiving end of, the sounds of her panting shallow and arduous. Ashton knew her to be trying to keep her tears at bay, to try and preserve some of her dignity as to not cry in front of him. He’d been around her for a few months now and had yet to see her break down in his presence. Amusedly, Ashton figured it was only a matter of time.

The honking behind him grew irritating and Ashton rested his elbow on the windowsill of the door, two fingers pressed to his temple and with a low growl, Ashton said, “Drive before I set that fucker on fire.”

He was pretty sure that was the quickest Belle ever drove home.

*****

For the first time, Belle felt herself let go. There was a lightness in her body she hadn’t felt in a long time, constantly weighed down by the stress and anxiety of reentering the world as herself, attempting to get rid of the burden of her body unwillingly not being her own for over a year. She hadn’t been herself, too literally in that sense, and had been desperate to regain some kind of control over herself. For so long she had been a backseat driver for a life that wasn’t hers, watching the events unfold and having no say in what happened—left to retreating into her own head as she watched her hands drive a knife into someone’s chest, felt the bones crack under her touch when she snapped a neck.

The road to assuring herself that what she had witnessed, endured, done weren’t her actual doing was long and strenuous. She knew blaming herself for retreating into her mind to avoid the actions of someone else through her own body wouldn’t do her any good, that it wasn’t her fault for closing herself off to numb the effects of actions not her own. But too often there were nights where she closed her eyes and saw her hands reach out to end the life of someone else, and though more often than not the other wasn’t human, they had been at some point. The sensation of bones fatally cracking under her skin was eerily ingrained into her head, and maybe the alcohol she’d drink tonight would be enough to drown it out. Just for a little while, at least.

It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her doing. The reminder rang through Belle’s head in her own voice with every shot she took and every sip of her drink, burying it under the alcohol and the music playing through the sports bar she was patroning with her co-workers.

“I’m so glad you came out with us, Belle!” Maddie cheered happily, hand wrapped around her glass of Henny and coke while her free arm draped around Belle’s shoulders. A giddy, tipsy grin upturned her glossy lips, pulling Belle into her for a sideways hug.

“Yeah, after months of us trying to convince you,” Piper teased, standing right across from them at their circular table that was littered with their drinks and used shot glasses.

Belle had drank some, enough to feel the pleasant buzz make its way through her system, enough to bring a smile appear easily to her own face. “I know, I know,” she soothed, twirling the black straw around her half empty margarita. Maddie’s grip on her was kind of comforting, Belle realized, as she gave her friend a squeeze and said, “I’m here now.”

Her friends cheered and it was pathetically hilarious that they had no idea to what literal extent she meant her words with.

Paul bought the next round of shots, the five of them gathered around the table as Belle joined them in licking the bit of salt off her hand, downing the shot and reaching for her slice of lime. She reveled in the bitterness that stung her throat, slamming the glass back down and laughing alongside her friends because she could. Regaining the control over her life, over her actions, hadn’t been something Belle was able to indulge in until now, surrounded by people she had slowly befriended after months of paranoia and fear.

How she hadn’t driven herself crazy was a question she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to. Belle had a feeling it had something to do with the fact that over the year when she hadn’t been herself, the one who’d overtaken her sometimes talked to her.

Belle remembered how the sound of her own voice was of a lower tone, smoky and mysterious and frightening. How that voice, belonging to the demon she’d come to know as Enya, would tell her that she’d just have to get used to being the backseat driver of her own body. She’d been harsh, crude in the beginning, until slowly her tone had become nicer when speaking to Belle. Kinder in a way that Belle hadn’t thought of her to be capable of—honestly, what demon was nice to the one whose body they decided to possess? It all sounded hysterical, a joke the universe played on her as she lost a year of her life to a demon that decided to take her for a ride.

She’d heard about them before, rumors and whispers of Hell’s soldiers roaming the earth, making deals and coming to collect when the time came, using unwilling bodies as vessels to easily make their way around. Old legends that people refused to listen to as an attempt of holding onto humanity’s sanity, trying to restrain any panic that may arise at the knowledge of those wandering the earth that don’t really belong. It wasn’t something Belle had ever concerned herself with, naively figuring it wasn’t an ordeal that would ever involve her.

God, she’d been so wrong.

She’d been violated. That’s how she saw it, no other words really quite described how she had felt, no matter how. . . nice Enya had been. She still took over Belle. Used her to do horrific things she would probably have nightmares about for the rest of her life. And though she couldn’t say it out loud over fear of the consequences, a sense of relief warmed her at the knowledge of Enya being gone for good.

Except. . . That wasn’t all she felt.

Belle sipped her margarita again, hoping the tequila would rid of the prickle of grievance she felt over Enya’s death.

How could she possibly mourn the one who made her life not her own?

Belle finished her drink. She needed more.

The bar grew busy with each hour Belle spent with her friends, each drink she consumed allowing for her to let go just a little bit more. She felt free. Felt like herself. Or what she assumed was herself, a year spent trying to hold onto who she used to be in case she ever got her life back.

A lot was left to figure out.

The group of them was by one of the pool tables they had commandeered as Paul and Piper, who were still able to handle a pool stick, played a round. Maddie was flirting with one of the guys at the other table, and Belle leaned back against the wood paneled wall by Paul and Piper’s table, taking a break from the drinks as her eyes remained closed, body swaying to the beat of the music playing over the sounds of everyone chattering. She wasn’t doing much, ignoring her surroundings and letting the music seep into her just like she’d let the alcohol to, but Belle felt good. Felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You alright?” She opened her eyes to see Ollie, one of her other co-workers, leaning next to her. He was a bit taller than her, cute with his blue eyes glassy and shaggy dirty blonde hair sweeping across his forehead. Belle could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned towards her, not entirely minding because she could taste it on her own mouth.

“Mhm,” Belle hummed loosely, hands pressed to the wall under her lower back as she opened her eyes, hooded gaze on him. “I feel great. Better than I have in a long time.” She could hear the slur and slowness of her words, but she didn’t care.

“Oh yeah?” Ollie grinned with a raise of his eyebrows, boyish and kind of cute, and Belle’s gaze dropped to his hand lightly taking ahold of hers. She lifted her gaze back up at him as he said, “I can make you feel even better.”

His words were completely cheesy and if Belle was sober maybe she would have laughed in his face. But instead, she let Ollie take her hand and pull her towards the hallway off on the side leading towards the bathroom, out of their friends’ line of sight as he pushed her against the wall and pressed his lips to hers.

Belle relaxed into him, into the warmth of his body, tasting the beer on his lips as he savored the tequila from hers. His lips were unfamiliar but soft, his hands settling within the backside pockets of her jeans as he pressed his front to hers. Belle moved her lips with his, her arms around his neck, losing herself in the moment. It had been so long since she’d kissed someone, since she’d felt the warmth of another’s body against hers.

She was in control. She was the one who was able to enjoy giving into whoever she wanted. The choice was finally back in her hands.

Until it wasn’t.

Because just as Ollie’s hips pressed into Belle’s, the action welcomed and needed, it was suddenly gone. She heard the sound of his protesting exclaim over the music, eyes snapping open at the sudden loss, blinking in startlement with kissed lips parted as she caught sight of Ollie against the wall opposite of her.

Except she couldn’t really see him, and it wasn’t because of the dim lighting of the hallway. Someone stood before him, blocking Belle’s view of her friend, her erratic heart sinking when she recognized the head of black hair on the tall figure. She stumbled forward, a breathless, “Oh, my God,” escaping her when she caught sight of ring glad fingers gripping the front of Ollie’s shirt, blinking rapidly as he tried to quickly adjust to this new position he’d been put into.

Belle’s heart was thundering, suddenly a bit too sober as her mouth dried, her heels clicking against the floor as she absently moved forward. She took in Ollie’s expression, alarmed and panicked at the man who was so easily pressing him against the wall, hands gripping the wrist keeping him in place.

She slowly approached them, feeling a frightened weakness in her knees as she slid her gaze over to Ashton, who’s hazel eyes were fixated on the terrified man he refused to let go of. “A-Ashton.” His name stuttered past her trembling lips, the panic tightening her chest. She neared them as if she was a predator circling her prey, though to think Ashton wasn’t the most dangerous one in this entire bar would be completely naive. Belle noted the tightness of his sharp jaw in the shadows of the hallway, the fixated look in his eyes on Ollie paralyzingly menacing. Belle swallowed, chancing a glance at Ollie, who was mute with his own panic. “Let him go. He didn’t—everything’s fine.”

Maybe the quiver of her voice wasn’t helping her sound the least bit convincing, but Belle couldn’t quite get a steady grasp on it. Not when Ashton stood in front of her, tall and intimidating and threatening, hand just a few inches away from choking the life out of Ollie. Her breath rushed out of her lungs at the sight of his face, shadowed in the hall, because there wasn’t any expression washed over it. No, instead, it was deceptively blank save for the clench of his jaw, but Belle wasn’t naive enough to ignore the definite possibility of a rage burning in his hazel eyes darkened by the anger she didn’t understand he felt. Her fingers shook, the blood in her veins trembling with fright, terrified that whatever she had to say was falling on deaf ears and Ashton would just proceed to do as he pleased. There really was nothing stopping him.

“Everything’s fine?” A shiver crept down her spine at the low tone of Ashton’s accented voice, the force of it enough to reach her ears over the music of the bar, everyone else completely oblivious to the situation at hand. Ashton’s head tilted as he finally looked away from a petrified Ollie, eyes meeting Belle’s widened ones, her already erratic heart picking up its pace when she noted the hard expression he suddenly wore. His features were tight, hazel eyes dark and black hair pushed back, and Ashton easily kept Ollie in place as he continued in a dangerously even tone, “I would think so—since you don’t look so sick. Nothing a little booze can’t fix, huh?”

Her stomach dropped, twisting and tight along the way, at the taut tone in which he spoke in, words referring to earlier in the day. Belle prided herself in not being so naive, but she had stupidly thought she’d gotten away with the little act she had put on after work. The relief of possibly outsmarting the demon shadowing her survived from the moment Ashton left her apartment, satisfied with the seeming knowledge of her staying in for the night, to right now—him having caught her red handed and five seconds away from suffocating her friend.

Belle’s heart jumped into her throat as Ashton let go of Ollie, the man falling to his knees with a startled gasp, but her gaze was trained on Ashton. He slowly approached her, tall figure easily dominating her shorter stature, the black ensemble he donned easily making him appear as dangerous as he was.

She couldn’t look away, frozen in place with the air trapped in her lungs as he came to a stop in front of her. He looked down at her, in every sense of the word, as his hand wrapped around her upper arm, the warmth of his touch and cold of his rings stark against her skin as he tightened his grip and announced, “Think you’ve had enough for tonight.”

A silence enveloped her, the music from the bar gone as they now stood in the living room of her tiny studio apartment, alone and in the dark save for the single light on in the kitchen. But Belle barely had a second to adjust to the sudden change of scenery, a surprised sound escaping her when her back was suddenly pressed to the nearest wall, a position she’d been in just minutes ago. Except this time, all she felt was her usual walls going up with weary eyes on Ashton, the hand on her arm suddenly splayed across her upper throat, right under her chin, fingers pressing into the line of her jaw as she sucked in a sharp breath.

Never any real pressure, but the threat not lost.

When her gaze met Ashton’s, she desperately wished it was a trick of the lack of light, but knew there was no such luck as she found herself staring into the utter blackness that had taken over his eyes. A deep abyss she could see her own reflection in, the sight of it distracting her from the fleeting thought that there was no real pressure against her throat. Ashton’s grip was on her, but not nearly as tight enough to deprive her of air. Just a show of his power, a silent warning that if he wanted to, he could squeeze until he didn’t have to anymore.

She knew he could feel her erratic pulse in his grip, figured he probably reveled in it as his blackened eyes took in the sight of her, savoring the widening of her glassy eyes and panicked raise of her eyebrows. Ashton leaned towards her, the scent of his fresh cologne achingly familiar as it tickled her nose. A loose strand of his dark hair fell over his forehead, the end just barely curling into his eye, and Belle was startled by the unexpected itch to push it out of his face.

He was so close, the distance between them minimal, and Belle wasn’t quite sure how she was managing keeping her eyes locked with his. She knew that the only thing keeping her upright was his grip on her combined with the weight of his body pressing against her. Her heartbeat wasn’t easing any time soon, the closeness not one she was used to but still familiar. Belle wasn’t used to the sensation of Ashton’s warm body against hers, but her body was. And it was paralyzing to feel herself wanting to give in out of her own accord.

She wanted to look away, but he wouldn’t let her, forcing her to see the emptiness of his black eyes. “How stupid do you think I am that you could actually slip away from me? And for what?” He gave a cock of his head, eyelashes fluttering to let her know he was running his gaze from her eyes to her lips and then back again. There was a subtle disapproving scrunch of his nose as he continued darkly, “Just so you could fuck around with worthless scum?”

“I don’t—” Belle paused as she swallowed inaudibly, no doubt that Ashton could feel it under his touch. She knew there was no reasoning with him, but wanted to say her piece anyway. Her voice was timid, unsteady, but she found herself asking, “Why is anything I do any of your business? Why can’t I be allowed to live my life the way I finally want?”

“Which is what?” Ashton narrowed his eyes, tone unkind and mocking. “Screwing the first guy who takes a second look at you?” One of his fingers that held her jaw stroked her cheek, Belle’s body tensing at the action as Ashton neared her. He was close enough to smell, to feel, but not enough so their noses would touch. Belle got the feeling that he was purposeful in keeping that minimal distance. “Desperation’s not an attractive trait, Belle.”

God, the only thing she was desperate for was her freedom, which apparently she still didn’t entirely have. Her body may be her own once again, but there was still a demon haunting her life, shadowing her every move. Reminding her that she wasn’t alone no matter what she thought.

“Why don’t you just leave?” There was a tiredness in her voice now. The situation and alcohol she drank mixing together to bring forth an exhaustion she wanted to submit to in the comfort of her bed. Her head was back against the wall, Ashton’s grip still on her, no real pressure except for the burn of his touch and chill of his rings. “Whatever promise you think you have to keep, you don’t. I’m perfectly capable of living my life on my own.”

Or, at least, she was trying to be. It hadn’t exactly been easy to melt back into society after being possessed for a year, after having to witness the things she unwillingly had to. Paranoia and fright threatened to take over, but Belle refused to seek treatment within bottles of pills. Her mom had been a drug addict, she didn’t want to go down that path. Alcohol wasn’t a much safer choice, but there was no dependency. She knew too often it would make the paranoia worse.

When Belle looked at Ashton once more, she noted the crease in his forehead, eyebrows slightly drawn together. The indignation and mocking on his features was no longer present, a softness in his face that Belle hadn’t seen for months. Of course, when she did see it, it had never been towards her.

She felt his grip loosen, the palm of his hand sliding down until it rested at the base of her throat, fingers at the side of her neck as he looked at her. Belle remained still, unmoving, as Ashton’s head tired down, his gaze no longer on her. His voice was low as he said, “I may be the monster you think I am, but I’d never break a promise.” His throat worked. “Especially not to her.”

Belle hated that she knew his words to be true. Hated that she had been a witness to the unwavering love, something she didn’t know beings like them to be capable of, Ashton had felt for Enya, and vice versa. It was impossible for Belle not to be aware of Enya’s feelings, and for a long time she had feared that her own were getting mixed in as well. That she no longer could trust her own heart because for a year it had been devoted to the man in front of her. For a while, Belle had to get used to her own thoughts, her own feelings. Sometimes she still found herself trying to determine what was truly hers.

“And watching you with someone else—” Belle’s gaze returned to Ashton as he continued, noting the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, the crease in his eyebrows returning. He looked at her, and she took a breath as the blackness of his eyes dissolved to reveal his hazel irises.

She saw the hesitation in his eyes which he wasn’t quick enough to mask, but it wasn’t hard for Belle to imagine what Ashton’s train of thought was. Her throat worked, wondering if she was crazy to feel that stab of guilt in her chest, mixed with the sympathy of watching someone continuously mourn another they loved. They weren’t human, but Belle had been in close quarters with Enya long enough to find out that they. . . Weren’t so different.

So she instead of finishing his sentence for him, her voice was soft, not unkind, as she reminded him, “I’m not her.”

His jaw clenched, the reminder stinging despite the gentle tone Belle had uttered it in—not that it was something he needed to be reminded of. Belle knew he was devastatingly aware of how she wasn’t the one he loved; in the way she spoke, dressed in clothes that didn’t consist of black and leather—especially in the way she looked and acted around him. Because she didn’t look at him with kind eyes and warm smiles Belle didn’t know demons were capable of, didn’t accompany him on the deals and hunts like Enya did. Because she was finally back in control of her body and it was only because Enya was dead and Belle had survived.

It wasn’t her fault that Enya was gone and she was still around, and yet Belle still found herself, at times, feeling guilty because Ashton was left in the presence of the woman who wore a face once worn by the one he loved—all because he promised Enya he’d keep Belle safe. And while Belle wished he didn’t stick to his word, she could just imagine how much he was regretting it. Why she cared how he felt, how he was suffering when she knew him to damn souls to hell, knew him to be a killer—even if it was other demons—Belle wasn’t sure. Her humanity didn’t let anything be easy.

“No, you’re not.” His words were low, his tone accepting as it reminded himself of the fact. Ashton’s hazel eyes were on her, eyebrows twitching into a frown before he pursed his lips and took a step away from her, hand dropping back to his side. Belle released a small breath, watching as Ashton lifted his chin, expression falling blank once more. What little show of emotion he’d displayed had disappeared, the familiar hardness returning to his eyes. “But you’re my responsibility. So don’t try to act smart and hide from me.” His next few words were a mix of a promise and a warning, enough to close up Belle’s throat as Ashton added, “I will find you.”

She struggled to swallow the lump in her throat, still pressing herself against the wall despite the few steps now in between them. Ashton kept a steady gaze on her, the shadows of her small apartment sharp against his features, and Belle still couldn’t quite find her voice as she began, “My friends, th-they—”

Ashton rolled his eyes, licking his lips quickly as he gave a single shake of his head. “They’re fine. They’re just going to think you left with someone.” A ghost of a smirk quirked at his lips, condescending and wicked. “You’re lucky I erased his memory instead of snapping his neck. Won’t be so nice next time.”

He was out of sight right then, and not for the first time was Belle wondering how she ended up with a life like this.

*****

This wasn’t the first time his hands were coated in blood. But this felt the heaviest, like every drop of the crimson liquid carried its own weight. It shook his hands, trembled his fingers, and he knew it had nothing to do with the freezing weather and the snow that came with it. He ignored it, using his hands to pull her closer, left arm under her and right hand cupping her face. More blood smearing across her cheek. Breathless gasps struggled past her closing throat, her breath fogging in front of her, and despite the opposing temperature Ashton felt like his skin was on fire from paralyzing panic. Her body shook in his arms; coughing, gasping, dying.

“Th-this vessel—” Ashton struggled to hear her over his own heavy breathing, leaning close. The bodies around him didn’t mattered, massacred and lifeless with their blood staining the white snow. All he could focus on was Enya and whatever she was trying to utter. Her green eyes were glassy, lashes fluttering as she blinked, trying to return the humanlike consciousness she needed in order to speak. Ashton’s heart was thundering, wanting to hold her tight, but not wanting to hurt her more than she already was. “She’s losing a lot of blood, Ashton. I—” She squeezed her eyes shut, neck tensing, the blood against her skin a stain he wanted to rid of desperately. He never thought he could hate the sight of something so much. “You need—” Enya groaned and Ashton’s teeth hurt from how hard he was clenching them. So did his jaw, knowing his vessel was sporting bruises from the fight. She exhaled a sharp, pained breath through her nose. “Take her to the hospital.”

Ashton’s eyebrows drew together, not at all hearing any sense in her words as he expelled a confused breath. She wasn’t making any sense. Morbidly, Ashton figured that wasn’t a surprise, given the state of the situation. “I—The hospital?” What the fuck was the hospital going to do? A fucking human hospital wasn’t going to save En—

Oh.

His hazel eyes were wide in panic and disbelief, tightening his grip on her as he kept her close. “You want to save her?”

No. No fucking way. Why in eternal hell would he save the human when he couldn’t fucking save Enya?

“Ash—” Her hand grasped his wrist, her grip nowhere near as firm as he was used to, weakened by the wounds in her stomach, ice cold. The wounds that were slowly draining her centuries old life force. Wounds he couldn’t fix. Because there was no time. No choice. She would be gone and Ashton wanted to hold her. To fix this because this was not how this was supposed to go. The two of them against any and all of their enemies—that’s how it was supposed to be. And with every shuddering breath Enya exhaled, Ashton knew the chances of that were slipping away quicker than he could hold onto them. Her green eyes locked onto his hazel, and she offered a smile. A sad, frail smile that wasn’t her usual brilliant or sarcastic one he loved so much. “You-you promised.”

Yeah, he promised. He really hoped it wasn’t one he’d ever have to commit to.

The tears fell from his eyes and Ashton didn’t try to stop them. Emotions weren’t something he was too fond of; the coldness of hell had seeped into his bones deep enough to render Ashton indifferent to many—if not all—things. Except Enya. She effortlessly, every time, broke him down and Ashton never fought against it. He never fought against her. But right now, he desperately wanted to fight her against that stupid, mindless promise he made when Enya first took over her now dying vessel, never once believing it’d be one he’d have to carry. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Enya—” Ashton gave a violent shake of his head, hand going from her cheek to her hair, both of them ignorant of the blood that was being tracked into her dark strands, or of how it was morbidly staining the white snow she laid on. Neither of them ignorant of the crack in his voice as he couldn’t even say her name. There was a tightness in his chest and Ashton couldn’t breathe, his grip on her unrelenting, holding her as close to him as he could. Her skin was growing pale. Ashton knew what that meant. He wanted to rid of the salty taste of his tears. Of her crimson blood against the snow. Of all of this. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” Her voice was a frail whisper through an encouraging smile, eyes fluttering with the need to close them. Enya found the energy to slide her hand from his wrist up to his cheek, the warmth of her blood smearing across his cheek, though he could care less. He knew she could feel the way he was shaking. Her own trembling lips twitched up into a smile, an unsteady breath escaping her as she continued, “You can. I love you. Y-You know that, right?”

He knew. Of course he did. Her eyes fluttered and Ashton knew she was going. Knew he’d have to hurry to get the human to the hospital to at least save her. So Ashton pulled Enya close to him, hugged her to his chest as his cheek settled on the top of her head and free hand cradled the back of her neck. He shook. Shedding tears was so human of him, but he didn’t care. Not when he couldn’t be entirely sure if she heard him return the sentiment before she left.

*****

The mug shattered in Ashton’s hand, the breaking of ceramic a bit too deafening in the busy cafe as he instantly grew aware of the multiple sets of eyes now trained on him. He remained perfectly poised in his usual seat, right hand an empty fist now that there wasn’t a mug to hold yet his skin scalding with the coffee that was now coating it, jaw tight and sharp eyes returning everyone’s startled stares with his own murderous intent. If they kept staring, Ashton was not afraid of snapping his fingers and—

“You weren’t picturing doing that to someone’s head, were you?”

Ashton’s gaze flickered up to see Belle standing over him, hastily wiping down the table and carefully picking up the pieces of the mug. She didn’t meet his gaze as she pulled out a spare rag from the pocket of the black apron around her waist and handing it to him. The steaming drink didn’t hurt—it stung, but it didn’t hurt, he wasn’t that pathetic—yet Ashton took the rag anyway and wiped.

He didn’t miss her feeble attempt at a joke, if that’s what you wanted to call it. Ashton looked at her, at the face he’d just seen die in his head—except it wasn’t hers. Or, well, it was. It had belonged to someone he loved, someone who was gone, and Ashton was still struggling to accept it. Nothing could ever be easy, huh?

With a quirk of his eyebrow, he returned, “Don’t think you want the answer to that.”

He was kidding. Kind of. He didn’t picture her head. Or anyone’s. He just really fucking hated everything.

Ashton’s lips pursed. He sounded like a petulant human.

Belle’s throat worked, her green eyes meeting his hazel briefly, pausing in her picking up the broken pieces before continuing. Everyone around them had gone back to minding their own business, seemingly uncaring of the man who out of nowhere shattered a mug in his grip—not that he minded. Instead, Ashton’s gaze remained on Belle, on the way her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail while some loose strands framed her face. His throat tightened; Enya had enjoyed wearing makeup, enjoyed eyeliner and lipstick and everything in between that he never understood but always thought she looked gorgeous.

But Belle. . . Her face was free of makeup, utterly bare. Enough to show off the freckles that were scattered across the tops of her cheeks. A reminder of how different she was from Enya. A reminder of how she wasn’t Enya.

“I’m, uh,” Belle cleared her throat, holding the broken pieces of the mug. “I’m about to go on my break—do you, uh, need anything before I go?”

Instead of answering her question, Ashton lifted his chin and asked one of his own, “Where are you going for your break?”

“Nowhere,” Belle assured, standing straight. With a glance over her shoulder, she said, “Just the McDonalds across the back street.”

Ashton didn’t dignify her with a response, remaining sat with his back against the cushioned seat, wondering to himself if he was going to shadow her. Then he found himself wondering why he even bothered debating it because of course he was going to end up following her to keep an eye out. Promises, promises, promises.

He looked up at Belle once more, not breaking eye contact as he pulled out a ten dollar bill from his wallet and held it up between two fingers and said, “Another coffee.”

When Belle didn’t hear the creaking black back door of the cafe fall shut behind her, she briefly closed her eyes and let out a soft breath when she did hear the sound of a hand slapping against it, preventing it from closing so whoever had followed her could get through. The crunch of the alleyway ground under heavy boots was familiar, his presence behind her heavier as he trailed after her silently. Not for the first time, Belle wondered if he grew tired of, more or less, acting as her bodyguard. Wondered what it would take for him to forget about an ill-advised promise he made to his dead demon girlfriend. Had Enya even thought it through? Did she ever stop to consider what it would do to Ashton to have to stick around the person whose body Enya had worn, whose face had been one he associated Enya with? Ashton was terrifying and not someone to be messed with, Belle knew all too well, and in some weird way, she felt bad for him. She was human. She felt sympathy for the stoic demon who lost someone he loved and yet still had to see her face—or, maybe, one of the faces she’d worn—every day following her death.

Lost in her empathetic thoughts for the man trailing behind her, Belle hadn’t noticed the two in front of her that appeared out of nowhere—at least, not before Ashton did. His inhumane senses were sharp, and before Belle could process it, he was in front of her, frame larger than hers shielding her from the two intruders as his cologne immediately overpowered her, more so than the dumpster a few feet away. An uneasy shiver ran down Belle’s spine—not because of Ashton’s sudden closeness, but because of the new arrivals. It wouldn’t be surprising if whatever light that shone down on the alley from the sun above between the buildings they stood in the middle of suddenly got clouded over. Something in the air shifted, chilling and unnerving, a promise of an occurrence that would be better to avoid.

Belle couldn’t see ahead of them, the view of the two others blocked by Ashton as she heard his low voice warn, “Stay behind me.”

A lump of fright formed in her throat, curling her fingers into her palms to fight the unexpected need to grab onto Ashton. In the face of two unfamiliar demons, Belle was more than okay with standing behind this black haired one.

“Step aside, Ashton,” one of them stated, his calm voice holding a harsh edge to it. “We’re here for the human.”

Ashton’s hands clenched into fists. “I don’t think so.”

Another voice spoke up. “We weren’t asking.”

“Neither was I.”

There was an aggravated growl, and Belle was stumbling back with a startled gasp as the two men launched themselves at Ashton, her eyes widening in fright as Ashton quickly threw a punch at the first to stall him while ducking from the fist flying at him, kicking the legs right out from under the guy. But they were fast, recovered quickly, and Belle’s heart was pounding as if she was in the middle of that brawl, feeling herself freeze in momentary surprise when she wished that somehow Enya would show up and help out Ashton. Because despite her wariness and hesitance in Ashton’s presence, Belle knew he was around to protect her. Especially in moments like these. And she couldn’t do anything. She spent so long being possessed by a demon, one would think she picked up a few tricks.

Truthfully, she’d never know if she never tried, but fear was a paralyzing thing.

Somebody had a blade. Belle could tell in the heap of the men fighting, their grunts echoing in the alleyway as Ashton continued to hold his own against the other two, as the silver of the blade shined momentarily amidst the frantic movements, and Belle felt just the tiniest bit of relief when her alarmed eyes recognized it as the combat demon knife Enya had once gifted Ashton: sleek black hilt, shining silver blade with serrations in the middle.

He was quick to use it within the brawl, Belle’s breath hitching when kicked off one demon just to stab the knife through the other’s heart, prompting him to fall lifelessly with a heavy thud. Ashton’s hair was wild, black strands a mess amidst the fight as his sharp eyes met hers as he got back to his feet, stance purposeful and defensive as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. The remaining demon was getting to his feet, and Ashton had just enough time for his guttural voice to order at her, “Get inside!” before the guy launched.

Ashton’s voice served as some kind of spell that snapped Belle out of her frozen state, gasping in realization before her trembling body spun on her heel to run back into the cafe. Except she ran right into somebody’s chest, and Belle only had a brief moment to glance up and meet a pair of all black eyes before she was being gripped tightly, a protesting scream of, “No!” escaping her as the demon pressed her back against his chest, an arm tight around her waist, keeping her arms trapped down, while his free hand harshly grabbed her jaw. His fingers dug into her skin hard enough to leave a bruise, and she knew the demon could probably feel the pounding within her chest and was reveling in the fear he instilled in her.

There was a ringing in Belle’s ears, panicked and terrified because she knew that this was where it could end. She’d survived being possessed by a demon, and getting killed by one was almost morbidly poetic. Her breathing was labored and she could feel her lower lip quivering, a whimper escaping her despite her best efforts as the demon holding her called out in a tempered tone, “That’s enough!”

Belle’s gaze shot forward, watching as Ashton stood facing them, blade in hand and two demon bodies bleeding on the ground. Now all who was left was the one who was holding her, and Belle knew he wasn’t about to let go any time soon.

Her eyes were glassy, yet when she looked at Ashton, standing less than ten feet away, she noted the furious look he wore. A kind of anger that never was directed towards her. His mouth was bleeding, a bruise blooming on his cheek, and the grip he had on the knife showed the cuts on his whitening knuckles. Strands of messy black hair fell over his forehead and a bit into his eyes, yet the murderous intent rolled off of him in waves. He wasn’t even out of breath.

He was glaring at the demon holding her, voice low and tight as he demanded, “Let her go, Darron.”

“I don’t think I will.” Belle inhaled sharply, eyebrows furrowed and eyes closing briefly as Darron tightened his grip on her jaw, fingers digging into the muscles painfully. She opened her eyes to see Ashton’s gaze flicker to her briefly. “See, Enya may be dead but everyone knows how attached she was to this meatsuit.” There was a vindictive, taunting smirk in his voice as he added, “Especially when her last wish to you was to protect this one. Revenge can’t be taken on a dead bitch, so the human will have to do.”

Darron was only serving to boil Ashton’s wrath, and Belle wondered if her captor had any idea how explosive the pot he was stirring was. The last thing anyone should do was insult Enya in front of Ashton; Belle only survived if she said a wrong word against the dead demon because Enya wanted her to and Ashton was fulfilling her wish. Anyone else was only signing their death warrant.

She could taste the salt of her tears on her lips, watching as Ashton’s lips twitched into a snarl. Belle knew he couldn’t make any sudden movements. Ashton was fast, but Darron could just move his hand a certain way and she’d be dead. “She has nothing to do with this.” She could tell he was trying to keep his tone calm, but his words were spoken with an underlying tremor, his anger just barely contained. “Enya is dead. What more do you fucking want?”

“My entire platoon is dead!” Darron roared, the sudden burst of wrath emitting a loud, frightened gasp from Belle. She hated that she was so afraid, hated that she could feel herself shaking. She’d have fallen to her knees if it weren’t for Darron’s unforgiving grip on her. “They’re dead because you and your fucking girlfriend sold us out to the King and I have to spend the rest of my life hiding from him!”

“Don’t forget whatever rats you’ve got following you instead of the King.” The muscles in Ashton’s jaw worked, shaking his head as his glare remained the same. “You were planning on overthrowing him, Darron. We were just doing our jobs.”

“Yeah, and you got a great reward for that, didn’t you, Ash?” Darron laughed bitterly over the sound of Belle’s sniffle. She was surprised she could still hear them over the erratic beating of her heart. She wanted this to be over. “Early retirement from serving the King so you could spend the rest of your life with your girl. Only now she’s dead and you’re stuck playing babysitter to her meatsuit.” He laughed again, this time sounding much too sadistic, the sound raising uncomfortable goosebumps to Belle’s skin. “You’re seriously telling me you don’t want her dead, too? How can you stand to look at her, knowing it ain’t Enya looking back at you? Just a pathetic little human.”

Belle’s breath hitched harshly in her throat, not just at Darron’s words but at the intolerable sensation of him trailing the tip of his nose along the shell of her ear, inhaling sharply before saying to Ashton, “I’d be doing you a favor, buddy. No more slumming it with—”

He never got to finish, his words being cut off by Belle’s startled gasp when his grip suddenly loosened from her before he dropped to the ground. She stumbled away, her wide, alarmed, and teary eyes flashing down to see the knife embedded in Darron’s forehead, almost to the hilt, the blood trickling out of the point of entry as he lay lifelessly on the ground, eyes wide open and as dead as him. He was dead, and Belle’s breathing was startlingly heavy as she tried to regain whatever air she’d lost while being held by him, the panic weighing it down and her heart threatening to jump out of her throat.

She started when Ashton appeared in front of her, his hands on her shoulders before finding her jaw, his careful touch not at all what she expected. She also didn’t expect to see the concern swimming behind the lingering anger as his hazel eyes ran over her, trying to catalogue any injuries he may have missed as he demanded, “Are you okay?”

“I’m—” Belle choked on her words, unsure of what to say as she tried to get her heart to relax, her focus somehow going to Ashton’s warm touch. One she was familiar with but not really. She thought of his question; physically, she knew she was okay. But actually being okay seemed like a completely different thing. So she met his gaze, throat dry as her green eyes met his hazel and she finally decided on, “I’m alive.”

“You are,” Ashton confirmed, sounding as though he was trying to convince himself of it, too. He pressed his lips together, which was a bit smudged with blood, and she wondered if he was aware of the way his thumbs briefly rubbed at her skin before he added firmly, “And you’re gonna stay alive.”

He bent down, then, pulling the knife out of Darron’s forehead without a grunt and pocketing it before his hand pressed to Belle’s lower back. Next thing she knew, they were in the middle of her apartment. In that moment, Belle was more than relieved that the demon on her side was the higher level one. Those in the alleyway were probably lower in power, otherwise they would’ve blipped right out of there with Belle in hand.

It was in the comfort of her own home did Belle let out a heavy sigh of relief, hands reaching up to wipe away whatever remaining tears there were, cheeks wet as she buried her fingers in her hair and stared, absently wide eyed, at the floor. She’d gone through too many near death experiences in her lifetime, while possessed or not. She exhaled sharply once more in the silence of her apartment, shaking her head and squeezing her eyes shut briefly as she whispered, “God.”

“Sorry—I’m all you’ve got.”

She opened her eyes in time to see Ashton in her kitchen, turning the faucet on to wash the blood off the knife. Belle licked her lips, watching as he dried it with a paper towel before turning to look at Belle. Her heart had calmed down, arms crossed over her chest as she watched him use the same paper towel to wipe at the blood near his mouth before tossing it in the trash.

Ashton ran his fingers through his black hair, pushing it back, his expression once again returning to the usual flatness, void of any emotion. Except, if she really looked, she’d see a certain urgency in his eyes as he added, “Pack a bag. Or two. At least two weeks’ worth of things. We’re leaving.”

“Wh—leaving?” Belle asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as Ashton pushed himself off the counter, walking a bit too casually out of the kitchen and to her bedroom. She followed after him. “Where are we going?”

“A safe house,” he responded, crouching down in front of her bed and reaching under it, easily yanking out the suitcase she kept there. He turned to look at her then, and Belle tried not to notice the way the messy strands of his dark hair settled on his head, unkempt yet still working for him. “Despite what Darron said, I know that some members of his platoon are still kicking. If they know you’re in this town, it’ll only be a matter of time before they find you. I need to keep you hidden until they’ve been taken care of.”

Belle knew he had a point, knew that what he was saying made sense. Yet still, she said, “I can’t just leave for two weeks. I’ve got jobs that I can’t get fired from because I need to keep this roof over my head.”

Ashton shot her a look that reminded Belle of how he was increasingly bored of her pathetic human problems. “I’ll take care of it,” he deadpanned, looking more bored than irritated, which was kind of a first. Truthfully, Belle thought he’d be a bit more frantic after fighting off three demons, a bit more ragey. He was being. . . Surprisingly calm, and while Belle seriously preferred this over the alternative, she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t the slightest bit unnerving. Ashton took a step towards her, the distance between them small as his dropped his chin to hold her gaze. There was a lack of a lot of things in his eyes: his usual annoyance, exasperation, contempt nowhere to be seen. She was almost nervous to label what she did see as patience. . . Kindness? No. Maybe that was too far. “Pack. We leave as soon as you’re done.”

*****

Snow wasn’t his favorite thing—not when the last time he saw it, it was coated in his love’s blood. It was hard for his mind not to flash to that day, to that moment where everything felt as though it were ending. And yet there he stood, staring out the large window of the cabin hidden away amidst the mountains in Colorado, teeth pressed together as he watched the gentle fall of flurries. A wry smirk curled at the corner of his lips; it was amusing how something arguably beautiful could hold such ugly memories.

His hands tightened into fists in the pockets of his jacket, taking in a slow breath as he reminded himself it was only temporary.

“Are you. . . Sure we’re safe here?”

Ashton turned around, watching as Belle descended the wooden stairs slowly. She was dressed comfortably, hair pulled back messily, and Ashton didn’t know what to think of the jump he felt in his chest as he took in how small she looked in the clearly oversized sweatshirt she wore. “We are,” he confirmed, walking over to the credenza filled with his supply and popping the cork off the glass decanter to fill his glass. As he poured, his gaze briefly lifted to run over the wooden beams and panels and interior of the luxurious cabin. “Had a witch charm and cloak this place to the nines.” Looking at Belle, whose own gaze took in the cabin, he finished, “We’re fine.”

She wandered over to the couch against the wall, sitting on folded legs and peering out the window as she asked, “Why didn’t you just have your, uh, witch do that to my place?”

Ashton sipped the drink, leaning against the support beams as his gaze remained fixed on her. Grip tight on the glass, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about her. Ashton knew that what happened in the alleyway was bound to go down eventually—and as relieved as he was that Belle was still alive, he kicked himself for not being aware of the danger sooner. Because for all his harsh talk and withering glares, and the thoughts that crept up derived from a still recovering grief, he didn’t want Belle dead. Despite what Darron thought, despite what Ashton himself may have led Belle to believe—he wanted her alive.

“’Cause warding this place was the one favor I had on her and you leave your apartment too much,” Ashton told her with a roll of his eyes. “Casting a protection spell on it would’ve been useless.”

Belle was picking invisible lint off the top of the couch, gaze still out on the window as the late afternoon, golden sunlight seeped into the living room. There was a lock of her dark hair that fell from her temple, gently brushing against her cheek. In a quiet mumble, she said, “At least then you wouldn’t be trying to protect me.”

It was a damn near inaudible comment that she had made, but Ashton heard it nonetheless. He felt something in his chest tighten, eyebrows lowering into an affronted frown—not angry or annoyed, just insulted. “What?” he demanded, prompting Belle’s head to snap up and slightly widened eyes to look at him, as if she didn’t think he’d heard her. But he had. Ashton pushed himself off the beam, tilting his chin to the left as he questioned, “You think some spell can protect you better than I can? That I don’t—”

“What? No, no,” Belle instantly cut in with a shake of her head, alarmed at the offense in his tone as she looked up at his approaching figure. “That’s not what I meant. I just—” Belle stopped, pressing her lips together and exhaling slowly through her nose as a way of composing herself. Ashton stopped right in front of her on the couch, his height looming over her as he frowned. Why had her words insulted him—hurt him—so easily? Belle tilted her head so his hazel eyes could meet her earnest, almost sad, green. “You got hurt trying to protect me. And I don’t—” She bit down on her lower lip briefly, Ashton fighting the urge to zero in on the action. “I’m sorry for it.”

The frown on his eyebrows smoothed at the softness of her tone, and Ashton wasn’t sure what the hell was going on but he could feel himself reel back. What the fuck happened? Had seeing Belle in Darron’s arms, just one move away from death, flipped some internal switch Ashton wasn’t aware he had? Brought forth the severity and significance of the promise he’d made Enya?

Enya.

Watching Belle come so close to being killed reminded him of when he lost Enya. That’s what it was. He couldn’t have Belle dying in front of him. Not like Enya. The image was not one Ashton wanted to revisit for as long as he was alive.

Her apologizing for something that in no way was her fault had his stomach twisting, biting the inside of his cheek as he took a step back. Looking towards the window, he said, “If you want to go outside, the protection spell goes for a ten mile radius. No further, alright?” He tilted his head back to down the rest of his drink, enjoying the burn of the whiskey before he sucked in his teeth. “I’m going to get some supplies. I’ll be back in thirty.”

Belle scrambled to unfold her legs from under her, feet touching the carpeted floor as her green eyes widened in sudden alarm. “You’re leaving?”

Ashton stopped, eyebrows raising ever so slightly at the unsettled tone in her voice and troubled look that tensed her features. There was a pleading in her green eyes Ashton hadn’t expected; normally, Belle was more than okay with Ashton not being around, his presence one she could do without. But right now, it seemed as though that was the last thing she wanted, looking just about ready to jump off the couch and join him wherever he was going. Like the last thing she wanted was to be alone.

He blinked, fighting to keep his expression neutral as he answered simply, “Supply run.” There weren’t that many things in the cabin, and Ashton knew she’d be needing food and shit to live here temporarily. “There’s no food here.”

Belle’s gaze flickered to the kitchen to the right, as if what she’d need would magically pop into the appropriate places. He noted the way she took a deep breath, wringing her fingers in her lap, her anxiety rolling off of her in waves. If he was someone else, Ashton would admit that he felt almost upset at her state. It kind of made him want to stay. With her. Which was different for both of them.

Belle’s throat worked. “Okay.” She looked up at Ashton, hopeful as she asked, “Just half an hour, right?”

He ended up only being twenty minutes; Ashton wasn’t even aware that he had been moving quickly, swift steps between aisles as he grabbed what he knew Belle liked. Being with her for so long, watching her, he picked up on her favorite kind of tea and she preferred barbecue Lays over Pringles, what pasta shape she liked, all these little details about her that Ashton didn’t know he even knew. It made getting everything that much easier. He didn’t even stop to think about how he was out in some damned supermarket shopping for her. All he wanted to do was get back to her.

By the time he pulled into the driveway, killing the engine of the black pick up he kept around, the sun had set and he saw smoke rising from the chimney and the light above the door was on, as well as the living room one he could notice through the curtains. He shut the door behind him as he entered the foyer of the mostly darkened cabin, hearing the distant crackle of the fireplace in the otherwise silent house.

Ashton moved swiftly, entering the kitchen to put down the bags, allowing his gaze to wander over to look into the living room. He furrowed his eyebrows as he pulled out the chips, absently doing his mundane actions as his gaze landed on Belle. She was on the couch, fast asleep with a knitted blanket over her, and Ashton felt a surprising weight lift off his shoulders. She was safe.

That relief, though, only lasted long enough for Ashton to put away half of the groceries when he heard an all too familiar sound drift in from the living room. Ashton frowned, taking the few steps towards open entryway that connected the kitchen and living room, gaze zeroing in on Belle, who no longer was asleep as peacefully as she had been. He picked up on the sound of her whimpers, soft cries as she shifted uncomfortably where she lay, prompting him to walk further into the living room slowly.

Lips turned downwards, Ashton’s frown deepened when he realized Belle wasn’t just shifting in her sleep—she was damn near thrashing. The shadows of the fire danced over her distressed features, the sounds of her cries mixing in with desperate pleas of “No, no,” repeated over and over again.

She was having a nightmare, and Ashton was just standing over her, staring.

“Fuck,” he cursed, approaching the couch and, as if his body had a mind of its own, Ashton dropped to his knees and glanced at his hands, rings glinting against the fire, momentarily unsure what to do with them. When a particularly pained cry escaped Belle, Ashton snapped into gear as one hand pressed to the top of her head and the other gripped her cheek. “Belle, hey, hey.” He was trying to contain his tone, fighting to keep the concern that surprised him at bay, hands sliding to grip her shoulders as he squeezed, creeping towards desperation the longer she stayed stuck in the nightmare. “Wake up, hey. Belle!”

She did, with a heavy gasp and eyes wide open, pushing herself up and away and into the corner of the couch. She pushed away, still startled from the nightmare, and Ashton followed her with his gaze, hands loosely sliding down to her waist as she sat up slightly. Belle’s breathing was labored, a harsh sound in the quiet of the cabin save for the crackle of the fire, and he saw the tears that glassed her eyes in the ember of the flames. Ashton took in her disheveled state, unable to stop the way his left hand slid up to rest on her neck, easily feeling her pulse race under his touch.

He saw the terror in her eyes, breathing sharp, and Ashton felt something shrivel up in his chest. A feeling he wasn’t unfamiliar with, but hadn’t felt in a while. His throat worked, eyebrows drawn together in concern he couldn’t hide. “You’re okay, Belle,” he finally spoke, voice surprisingly soft. Belle blinked a few times, as if to keep her tears from falling. He wanted to tell her it was okay if she cried. If she cared that his hand was right on her neck, another on her waist, she didn’t show it. “It was just a bad dream.”

The tendons in her neck tensed and her hand reached up to grasp the wrist of his left. Not to push away, but to hold on to. Her distressed eyebrows and teary eyes remained. “But it wasn’t,” Belle spoke, her voice a hoarse whisper. Her lower lip quivered. “It—It happened and I almost—”

“But you didn’t.” Ashton’s voice was hard—hoping he knew it wasn’t directed towards her, but towards the situation they had escaped from. He knew Belle wasn’t used to it; her only experience with it was one where she was trapped in her own body, watching Enya deal with other demons in her own head. She never had her own first hand experience and this one. . . He didn’t quite blame her for the nightmares that plagued her.

He just hoped she now understood why his presence in her life was necessary.

“Belle,” Ashton spoke up, eyebrows drawing together as she looked at him. A tear escaped her eye and Ashton felt the surprising urge to wipe it away. “You’re safe here, alright?” And then he did it—he wiped the tear away, hand on her neck sliding up to cup her face, eyes closing as his thumb caught the tear. Did he imagine the way she leaned into his touch? “They won’t find you here.” I won’t let them.

She shook her head, rolling her lips into her mouth. Her face was flushed, cheeks and nose and lips pink from fear and distress. “How long do I have to stay here?” Belle asked, gazing out the window before looking back at Ashton. “This isn’t—I can’t be here forever.”

Ashton knew that, knew she was right. She couldn’t stay confined in this cabin forever. Ask him before and he wouldn’t have cared, would’ve told her right off the bat she didn’t have a choice in the matter. And while it was still kind of true, Ashton could feel the edge slipping away. All it took was Belle being in legitimate danger, to come so close to not being able to hold up his end of Enya’s promise, for Ashton to feel.

What exactly he was feeling, and for who, he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge.

His gaze drifted to the way her hand was holding onto his wrist, teeth pressing together as he felt her touch burn his skin deliciously. “I know,” he finally said, meeting her green eyes once more, his gaze as firm as his voice. “And you won’t be. It’s just for now, just until I can get this target off your back, alright?”

“But—” Belle’s voice caught in her throat, neck tensing as she tried to rid of the lump. She sat up, neither of them paying attention to the way she still held his wrist, even if her touch was sinking into Ashton’s bones. Even if it was something he found himself not wanting to be rid of. “Darron’s dead, right? Wasn’t he the one after me?”

“Yeah,” Ashton responded, jaw tightening briefly. His eyes threatened to flash black at the mention of the rogue demon, only a fraction relaxed knowing he was dead. “But he’s got followers, those who’ve turned against the King. They’re dead if the King finds them—might as well go out carrying out Darron’s last order.”

Belle closed her eyes, a furrow in her eyebrows as she ducked her head, like she was resigning to the fact that she couldn’t live her life until the last of Darron’s men were gone. And for the first time, Ashton felt a pang of guilt resonate in his chest at the way her shoulders slumped. She looked defeated, more so than she had since the second she found out Ashton would be a permanent fixture in her life, and he didn’t fucking understand the heaviness he felt at the sight of her. He didn’t want to.

But Ashton felt himself giving in, felt something inside him break. And he was in no hurry to fix it.

*****

Belle wasn’t sure if it was the smell of French toast or the sound of her phone ringing that pulled her out of her sleep. She lay in the bed, staring dazedly up at the vault style wooden roof of the cabin, momentarily forgetting where exactly she was until it hit her. They’d already been there for a handful of days and Belle still needed to get used to waking up somewhere that wasn’t her pathetic loft. A sigh escaped her, frowning over at her phone ringing as she haphazardly reached over for it. Belle didn’t even think twice as she answered the call without checking who it was, putting it up to her ear as she grumbled out a tired, “Hello?”

“Belle, hey.” She blinked the sleep away, recognizing Ollie’s voice on the other end. Rubbing at her eye, she sat up as she mumbled his name in response. “I was just calling to check if you were okay? You haven’t shown up for work lately and George said you were taking some personal days?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Belle said, clearing her throat as she eyed the room around her. Fine was a relative term in this case. At least she was alive. “I’ve just got some stuff to deal with out of town so, yeah, I’m not gonna be in for a bit.”

“Yeah, George said something about you having to take care of a late aunt’s cabin or something?”

Belle’s eyebrows knitted together briefly, wondering if that’s the excuse Ashton had somehow implanted in George, her boss’s, head. It seemed a bit too close to the truth, but Belle didn’t second guess it. Not in the early morning of the day, at least. “Yeah, that’s right,” she confirmed. “Listen, I’ve got some errands to run. Thanks for checking in, Ollie.”

“Sure thing, Belle. Sorry about your loss,” he returned sincerely, and she smiled, despite him being unable to see her, and bid goodbye before hanging up.

She got off the bed, toes singing into the faux fur rug on the floor as she reveled in the softness despite the chill she felt in the cabin. Her pajamas only ever consisted of shorts and short sleeved shirts, not entirely ideal for a cabin in Colorado, but she made do with it. After using the bathroom and washing her face, Belle made her way down the stairs, the scent of French toast tickling her nose more and more the closer she got to the kitchen.

She stopped in the doorway, throat tight as she caught sight of Ashton in a white tee and jeans, blinking in disbelief as she watched him make breakfast. Belle wondered if she was imagining things, unsure of what to make of the scene of Ashton literally cooking food. Demons didn’t really eat; she knew that by being possessed by one and being around Ashton. They drank because they liked to and munched on snacks because they were bored, but eating actual meals? That just. . . Wasn’t a thing.

So Ashton cooking was just another thing she couldn’t quite believe.

Belle remained silent where she stood, unsure if she should call attention to herself. But to think he wouldn’t notice her was dumb, because without even turning around, Ashton said, “You’re up.” He glanced over his shoulder, hazel eyes meeting her green. “I made breakfast.”

“I know. . .” Belle slowly answered, unsure as she forced herself to move further into the kitchen. What was happening? Why was he making her food? It smelled fucking delicious. She looked at the plate, the breakfast hot on it, as she gradually made her way over. “Why—”

“Just eat, alright?” Ashton cut her off, his voice absent of the usual edge as he turned around to hand her the plate. Belle looked up at him, almost bewildered, taking the plate from him as Ashton briefly pressed his lips together. “Tell me how it is. Demons normally can’t cook for shit.”

Well, that much she figured. Still, she found a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips at his words, at the sentiment behind it all. She sat down at the small round table in the kitchen, not one to put syrup or butter on her French toast as she grabbed a fork to cut off a piece. Aware of Ashton’s gaze on her, leaning against the counter, Belle took a bite, feeling the flavor explode on her tongue, sweet and warm and delicious.

She hummed as she swallowed the bite, nodding as her gaze met Ashton’s expectant one. The amusement of him waiting on her approval wasn’t lost on her, and it still had Belle smiling as she gestured to the plate with her fork and said, “This is delicious.”

“Really?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, his moon tattoos hidden from her view. Under the hard mask he wore, Belle could see his genuine curiosity, some kind of need for subtle reassurance. And Belle wasn’t sure if she only saw it because she had somehow gotten the ability to read him overnight or because he wasn’t hiding from her. Showing her who he was like he did with Enya. “You’re not bullshitting me, are you?”

Belle paused bringing a fork to her mouth for another bite, raising an eyebrow at him as she felt a laugh suddenly bubble up her throat. Except this time, laughing at him didn’t feel as though she would be responded to with a sharp glare. “Lie to a demon? Won’t be making that mistake again.”

The words slipped past her tongue easily, effortlessly cracking jokes with him in a way that was unfamiliar and yet. . . Wasn’t. Belle knew she had Enya to thank for that, for the months she’d been possessed and had watched their dynamic from inside her own head. An experience that had been horrific for her at the time, and now was almost. . . Nostalgic. It was a weird feeling, looking back at that time in the same wavelength of fondness.

Ashton scoffed, pushing himself off the counter, sauntering over to her. He picked up an extra fork, breaking off a piece of her French toast to pick at. “Lie to demons all you want,” he told her, bringing the fork up to his mouth, raising an eyebrow at her. “Never lie to me.”

Despite the truth behind his words, Belle still found herself smiling around the fork, looking down at the plate and wondering when it had become easy to smile around Ashton. Him making her breakfast was throwing her off, putting her at ease.

But then again, was that such a bad thing?

Hours later, with the day dragging on and nothing on TV holding Belle’s attention for too long, she found herself in warmer clothes as she ventured outback. She remembered Ashton telling her of the ten mile radius the protection spell extended to, and kept close by to the cabin just to be safe

She didn’t have snow boots, necessarily, but the boots she did have were enough to keep her feet warm as she stood in the snow, up to just a little bit above her ankles. Her breath fogged up in front of her and Belle reveled in the cold that only tickled her face, her body shielded by the sweatshirt and jacket and gloves she wore. The fresh air, while icy in her lungs, felt refreshing and maybe she appeared like a nutcase, standing in the snow with her head tilted back and feeling the coldness of the Colorado weather, but she didn’t care.

For the moment, Belle ignored the pressing reality she lived in. The demons, the danger—she pushed it to the back of her mind for the time being, letting her shoulders drop and closed eyes relax. She was tired of being so scared, of feeling the need to look over her shoulder despite having a protector. She was tired of being angry.

Before, Belle could’ve easily directed her anger towards Enya, even Ashton. She wanted to be pissed at them for getting her in this situation, in her most darkest times wishing that she’d died along with Enya so she wasn’t left to deal with the aftermath of it all. How was she meant to live a life when she had a target on her back, when a demon was constantly shadowing her to make sure she was safe despite feeling a terrifying chill whenever she was in his presence?

But Ashton, as of late, had changed. He didn’t look at her like the sight of her perturbed him, didn’t talk to her like she was less than. He saved her life, fulfilling a promise Belle had foolishly thought he wouldn’t have to act upon. But he did, without hesitation, and Belle had quickly understood just how important it was for him to keep Enya’s promise, and how Enya had known this would happen and had wanted to keep Belle safe. She only trusted Ashton with the job, and he was determined to carry it out.

Maybe it was too easy, but Belle’s anger towards them had disappeared. Near death by vengeful demons put things in perspective, she figured.

“What are you doing?”

The sound of Ashton’s voice cutting through the chilled silence had Belle jumping slightly, a gasp caught in her throat as she turned around. He was about ten feet away, standing on the back porch of the cabin as he furrowed his eyebrows at her. He only had a light jacket on top, but demons didn’t really get cold.

Belle couldn’t help but notice his presence wasn’t an intimidating one, though he stood with shoulders squared and hands shoved in his jacket’s pockets. Either he wasn’t trying to be imposing or Belle didn’t feel wary of his presence. She had an inkling it was a little bit of both.

“Enjoying the fresh air,” she told him, watching as the knit of his eyebrows deepened at her words, as if he didn’t quite understand the act. Before she could help herself, Belle ticked her head, a gesture of asking him to join her before she verbalized it by a prodding, “Come on.”

If Ashton was surprised by her invite, he didn’t say anything. He eyed the snow for a moment, looking at it distrustfully, before pursing his lips and walking down the two steps of the porch, making his way through the snow and over to her. Ashton stood to her right, eyeing her skeptically, a silent question of now what?

Belle fought the grin. “Close your eyes,” she told him gently. “And just. . . Feel it around you.”

As a way of demonstrating, Belle tilted her head back a bit like before, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, adoring the cold air filling her lungs. She stayed like that for a moment, feeling the chill of the world and the quiet of the snow, secluded in their little mountainous area from prying eyes. She stayed like that until she no longer felt Ashton’s gaze on her, her lips quirking when she heard him mimic her actions by taking a deep breath as well. He was actually listening to her.

Belle peeked one eye open, glancing over at him, opening both eyes when she saw him standing there, his own head tilted back a bit, black hair a stark contrast against the white backdrop of snow and mountains. The tip of his nose was turning pink, because while he may not feel cold himself, his body still did. He looked. . . Peaceful.

Belle wasn’t quite sure what came over her. Maybe it was because, for the first time, she felt truly at ease. Her worries had left her for the time being, no thoughts of demons or life threatening moments in her head, and it ultimately led her to quietly bend down and used a gloved hand to silently scoop up a handful of snow.

She didn’t stop to consider how this could possibly be a terrible idea, that she would only end up pissing him off. Belle just acted without much thought, raising her hand, feeling a sudden rush of excited panic when Ashton opened his hazel eyes, probably sensing her playful shift in demeanor, and began to ask once again, “What are yo—”

Except he didn’t get a chance to finish this time. Belle squeaked at her plan not being entirely a surprise, yet still her hand launched forward and Ashton, for the first time being caught off guard when it came to Belle, was greeted with a faceful of chilling snow.

Belle froze where she stood, eyes wide and an incredulous scoff escaping her as she watched him react. Ashton blinked, some of the snow stuck to his face as the rest fell back to the ground, staring ahead at nothing as he quickly registered what the hell had just happened. She couldn’t quite get a read on him, which wasn’t surprising, unsure if she should laugh or run. Oh, what had she been thinking? She was rambling before she could stop herself. “Oh, my God—I’m sorry, I just—I couldn’t help myself. You looked so unguarded and it was really childish and—”

Ashton raised a hand, ring clad fingers wiping away the snow on his face, hazel eyes flashing to meet her green. The air rushed out of Belle’s lungs when she noticed the absence of anger or irritation. What she saw instead was the same kind of playfulness she had acted upon, and that had her completely transfixed. “I’m going to give you a five second head start.”

She blinked at him, not entirely processing his words, until he quirked a challenging eyebrow and started, “One,” which only had Belle squeaking in surprise before she turned and tried to get away as fast as she could.

Thankfully the snow wasn’t too much of an obstacle to get through, but there wasn’t anything to hide behind, save for a boulder or two, and the sound of Ashton’s voice counting down, low and dangerous in a way that didn’t terrify her, behind her sent a thrilling chill down her spine.

Belle dove behind a boulder just as a snowball came her way, hearing it slap against the rock as she fell into the snow with a laugh. It was almost big enough to hide her frame, and she quickly worked on another snowball before looking around the rock. Her breathing was only slightly labored by making a run for it, trying to catch sight of Ashton—but he was gone. Her green eyes caught sight of the prints on the snow, feeling her heart thud when she saw no sign of tracks other than the ones she’d left behind in her escape behind the rock. Unless—

A scream left her as she was suddenly taken on from behind, Ashton’s arms around her as the two of them fell into the snow, and the sound of his laugh—one she hadn’t heard in a long time, one she’d only heard when Enya had taken her over—had Belle’s heart racing as they tumbled into the snow. Somehow, Belle ended up on top, and she tried not to get too distracted as she scooped up some more snow and shoved it against Ashton’s head, a laugh escaping her as he vigorously began shaking the black locks that were now decorated in white.

Of course, Ashton wasn’t going to let Belle get the best of him, certainly not twice. He effortlessly flipped them around, Belle gasping as the snow hit the back of her body, while the front of her was covered in the warmth of Ashton’s body. Her breathing was heavy from the excitement and the tackling, feeling Ashton’s own against her skin as she peered up at his eyes. Hazel and pretty and ones she didn’t want to admire until now.

Black strands of his hair fell across his forehead as he looked down at her. “Got you,” Ashton said. Had he meant for his voice to be such a delicious, raspy whisper?

He was so close, and for the first time, Belle wanted him closer. “I got you first. Twice.”

A silence fell upon them like a blanket, blinding them from the world except from one another. The quiet of the mountains was only disturbed by their breathing, by the thundering of Belle’s heart as she raised a gloved hand. She didn’t let her thoughts control her, didn’t think of the consequences or the doubt or anything else as her leather covered fingers grazed along Ashton’s scruffy jaw. His eyes never left hers, trapping her in place, in a trance she didn’t want to be broken out of. He didn’t make a move to pull away as Belle’s palm cupped his jaw and fingers held his cheek.

Her heart was racing a mile a minute, deaf to the warnings her head was giving her, his warmth and scent and everything in between deliciously inviting in a way she knew them to be but never tried to acknowledge. Belle could feel him leaning close as well, gradually closing the gap between them, and her lips tingled with the anticipation to meet his.

Ashton’s nose brushed against hers, gaze lowering to her lips so he wasn’t looking into her eyes. She saw his eyebrows furrow, a conflict battling across his features as his gruff voice muttered, “We shouldn’t.”

Belle felt a twist in her chest, the sting of rejection sharp as her throat worked. It was insane of her to want him to kiss her—but Belle knew it may be selfish, too. It was selfish because she wore the face of another Ashton had loved, not willingly. Hell, it belonged to her first. Belle’s throat worked, knowing she couldn’t possibly imagine the pain Ashton had been suffering through with the loss of Enya. He loved her, long before she came to possess Belle, and he’d lost her so painfully. Belle never wanted to feel that kind of ache, and she found herself hating that Ashton had to suffer through it.

At one point, she thought herself crazy to feel badly for him. Now, she embraced the ache in her heart over his loss.

Before she could slide her hand away from him, before she could apologize and tell him it was fine, before she could acknowledge her own embarrassment, Ashton pressed his forehead against hers. She could see the way he battled something inside of himself, felt it in the way his jaw worked under her touch, heard it when his guttural voice muttered, “I want to, you’ve no idea how fuckin’ bad. But we shouldn’t.”

Belle bit the inside of her cheek, heart jumping into her throat at his confession, no longer aware of the cold of the snow and all too focused on the warmth of him. She found herself stroking his cheek, throat working as she whispered, “Who do you see?” Her voice was gentle, encouraging. “Me or her?”

Because that’s what it ultimately came down to, wasn’t it? If he was seeing his late love or the person who truly owned the face. If his heartbreak was so overwhelming, so consuming he couldn’t bring it in himself to move forward—not that Belle would blame him if he couldn’t.

Ashton’s eyes opened, an intensity in his hazel eyes that rendered Belle breathless when he looked down at her. She watched the way his eyes searched hers and she waited patiently, fighting the urge to chew anxiously on her lower lip. Ashton’s own hand reached up, moving a piece of her dark hair from her face, and how the hell was his touch warm when everything around them wasn’t?

“Used to be her.” Ashton’s voice was quiet, confessionary, licking his lips quickly before the corners quirked up subtly into a small smile that had Belle’s heart racing. He looked at her, sincere in a way she’d never seen him before. “Now it’s only you.”

Belle’s lips parted, sucking in a breath at his admittance, and that was it. All it took was for Ashton to say those words, to acknowledge who she was, her importance to him hidden right behind them, to have the gap between them come to a close.

Ashton’s lips met hers, and Belle reached her other hand up to his cheek, holding him close as he kissed her in a heated, needy fervor. She felt herself inhale sharply as Ashton’s lips worked against hers, one hand holding her side as the intensity and heat of his kiss sent electricity coursing down her spine and warming her up. Belle opened up to him, parting her lips as Ashton took full advantage and let his tongue slide against hers.

It felt so familiar, kissing him, but just the action. She hadn’t truly felt it, not when it was Enya—until now. As Ashton kissed her, Belle was all too aware of his scruff scratching against her skin, his lips slanting over hers almost too perfectly and the way his tongue caressed her own. He was warm, so inviting, so delicious. Never did Belle think she’d be kissing Ashton. Never did she think she would be enjoying it so much, never wanting it to end, needing for it to keep going forever.

She was intoxicated by him, fixated on him, desperately needing more, craving for the space between them created by their offending clothes to be gone. Belle held him close, kissed him feverishly, and when he squeezed her side she was gasping into his mouth, his name falling past her lips without thought. “Ashton.” Her lips dragged against his, feeling him lick at her lower lip. Her own grip on him was tight. “Need you.”

Ashton groaned into her mouth and if Belle had been completely out of it, she wouldn’t have noticed the change of environment, because upon hearing her request, Ashton had transported the two of them out of the cold and into the warmth comfort of the cabin. Belle let out a gentle gasp as the chill of the snow on her back changed into the warm comfort of a bed, eyes opening to realize they were in the same room she’d woken up in that morning.

Her gaze flickered back to Ashton, noting the wicked smirk on his lips, and she felt a breathless laugh escape her before she leaned up and connected their lips once more. The two of them made quick work of their clothing, fueled by the desire of needing each other close as Belle pulled off his jacket and he unzipped hers. Too many clothes were separating them, their kisses breaking every time something needed to be completely pulled off, lips meeting during the brief moment of undoing buttons and zippers and finding a condom, his pants finally dropping to the floor as the vague sound of his blade clattering went over their dazed heads. Greedy, needy, overwhelming in the best way.

Belle’s head was against the pillows, eyes closing and mouth dropping open as Ashton made his way down her neck, her fingers interlaced in his black hair as he made his way down, down, down. Down her neck and the valley of her breasts, torso, navel, until he got to where she desperately needed him. He was unforgiving. Immediately, Ashton licked a strip up her center before his lips teased her bud, reveling in the feel of Belle’s fingers tightening their grip on his hair.

Ashton’s hands, cool rings stark against her heated skin, held her thighs open as his tongue dipped into her, and Belle tilted her head back, eyes screwed shut at the sensation of him working her open so expertly. Her heart was pounding and mind was racing, because the idea of this was so familiar. Fuck, she knew Enya and Ashton had sex, knew that at the time, this was Enya’s body and she loved having Ashton mark it up however he wanted.

It was all familiar, until now, where it had become an experience. And Belle was already fucking seeing stars. The room was filled with the sounds of her gasps, her moans, and the crude sounds of Ashton sucking, licking into her with the occasional groan whenever she tugged at his hair, the vibrations only causing Belle to clench at her torso as she felt it ricochet through her to the tips of her toes and fingers. Ashton pressed into her, fully using his lips and teeth and tongue to have his way with her core, his movements purposeful and dizzying.

He effortlessly brought her to her orgasm, his name falling from her lips like a mantra as the coil in her stomach finally released. And he took everything he gave her, mouth still working as she rode out her high, leaving her a breathless, flushed mess as he finally pulled away with a lick of his smirking lips, coming to hover over her. Belle looked at him, saw the satisfied, prideful glint in his hazel eyes and something else hidden under them. Fondness? Adoration? It made Belle’s heart hurt in the best way.

And then he smiled; a stupid, boyish, dimpled grin that once again robbed Belle of her breath. A smile that she couldn’t help but think was so gorgeous, one that could disarm and charm anyone receiving it. Ashton leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, reveling in the moan that escaped her when he teasingly cupped her sex and bit her lower lip. “Think you can take another, doll?”

Doll. He never called her that before. She’d never heard him say it.

She answered by kissing him once more, one arm looping around his neck to keep him close, other hand gripping the snake tattoo on his bicep as her heart raced with anticipation, feeling him line himself up with her. Belle moaned against him as he slipped in, his own groan ripping through his throat as he bottomed out, her nails digging into his skin. She didn’t think he’d give her a moment to adjust to his size, to the feeling of him filling her up completely, but he did, surprising her further by murmuring against her lips, “You okay?”

The size of him was overwhelming enough, but Belle needed him to move, desperately. “So good,” she confirmed breathlessly, giving him the go ahead to pull out before sinking himself into her once more.

He set a rigorous pace with every snap of his hips, hitting that spot in her that had Belle seeing stars every time. They were so close, yet she needed him impossibly closer, hooking her leg around his hip, the sounds of their groans echoing in the wooden cabin at the slightly new angle. Her body was flushed, the heat of Ashton’s body seeping into her bones so deeply, so fucking wonderfully as his lips and teeth marked up her skin, that she was left wondering why the fuck they hadn’t done this sooner.

The headboard smacking against the wall wasn’t something either of them acknowledged, chalked it up as the soundtrack of their intimacy as Ashton drew out another orgasm from her. Belle’s fingers were in his hair, nails grazing at his scalp, breath permanently caught in her throat as she desperately babbled, “Ashton, I’m close—”

“I know you are, baby.” He pulled his lips away from her neck, sitting up on his knees as he kept up the pace that had her fisting the sheets beneath her. Belle felt his hand travel up her side, fingers playing with her nipple before his right large hand rested on her clavicle. She felt his hesitation in his hand, even if his pace never slowed, and through hooded eyes Belle watched Ashton eye where his hand rested. She didn’t know how, but she knew exactly what he was thinking by the set of his jaw, and without much thought, she gripped his right wrist and dragged the hand up until it rested on the base of her throat.

And when she offered that breathlessly fucked yet reassuring smile, Belle saw the flash of his eyes. All black, craving nothing but her, satiated only by her, the sight of him sending a shock straight to her core that spurred on her orgasm and only pulled a pleasured moan from her as he applied just the right amount of pressure as his lips curled. “Fuck, Belle.”

Months ago she never would’ve wanted his hand where it was. Now, it felt too fucking right.

He never stopped as her release washed over her, free hand reaching down to collect some of her release on his finger before licking it clean with smirking lips. The sight was sinful. He was sinful.

Belle’s heart was thundering, sensitive from the two orgasms and the sensation of Ashton continuing his pace as he finally chased for his own release. She tilted her head back, further into the pillows, gasps and moans in the form of his name sounding like music to Ashton’s ears as he leaned down, chest pressed against hers, to meet her lips once more. His own release came when her third one subsided, Belle’s head in the clouds as Ashton groaned against her, animalistic and sexy, their breathing labored and skin flushed.

Belle’s hand remained in his hair, holding him close as she felt his lips gently flutter kisses along her neck as they caught their breaths. She stared up at the ceiling, exhausted and fucked and feeling so damn good. If this was what hell felt like, then she was by all means a sinner.

*****

She wasn’t Enya.

For a long time, that acknowledgment left a bitter taste in Ashton’s mouth, an ache in his chest he hated being plagued by. It haunted him since the moment Enya died, until recently—until now. Ashton had wondered how the hell he could mourn her when her face was one he saw every day. And it had taken him too long, had suffered through too much anger, to come to the realization that, fuck, of course he wasn’t in love with her face. He wasn’t in love with what Enya looked like—he was in love with her. It was complicated, it was difficult to look at Belle and not see Enya—until he no longer saw Enya.

The pout of her lips, whether she was sad or angry or scared or even happy—that was all Belle. The softness of her voice when she spoke, except for when she sometimes let her emotions get the better of her—that was all Belle. The compassion she showed, despite being frightened or mad, without fail—that was all Belle. She was the one who liked her tea with three teaspoons of sugar, she was the one who didn’t care enough to paint her nails, she was the one who always kept a smile on her face against the most difficult customers instead of snapping at them. She wasn’t Enya. She would never be Enya.

And Enya could never be her. And that was okay. Because both of them. . . They had a hold on Ashton, one he didn’t ever want to be rid of.

“Good morning.” Ashton blinked, eyebrows twitching when he looked at Belle, whose eyes were still closed yet a sleepy smile was upturning her kissed lips.

Her dark hair was tousled against the white pillows, appearing a bit too heavenly—but Ashton didn’t mind. He felt a smirk tug at his mouth as his quiet voice returned, “You feel me watchin’ you, doll?”

The endearment, just like last night, had slipped from his mouth without much thought, but Ashton didn’t care. It was fitting. It was hers. Belle’s. Her eyes fluttered open, brilliant green framed with long lashes meeting his hazel, and he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the smile she was giving him. One she hadn’t ever given him before; true and genuine and real. A complete change from what he was used to from her—but embracing it nonetheless.

“I’ve gotten used to it,” she told him with a gentle, sweet laugh, pulling the comforter up to her chin and nestling against it, her eyes never leaving his. As she pulled herself out of her slumber, Ashton noticed the playful glint in her eyes as she added, “It’s not so creepy anymore.”

Ashton raised a challenging eyebrow, smirk widening as his hand under the covers reached over to pinch at her side, earning a squeal from Belle as she jerked away. He didn’t let her get far too easily, teeth biting down on his grinning lower lip as he easily grabbed her around the waist and pulled her closer until he was hovering over her, reveling in the warmth of her naked body against his.

The grin on her face was one Ashton had already committed to memory, one that belonged just to Belle. He noticed, though, after admiring the freckles dusting across her nose and the few marks he’d adorned on her neck, the way her smile faltered a bit as she peered up at him, her hands gripping his biceps, gaze averting as her thoughts took over. Ashton furrowed his eyebrows, feeling something tug in his chest, as he tilted his head.

“Are you okay?” It felt strange asking her that, and genuinely meaning it, and despite himself Ashton felt like a dick for never asking her that before. Part of him told himself it was understandable; he wasn’t human, he didn’t have to care. But he did. Now, he did.

Belle scoffed, almost nervously. “I should be asking you that.” Her gaze lifted, green eyes locking onto hazel as Ashton’s frown deepened in confusion. “Is. . . This okay? You and me? This isn’t—it’s not weird or. . . Or too much for you?”

He heard the concern in her voice, that quality of hers that made her so human; a quality he hadn’t appreciated at first but now couldn’t imagine her without. It was like a flip had switched, how everything that made Belle human was suddenly something Ashton cherished, wanted to protect not just because of a promise, but because he wanted to. Because this wasn’t an overnight shift; it was months of being around her, getting to know her without wanting to, and a fondness and liking and everything in between growing for her that Ashton hadn’t recognized until now that led them to this moment.

It wasn’t too much. It was, Ashton decided in that moment with his body against hers and her green eyes swimming with worry, exactly what he wanted. It was unexpected and new but it was. . . Right.

“It’s not,” Ashton told her, and he didn’t know his voice was capable of growing as soft as it did. It just came naturally to him. Keeping himself above her by resting his weight on his right arm, Ashton lifted his left hand to brush some dark locks away from her face, knuckles grazing along the softness of her cheek. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“It would be okay if it was,” Belle said, her quick words coated in nervous reassurance. “I mean, I look like her so if you went back to hating me, I would get it—”

“I didn’t hate you,” Ashton cut in, the small lie escaping him without much thought. Okay, so obviously her presence wasn’t one he particularly enjoyed for a long period of time. But it had changed.

Belle didn’t buy his lie for a second, shooting him a deadpanned expression. “You looked like staring at my face was the worst form of torture for you,” she retorted, a challenging quirk in her brow that was both familiar and new.

And despite the casual snappiness of her words, Ashton recognized the worry she wasn’t doing too good of a job in hiding. Saw the hesitance, reluctance—fear. And if there was any doubt of Ashton’s feelings for Belle before, it was gone when he realized that he never wanted her to be afraid of or because of him. When once he wouldn’t have cared, would have maybe enjoyed it, now he wanted to be rid of it for good.

She needed reassurance, and by Lucifer Ashton would give it to her.

“Belle,” he spoke up, shifting so he was now sitting up and pulling her up with him. The blankets around them fell at their new position, and upon seeing Belle shiver at the coldness of the cabin against her bare skin, he reached behind him to grab the throw blanket towards the edge of the bed and wrapped it around her naked frame. Ashton didn’t need one for himself, opting to just sit cross legged with only a partial piece of the blanket covering some of his lap. He was satisfied once Belle secured it around herself, saw the small smile on her lips as she looked at him.

He sighed at the sight of her; dark hair messy, lips kissed, freckles in view. Stunning, as she’d always been. “This situation is. . . Strange,” he began, earning a small scoff of a laugh from her. “And I don’t—” Ashton paused, eyebrows knitting together. He wasn’t the best at explaining his feelings, unless they were angry or annoyed. He and Enya never needed to verbalize their feelings, only occasionally in a rare moment. Ashton knew in the back of his mind if he wanted to be with Belle, he’d need to work on it. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re just someone who looks like Enya to me. I don’t want you thinking I. . . Want you because you both shared a face. Because that’s not why. At all.”

He saw the slight wideness of her eyes as she listened to him, pink lips parting as she breathed out, “It’s not?”

Ashton gave a single shake of his head. His hands raised, ring clad fingers tangling in her hair as his palms caressed her cheeks. He leaned close, hazel eyes on green. “You’re not her, and I’m sorry for making you feel at fault for that. I’m sorry for acting as if that was the worst thing in the world.”

“You love her,” Belle reasoned, her voice soft, and Ashton felt something swell in his chest at hearing her defend him against himself. It warmed him. “Of course it was the worst thing in the world.”

“But it wasn’t your fault,” Ashton said. Then he nodded, and there was a lump that had formed in his throat as he thought of Enya. Of the time they’d spent together, of the many faces she’d worn because she couldn’t decide on one vessel like he had so long ago. Memories of the one he loved played across his mind’s eye, and it was painful but. . . Not breathtakingly so. “And I do love her. I always will. But that doesn’t mean I’m not. . . Capable of loving someone else.”

Love was a while away. It was a big leap from where they were now. But looking into Belle’s wide yet welcoming eyes, looking at her shy smile and flushed cheeks, Ashton knew it wasn’t too insane to picture it, to expect it. Especially with her.

He felt her cheeks warm under his touch, feeling his lips curl as she shyly broke their gaze and her own mouth upturned. “I think that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” Belle finally said with a soft, endearing giggle.

He was so fucking stupid for her, slamming into him so quick. And it felt good. It felt human but—that wasn’t so bad.

“Guess you just bring it out in me, doll,” Ashton hummed. Then, with the grip he had on her face, Ashton tilted her head up and leaned in to close the gap, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was a lot softer, a lot slower than any they had shared last night.

He felt her sigh against him, melt into him as she returned the kiss just as savoringly. The kiss was slow as Ashton gently pried her lips open with his own, tongue meeting hers familiarly.

It was weird, strange beyond even his comprehension that kissing Belle was something familiar yet so new. Of course he’d kissed her body before, when she was Enya. But as he kissed Belle now, Ashton knew it was nothing like when he was with Enya. Each woman was different, stunning in their own way. They moved differently, smelled differently, felt different. Ashton adored each one. He missed one, of course. But what he had now—fuck, he’d never allow himself to take it for granted. Belle was familiar and new all at the same time; like kissing her was supposed to fulfill an old craving yet only when he finally did, did he realize that it was something completely new, but delicious in her own way. And suddenly his taste had changed, and he didn’t mind it at all.

They had to pull away moments later, only because Belle’s stomach made a noise that had her laughing against his smirking lips. “Hungry?” he asked knowingly, nose brushing against hers.

“Just a little,” she grinned cutely. “Can I make breakfast?”

Ashton scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No. You’re a shit cook.”

“I—what?!” Belle exclaimed indignantly, pulling back and shooting him an incredulous look. “You’ve never even had my cooking!”

“I don’t need to,” Ashton shrugged, amused and unapologetic. “I’ve seen you eat at home. All you make is Kraft mac and cheese and those nasty microwaveable meals.”

Belle’s jaw was slack, though Ashton could see the smile threatening to break hee features. She hugged the brown throw blanket around her, huffing as she defended, “Excuse me for being too tired to cook! I work two jobs, y’know.”

“And it’s very noble,” Ashton nodded along truthfully. It was a mere few months ago where he called her out for working two jobs that killed her on her feet. Despite it, Ashton saw how hard she worked, knew she was taking care of herself the best way she knew how. He couldn’t fault her for it. Just tease, maybe. “But you’re still a shit cook.” His grin was playfully wicked as he got off the bed, reaching for the sweatpants on the floor as he told her, “Sorry, sweetheart. But this creature from hell is a better cook than you.”

He heard her scoff behind him, heard the ruffle of the sheets as she got up too as she said, “That’s fucked up—I’m more than capable of making, like, pancakes.”

“Yeah?” Ashton challenged, turning to see her now in his shirt. His jaw clenched, the white tee hanging off her frame loosely, legs in view and not doing anything to hide the perk of her nipples against the cold. He looked back up at her, bringing forth a smirk as he said, “Let’s taste ’em.”

About fifteen minutes later they were in the kitchen, with Ashton leaning against the counter next to the stove, arms crossed, as he watched Belle pour some batter in the pan, setting the bowl down as they waited for it to cook. “See?” Belle hummed, gesturing to the two that were already made and and waiting on a plate, perfectly golden and cooked. The smile on her face was proud. “They look good—try one.”

They smelled good, Ashton had to admit, and his gaze met hers and he found himself being unable to say no to her, something he wasn’t entirely used to. So he let out a soft laugh, taking the fork and bottle of syrup and pouring it on one of the pancakes. Belle’s gaze was on him, expectant and anticipating, and Ashton had to fight the smile as he took a bite of it. He chewed, taking a moment as the sweetness exploded on his tongue, not one to really indulge himself in food but he had to admit—Belle wasn’t as much of a shit cook as he’d expected.

“Alright, I’ll give you that—this is good,” Ashton nodded after swallowing his bite, setting his fork down and feeling his lips lift at her grin. He felt, looking at her, that he would tell her anything to see that smile on her face. Fuck.

“Told you,” Belle sniffed, though still smiling as she brought her attention back to the pan.

Ashton watched her, saw the soft smile as she cooked. In the silence of the room, disturbed only by the gentle sizzle of the pancake cooking, Ashton gave himself another moment to look at her. She looked. . . Content in the golden lighting of the kitchen, dark hair messily tied back and his shirt hanging off of her deliciously. Ashton wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her this way, looking so comfortable and. . . Vulnerable. Especially around him.

That was his doing, he knew, was blatantly aware. Knew it was his black eyes and stern features and his less than humane personality that always had Belle looking away from him, had her thinking twice before talking back to him. But they’d come a long way, hadn’t they? Because now she smiled around him and Ashton kind of hated himself for not making her do so long before.

His thoughts tumbled in his head and Ashton’s eyebrows drew together as he considered what Belle had asked him before—if this was okay for him, if it was too weird. He had told her the truth; the pain of losing Enya, it was unbearable and he wasn’t sure if it would ever stop hurting, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t move forward—especially with someone else. Especially with Belle. He hadn’t ever considered being with anyone else, demon or human or anything in between, and he especially didn’t ever consider it with Belle. But, like he had said to her—he didn’t want her because her face was what Enya had worn. He wasn’t disillusioning himself into believing that Belle was Enya, that he was with someone else. He had a better grip on reality than that.

Ashton wanted Belle because she was Belle. Because spending all of this time with her because of Enya had Belle finding a place in his damned heart he thought he’d closed off.

Still. If he was adjusting to this newfound dynamic, Ashton had no doubt so was Belle.

“What you said before, wondering if this was too much for me,” Ashton spoke up, voice slow as he considered them. Belle glanced at him, eyebrows raised as she flipped the pancake onto the plate. The glow of the kitchen light had her freckles standing out. Ashton pursed his lips briefly before asking, “What about you? I haven’t been the best company.” He scoffed out a dry laugh at the understatement of his words. “You’re. . . Okay with this, with us?”

Ashton didn’t need to be told of all of the times he terrified Belle—her widened eyes and frightened features were ingrained in his mind, only now they would haunt him. He’d feel guilty, already did. How Belle could look at him and not feel that way anymore, feel the complete opposite, was beyond his comprehension. Fuck, he was part of the reason why she had nightmares—of when Enya took over her and even recently, when Darron and his men found them. How was she just. . . Okay with being around him? Being with him?

Belle pressed her lips together as she considered his words, gaze dropping to the plate as a silence befell them. He gave the time she needed to get her thoughts together, surprisingly patient. When she looked at him, she offered a smile. “It’s. . . Unexpected,” Belle began slowly, switching off the stove and putting down the spatula. She crossed her arms, leaning her hip against the counter right by Ashton. He looked down at her, looking smaller in his shirt than normal. “I, you know, never thought this would be a thing? I mean, come on—neither of us saw this coming, right?” She let out a gentle laugh when her gaze met Ashton’s watchful one, a corner of his lips quirking up in silent agreement. “I mean, I don’t think this will be. . . Easy,” she tried, a furrow in her eyebrows before offering a small, hopeful smile. “But we can try? We’re already together all of the time and we could—we could try.”

Her voice was soft, almost shy, and Ashton felt something tighten in his chest. Something good, something hopeful. And he hadn’t had a lot of that—hope. Not since Enya died. But hearing Belle tell him that this—no matter how strange and surprising and uncharted as it may be—was something she wanted, just like he did, it filled him with a yearning of wanting to fulfill it.

So he uncrossed his arms, pushing himself away from the counter as he smiled against her gaze. “Yeah, we could try,” Ashton confirmed, and the sight of her smile widening was enough to widen his grin. He ticked his head towards the still warm pancakes and said, “Have a taste of your masterpiece.”

Belle scoffed at his dramatics, watching as he picked up the syrup bottle and she said, “I like a lot of syrup.”

Ashton rolled his eyes, pouring it over the pancakes as he said, “Why am I not surprised?” The woman liked her tea extra sweet, this was a no brainer.

He basically drenched the pancakes in the syrup, cutting off a piece and watching as the syrup dripped off of it in a continuous stream as he held it up with the fork. Belle’s eyebrows shot up as she warned, “That’s gonna get all over your shirt.”

Ashton shrugged, uncaring. “Oh well,” was all he said before bringing the drenched piece over. He grinned widely as the syrup fell off the piece, pressing his tongue to the back of his lower teeth as Belle’s eyes widened and she leaned forward to quickly take the bite, shoulders shaking with the amused laughter escaping her. Just as expected, as he brought the fork over to her mouth, the syrup dripped, a thin strand dropping on his white shirt that she wore while a thicker stream stuck to her chin as she took the bite.

“Told you,” Belle shook her head as she swallowed the piece, quickly licking her lips and reaching for the roll of paper towel to get the excess off her chin.

“Uh-uh-uh,” Ashton tsked, stopping her movements. She looked up at him and Ashton smirked, hands finding the sides of her face as he leaned down to press a kiss to her lower lip. Then his tongue sneaked out, mouth shifting lower as he licked at the sweet syrup on her chin, hearing Belle giggle softly, a sound sweeter than the syrup, as he licked and kissed it off.

Belle’s arm looped around his neck just as Ashton tilted his head up, connecting their lips in a long, savory kiss as his own arms wound around her waist to keep her close. He tasted the syrup on her tongue, tilting his head to kiss her deeply, growling against her mouth when he felt her free hand slide down between their bodies to palm at his hardening cock through the soft material of his sweatpants.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, doll,” Ashton murmured against her, deep and gravelly as it drowned in his desire for her.

Belle smirked into the kiss, uncharacteristic and gorgeous, her hand toying with him sinfully. “Who says you won’t finish?” she returned, the playfulness heavy in her tone, Ashton’s lips dragging against hers as she pulled away and sank to her knees thanks to his loosening grip. His jaw clenched, feeling a warmth in his vessel at the sight of her before him, green eyes glimmering as her fingers tugged at the band of his sweatpants. Fucking hell. “We can save the pancakes for later.”

*****

They had been in the seclusion of their cabin for eleven days when the tranquility was destroyed.

Belle hadn’t noticed at first. She was in the bath, soaking in warm water and bubbles, something her body needed in the harsh coldness of Colorado. It was peaceful, quiet. She never indulged herself in bubble baths with pretty scents such as this when she was home—she didn’t have the time to. But having nothing to do while she was in hiding in a cabin by the mountains gave her an opportunity to indulge herself like this, and she did.

She’d been soaking for about twenty minutes when the echoing sound of something crashing in the living room startled her out of her quiet.

Belle sat up with a gasp, the water sloshing as she looked towards the bathroom door. The sound was distant, like it was coming from downstairs, but it was loud and disturbing. And then there was another, and Belle’s heart was racing as she quickly got up from the tub, ignoring the chills on her skin as she quickly grabbed the towel and dried herself off while simultaneously stumbling out of the tub.

Something was happening, and Belle’s stomach twisted nauseously as her trembling fingers reached for the clothes she’d laid out, quickly getting dressed. She approached the door, quick and quiet, hand resting on the doorknob as she hesitated to open. The sounds continued, thumps and thuds and crashes alike, her heart in her throat as she silently pulled the door open to poke her head out in the hallway.

She didn’t know what to do—unsure if there was anything she could do short of running into the bedroom and hiding herself behind a locked door. There were no voices, just the sound of furniture breaking and—

“Where is she?”

Belle’s throat closed up at the sound of a male voice that most definitely did not belong to Ashton, frozen where she stood in the middle of the hallway like a deer caught in headlights. Oh, God. Oh God oh God oh God. Someone was in the house. Someone was looking for her. They had found them but—how? They were supposed to be safe, secluded. How had they—

“Found her, boss.”

Belle screamed at the sudden voice calling out behind her, unable to move as two hands grabbed her arms from behind and she was no longer in the hallway. She stood in the living room, the fire crackling behind her in the fireplace, the room in disarray with a broken coffee table, lamp, overturned couch, and Ashton on the ground in front of her. He was bleeding, a cut on his lip as well as one above his left eyebrow, slouched against the wall in a beaten heap. But as soon as Belle appeared in front of him, she saw him push himself up, hazel eyes wide and dangerous and pissed the fuck off.

“Get your fuckin’ hands off her,” Ashton snarled, lips curling menacingly as she scowled at the man holding her, grunting when the two men that stood by him jerked him backwards violently.

Belle wanted to run to him, to ease the racing of her heart and the panic flushing her skin, but other than the man holding her and the two keeping Ashton back, there was another who stood between them, his back towards Belle, preventing her from seeing his face. “Now, why would we do that? She’s the one we came for, after all.”

There was something familiar about the voice which had Belle blinking at his back with furrowed eyebrows, feeling the tears already stinging her eyes as she comprehended the severity of this situation. Her upper arms hurt with the grip the demon behind her had on her, chest aching at the sight of a bleeding, hurt Ashton just a few feet too far. And when the faceless guy in front of her turned around, his voice finally matching his face, Belle felt the air rush out of her lungs as tear glassed eyes widened in terrified incredulity.

“O-Ollie?” His name trembled past her lips, staring disbelievingly at her co-worker, blinking quickly as if it would make the sight before her disappear. She felt every bone in her body quake in its place as he smirked at her, sweetly sadistic and terrifying. What the fuck was going on?

“Ollie’s left the building—well, for now, at least,” he said, words followed by the familiar blackness taking over his eyes as Belle’s breath hitched in her throat. Oh, no. Oh, God, no. His eyes returned to their—Ollie’s—usual blue eyes. He turned to fully face her, hands behind his back as he shrugged. “Looks like it’s just you and a bunch of hell’s finest, baby.”

He took a few steps towards her and Belle wished she could move, breath still in her lungs as Ashton growled, “Stay the fuck away from her—I swear, Riz, touch her and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Ollie—or Riz—scoffed, stopping as he turned to face Ashton again. Belle’s eyes flickered down to him, catching onto his labored breathing and stoned features, knowing he desperately wanted to get out of this mess. God, how’d it even happen? How long had this Riz been possessing Ollie? “You couldn’t protect your precious Enya—you really think you can save her? A pathetic, lowlife human? Don’t kid yourself, Ashton.”

Belle saw the way Ashton’s eyes darkened; not the demonic black, but a dangerous, angry dark shade of his pretty hazel that warned of a beast making an appearance. And, God, Belle never thought she’d say this but they really needed that side of him to survive.

“Darron’s dead,�� Ashton spat, blood trailing down the corner of his mouth as his black hair sat messily, tussled, atop his head. “You don’t need to be following his agenda.”

“Nah, but you killed my boss, so I’ll kill your favorite toy,” Riz responded, his voice far too casual, far too threatening. He then turned around to look at Belle again, feeling every drop of the blood in her veins turn to ice as he set his sights on her. She struggled against the hold that was on her, feeling pathetic for the frightened whimper that escaped her as Riz approached. “Gotta say, Belle—you made it so easy for us,” he hummed, a cruel grin on his mouth as she looked at him, teary eyes wide and bewildered and terrified. When he saw the look on her face, he chuckled darkly. “What, you thought your friend Ollie here was the one who called you? Nah, nah,” he shook his head with a click of his tongue. “See, we’ve done our homework. Knew he was your pal, had an inkling as to where Ash here runs off to. We just needed confirmation and you—” Belle gasped when his hand grasped her chin, her wide eyes on his, hearing Ashton grunt and struggle from behind Riz, who smirked down at her. “Gave us just that.”

He let go of her chin harshly and Belle let out another breath, chest heavy as her gaze wandered to the floor, remembering the phone call she’d gotten from who she thought was Ollie days ago. This was on her. She had so stupidly told them exactly what they needed to hear to find them. Now they had, and she and Ashton would be dead and it would be all her fault.

The panic tightening her chest made it difficult to breathe, tears trailing down her cheeks as she ruefully lifted her gaze to find Ashton’s. He was already looking at her, and although she knew she didn’t deserve it, Ashton wasn’t looking at her like she was to blame. His hazel eyes, one that held a fire and promise for vengeance, had a sincere gentleness in them that only had a sob escaping Belle. When he had every right to be pissed off at her for giving away their location, he wasn’t, and it only made the tears come that much faster.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, Riz.” Ashton’s voice was deep, a growl not to be prodded at as his harsh scowl was directed to the man standing between them. His eyes had blackened, endlessly unforgiving. “Gonna kill you just like I killed your boss—not gonna stop until every single one of you fuckers is dead.”

“Yeah?” Riz cocked his head to the side mockingly. “You and what army?”

“Oh, look at that—right on cue.”

Belle gasped as three new figures popped into the room, heart stopping as she took in the new demon arrivals. Each tall, two blondes and a brunette, each looking like they were ready for a fight. They were unfamiliar vaguely familiar to Belle, their faces scratching something in her head she couldn’t quite pick at. Her gaze instantly snapped towards Ashton, who, upon noticing them, wore a smirk on his face and tilted his head over at them, eyes on Riz as he supplied, “That army.”

It was all that needed to be said, because suddenly the room had become a warzone. The man who’d been holding Belle pushed her away from him, sending her stumbling forward as he and the two guys holding Ashton launched at the three people that had just arrived. Belle gasped at suddenly being pushed, but she regained her footing and hurried over to where Ashton was, somehow avoiding being hit.

She didn’t focus on anyone else but Ashton, his arms already held out for her to stumble into as she grabbed his biceps and looked up at him with a tear stained face. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry—I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—I’m so sorry—”

Her rambling, quick paced apology was cut off by Ashton, the room going to hell around them as the fight continued. More loud crashes, thundering punches, and pained grunts could be heard but Belle’s focus was only on Ashton. “Belle, hey, hey, it’s okay—” He was speaking just as quickly, cupping her face and wiping away her tears as his hazel eyes bore into her green ones. “I need you to go hide, okay? Get out of here—I’ll come find you.”

She began shaking her head, too frightened to leave, too petrified to go without him. God, once upon a time she couldn’t wait to be away from him. Now, she absolutely hated the idea. “No, no, Ashton, I can’t—”

“Hey, remember what I said?” Ashton asked, raising his eyebrows. The sharp sound of glass shattering startled Belle. “I will find you, Belle. I promise.”

Those words, once, had been said threateningly, warningly. But in this moment, it was what Belle needed to hear.

So she nodded and with a prodding push from Ashton, Belle sucked in a breath and moved to get out of the way, out of the line of fire. But just as she turned her back to Ashton, she heard a loud grunt before another heavy thud, and before she could even turn to see him collapsing on the floor with a sudden tackle, someone had violently shoved Belle from behind.

Her scream was cut off by the breath being knocked out of her lungs as she harshly fell forward, the edge of the center counter in the kitchen digged into her stomach as she crashed into it, robbing her off her breath as she fell down on the ground. Belle squeezed her eyes shut as she moaned painfully, the ache in her stomach near nauseating as her head screamed at her to get the hell up and move. But before she could, she was roughly being turned around, eyes snapping open and protesting screams falling past her lips before she could help it as her eyes caught sight of Riz above her.

The panic bubbled up once more as she struggled against him, thrashing in hopes of getting him off despite the ache in her stomach from the hit it had taken. Riz’s face was scrunched in a snarl, trying to grab hold of her hands, but before he could, he was pulled right off of her, and Belle gasped as Ashton grabbed Riz from behind and turned him around only to deliver a punch to his jaw.

She pushed herself away, still on the floor, heart pounding in her chest and in her heart, almost muffling the sounds of what was going on in the living room. Belle knew she should get up and run, like Ashton had told her to, but she couldn’t move, watching as Ashton’s features twisted darkly, animalistically, as he and Riz tried to get the best of each other in the kitchen.

“I’d be more than happy to reunite you and Enya,” Riz spat as he slammed Ashton against the fridge, the stainless steel piece rattling against the harsh weight. Belle stumbled to her feet, eyes wide, hoping one of the others would come in and help Ashton, who was struggling against the arm Riz was pressing against his throat. “Right before I kill your new piece right in front of you. Don’t worry—you won’t have to live with the pain of failing two women for too long.”

Belle’s heart was thundering, gaze desperately going to the living room. The two blondes and brunettes, who Belle couldn’t quite remember, were engaged in occupying the three guys Riz had shown up with. No one to help Ashton.

But just as she brought her gaze back, something caught her attention. Belle’s eyes widened at the familiar blade on the ground, breath stilling. The dagger that Enya had given Ashton lay on the floor, probably having fallen during their struggle, and it was right there. And Belle didn’t even think. She saw the fight Ashton was losing against Riz, having taken too many beatings to hold his own like he usually would, and he just moved, without a thought.

The blade felt familiar in her hand as she picked it up, silver and lethal, and all those memories of Enya wielding it came rushing back to Belle in that moment. Of her holding it tightly but fluidly, of the many times she used it to protect herself and Ashton with.

Ashton.

He needed help, and that was all it took.

Blade in hand, Belle ran forward, her bare footsteps muted under the rambunctious sounds of the fights in the living room, arm pulling back and teeth clenched as the anger burned her blood. Anger of living her life in fear, anger of nearly being killed, anger over Enya’s death, and an overwhelming anger of seeing Ashton hurt and nearly being killed himself.

She reached them, her arm swung forward, and the blade was buried to the hilt in Riz’s back.

Belle gasped as she felt the blade rip through flesh and muscle, stumbling back as the roar of pain ripping through Riz’s throat and he instantly let go of Ashton, who coughed and watched with widened, disbelieving eyes as Riz tried to reach for the blade lodged in his back. But he couldn’t, not for the life of him, and Belle breathed heavily as she quickly made her way around to Ashton, needing to be close to him, the tension in her muscles easing only when his arm wrapped around her protectively to keep her close.

Riz’s struggle didn’t last long, the blade doing what it did best and killing the demon that lay inside. He fell to the floor, collapsing harshly on his stomach as Belle watched with wide eyes and a heavy chest. He was dead. . . She had killed him.

Ashton’s arm was tight around her and she pressed her face against his chest, eyes closing as she breathed him in. Riz was dead and she would do it again if it meant saving Ashton.

“Belle? Hey, doll, it’s okay. Look at me.” It was Ashton’s softened voice that had her finally opening her eyes, sniffling as her heart only just began to calm down as she looked up at him. She wanted to clean up the blood staining his handsome face, no matter how bad ass he looked. Ashton’s hands came up to cup her cheeks, thumbs drying her tears as he ducked his head to look at her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Her stomach still hurt, no doubt about it, but she would live. She would live—even if it was her fault she almost didn’t. “Ash, I’m so sorry. It was my fault they found us. I never should’ve answered that call. It was so stupid and—”

“Stop,” Ashton cut in with a shake of his head, eyebrows knitting together in a disapproving frown. “It’s okay. We’re okay. We—because of you, we’re okay.”

She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, letting out a shaky breath as she looked over at the body in the living room. Belle inhaled sharply, no longer seeing Riz’s face, but Ollie’s. “Oh, God,” she breathed out, lips trembling. “Is he—is Ollie alive?”

Someone stepped over—the blonde with green eyes—and he crouched down to his knees and pressed his fingers at Ollie’s pulse point in his neck. He was silent for a moment before looking up at Belle and Ashton, offering a nod. “He’s got a pulse. It’s weak, but it’s there.”

The relief flooded Belle with a sharp exhale, hands clutching at Ashton’s arm, heart still thundering. She had a feeling it would take a minute for it to calm down. Next to her, Ashton requested, “Can you take him to the hospital?”

The other blonde scoffed in disbelief. “Seriously? The hospital? We’re not—”

He instantly shut up when the brunette smacked him upside the head, the tall blonde letting out a grunt of annoyance and shooting the brunette a glare, who didn’t even bother looking at him as he nodded at Ashton. “Sure thing, man.” Then, his dark eyes shifted over at her, and he offered another single nod. “Good to see you alive, Belle.”

She blinked at him, still in the process of trying to place the names of these demons, until Ashton rubbed at her arm and said, “Thanks, Calum. The other?”

Calum. She knew that name. Her eyes narrowed slightly, looking at the three of them once more as Calum answered, “Michael and I took care of Bram and Galen but Luke let Jace get away. We’ll find him, though.”

The tallest of them, Luke, sputtered. “I didn’t fucking let anyone get away—he threw me out the damn window and bolted!”

Michael rolled his eyes to the ceiling, shaking his head as he told Ashton, “We’ll find Jace. He won’t be hard to track down.” Nodding at the others, he said, “Come on, let’s take this guy.”

Belle’s lips parted as their names finally rang the bell in her head, recognizing the three demons as friends of both Ashton and Enya’s. During her possession, she’d seen them through Enya’s eyes a handful of times, remembered that they were the only three other demons that Enya trusted after Ashton. For the right reasons, too; they’d shown up to help Belle and Ashton, and she would be appreciative of it forever.

She watched as Michael twisted the blade in Ollie’s back, wincing as he pulled it out and put it on the counter top before giving Calum the go ahead. As the brunette bent down to pick up Ollie’s body, Ashton said, “Appreciate you showing up, boys.”

“’Course, man,” Calum said, not even so much as a grunt escaping him as he stood with a grown man in his arms. He smirked lightly, gaze flickering to Belle. “I’d say take care of her but looks like it should be the other way around.”

A soft scoff escaped Belle at that, leaning into Ashton’s touch as she felt him snort out a laugh of his own. She was tired, sleepy, kind of in pain, and worried about Ollie. Belle knew they’d make sure he didn’t remember anything, would be careful about taking him to the hospital and all of it, and she hoped he made a speedy recovery. There was an underlying bit of guilt for hurting him the way she did, her hand still trembling from her actions, but she knew she had to do it. To save Ashton, she’d do it all over again.

*****

There was a strange marking on Belle’s hand. A fading brand, almost, slightly pink in her right palm as she eyed it critically. The print was familiar, like she’d seen it somewhere before, but she couldn’t tell where. But it was there, within the lines of her palms, swirling lines and intricate circles remnant of a pattern of some sort. Where had she seen it before?

“Belle, have you seen the blade? Is it upstairs?”

She dropped her hand to her side, looking around the room upon hearing Ashton’s voice in search of the weapon. The two of them were preparing to leave the cabin, and while coming here had been a bit unwilling, Belle was a bit sad to leave it and go back to her life. But she reminded herself that her life would be different now, slightly. Those who were after her because of Enya were gone, her life was no longer in danger, and her demon protector would still be sticking around—but as something more. Life wouldn’t exactly be the same, but hopefully it would be better.

She looked around her room, eyes landing on the weapon that lay on the bedside. “Yeah, found it!” Belle called back, walking over to it. She reached over for the blade but stopped instantly, eyebrows drawing together when she, in that moment, recognized the pattern on the hilt of the blade.

Belle’s breath caught in her throat, turning her palm over to compare the print in her skin against the hilt, frown deepening as the resemblance stared right back at her. “What the hell?” she whispered, slowly and cautiously reaching to pick up the blade. In the silence of the room, Belle heard a click, blinking when she turned the blade and realized that a small compartment opened up at the bottom of the hilt.

Okay. What?

Lips pursed, Belle pulled it open the rest of the way, eyebrows shooting up when she noticed a rolled up piece of parchment inside. Trying not to think about how she felt as though she was in some weird fantasy, sci-fi movie, Belle bit her lower lip as she took the paper and unrolled it, eyeing the cursive handwriting on it. What she read made her heart stop short.

This blade is my last gift to Ashton, and he is my last gift to you. Take care of one another for me.

“Oh, my God.”

Enya. The note was from Enya. . . To her.

For the first time, Belle found herself crying for someone she never thought she’d shed tears over, heart tightening as she took a deep, shaky breath. The one who had made Belle feel as though she’d lost control of herself, of everything. . . And Belle mourned for her.

She would miss her. It was strange and complicated, but true.

“Doll—you ready to go?”

Belle took in another breath, closing the hilt of the blade and putting the parchment in the pocket of her jeans. “Yeah,” she called back, voice surprisingly steady as she wiped at the few tears that had escaped. Dagger in hand, Belle exited the bedroom and made her way down the stairs, footsteps thudding on the wooden stairs as she descended.

The living room had been repaired after the fight from a few days ago, looking as undisturbed as it had been when they’d first arrived. Belle caught sight of Ashton by the front door, her bags right by him and keys in his hand. She raised her eyebrows at them—they hadn’t taken any kind of transportation when they first arrived, just Ashton’s powers.

“Are we driving back?” Belle questioned curiously once she reached them. They were a good few states and over a day drive away from home.

“Yeah,” Ashton nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, showing off some dimples she had come to adore. He shrugged. “Thought we’d make a road trip out of it, if that’s something you’re interested in.”

Belle felt the smile tug at her lips, tilting her head. The idea was sweet, one she was more than happy to indulge in. “Stuck in a car with you for over a day?” she hummed, taking the few steps towards him and tilting her head back to look up at him and that damned smirk. “Never thought I’d look forward to it.”

Ashton lowered his eyebrows in a mock frown, lips flattening as he poked to fingers into her side. Rolling his eyes at her teasing, he huffed, “I take that as a yes?”

She laughed, nodding as she wrapped one arm around his waist. “Yes,” she confirmed. Then she raised her right hand, showing the blade, “Wouldn’t wanna leave without your prized possession first.”

Ashton looked over at the blade, a soft smile curling at his lips and Belle mirrored his smile as he took it from her. He looked at it as Belle wrapped her right arm around him as well, saw the fondness in his eyes, and it warmed her heart. He wouldn’t forget about Enya, ever, and Belle never wanted him to. Neither of them would forget her, that she knew for sure. “You were pretty badass with this, y’know,” Ashton mused, gaze flickering to Belle with an impressed raise of his eyebrows.

A soft huff of a laugh escaped her, feeling a warmth in her cheeks. Green eyes on his hazel, Belle shrugged, voice gentle as she said, “I didn’t always see it but you’ve been taking care of me for a while—it was about time I did the same for you.”

She saw the emotion flicker across his face upon hearing her words, a quiet appreciation and adoration dedicated solely to her that had Belle’s heart leaping in her chest. She was still getting used to this side of Ashton, knew he was getting used to this side of her. A learning experience both of them were on together—one that no doubt would be full of excitement and hopefully a lot more of those gorgeous dimpled smiles Ashton was capable of.

Strands of black hair fell across his forehead as he raised an eyebrow at her. “I take care of you, you take care of me; is that how it’s gonna be, then?” he questioned, the lilting tone in his voice telling her he had no qualms about it.

Belle pushed herself up on her toes, lips brushing against Ashton’s, knowing he could feel the excited racing of her heart in her chest as she murmured, “Yeah; you’re just gonna have to learn to deal with it.”

Ashton grinned, dimples in view, tilting his head just a fraction to press his lips to hers. Belle melted into him, into his embrace and kiss and everything in between, a contentment she’d never known before relaxing her in Ashton’s hold. He kissed her like he meant it, like it was all he wanted to do, and she knew the feeling was so damn mutual. “That’s perfectly alright with me.”

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @loveroflrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @wildflowergrae @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter @sunnysidesblog

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madamslayyy · 5 years ago

Text

Log Cabin And A Brewing Fire VIII

Pairing: Nebraska Williams (Trevante Rhodes) x Reader

Warnings: This is a SLOW BURN FIC. I’m going at what I believe is a realistic place via my perception. I know y’all want some steam but this is SLOW BURN. Please checkout my Masterlist for other works if you’re looking for a little raunchiness.

A/N: To everyone I trolled yesterday, April Fools! (Except it’s not April) I’m definitely finishing this series, just had to make y’all sweat a little bit 😂😘 If you haven’t caught up on the previous chapters, check them out here via MY MASTERLIST.

Also I usually put this at the bottom of the Chapter but I don’t think people actually read that so I’m putting it here, if you want to be tagged, THIS POST will tell you how. Please don’t come to my inbox asking or leaving it on the chapters because I always forget to check and I feel so guilty leaving people out when they ask or accidentally ignoring them.

Anyway I’ve rambled long enough, love y’all and hope y’all enjoy this.

~*~

“Training Day again, Mr. Williams?” Nebraska’s students whined.

“It’s either that or run laps.” He grinned.

“It’s too cold to run laps. And it’s snowing outside. Aren’t there like... child labor laws or something?” One of his students asked.

“Could always make you guys run laps inside until 12:00. You all prefer that?” Nebraska grinned at the chorus of “No’s” coming from his class.

“Alright, Training Day it is,” Nebraska put on the film and retreated to his office. Today was the last day of school before Thanksgivings break. It was the Tuesday before the holiday and the students were only required to attend a “Half” day before being dismissed at noon.

You actually had the entire week off for the holiday and were planning on going to see your Aunt and Uncle this week. Nebraska has insisted you go on alone and enjoy your time with your family but you had refused.

“I’ll only go if you’re going. No one should be alone during the holidays.”

In these last couple of weeks Nebraska thought he’d been doing a pretty good job distancing himself from you. The two of you no longer slept in the same bed together, he was careful not to get too close to you when the two of you had to be around each other and even then he kept that to a minimal. The two of you rarely ever saw eachother and he was trying to keep it that way.

You, on the other hand, had a different idea. It seemed like the more he retreated, the more you would seek him out. You were determined not to let things get weird between the two of you. Nebraska wasn’t sure if it was out of pity that you were still being so nice to him after his screw up but he knew it only served to further his guilt.

Nebraska used the hour or so he had left to grade papers and before he knew it, the bell rang at noon and his students began filing out the classroom. He walked out his office to stop the movie and put up the equipment. That was one thing he actually did love about teaching the JROTC students, they were typically pretty well behaved. Nebraska was also sure it was because the other coach, Colonel McNeal, even in his old age, had put the fear of god in these kids.

Nebraska was almost through with his stack of papers he’d been grading and decided to finish it out before leaving so that was one less thing to grade during the break.

“Knock Knock,” Tonya peeped her head in through the door before coming in fully and taking a seat.

“Ah I thought you’d be halfway to St. Mary’s by now,” Nebraska chuckled. St. Mary’s was the elementary school her sons attended.

“Well the boys’ father have them today and tomorrow but Mama gets Thanksgiving,” she grinned, showing all thirty two of her nearly perfect teeth.

“Always good to get a little peace and quiet before the holidays,” Nebraska nodded.

“Amen to that. Which actually brings me to my next point. I know you’re new in town and single and I would hate for a nice guy such as yourself to be alone for Thanksgiving. What do you say to coming to my house for Thanksgiving? You could even stop by the night before, help me do a little Pre-dinner Turkey stuffing,” Tonya offered cheekily and Nebraska knew exactly where she was going with this. Again.

“Thanks for the... um... generous offer T, but I won’t be alone for the holidays, I have Y/N,” Nebraska said trying to let her down as gently as possible.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you two were so.... close,” Tonya said, her smile faltering.

“Yeah we’re driving down to see her Uncle. He was... actually still is... my Lieutenant. Anyway we’re just gonna stay with them for the holiday,” Nebraska smiled but the atmosphere was awkward. It was awkward every time he had to reject her but she was persistent to say the least.

“I see. Well I’ll get out of your hair. Gotta get going to the store before all of the good Turkeys are gone,” she laughed dryly before exiting his office.

“Enjoy your break, T,” he called as she made her hasty getaway.

~*~

Nebraska awoke with a start. He glanced over from his position in the passengers seat to see you, your eyes in deep concentration of the road ahead. He yawned and your face relaxed a bit from its focused contortion as you were made aware of his wakefulness.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” you chuckled. Nebraska glanced at the clock in the car and it read 12:34.

“That late huh?” He said sitting up.

“Yeah but the plus side is we’ll be there in half an hour.”

“I was out for that long? Sheesh,” Nebraska scoffed.

“Well you had been at work all day. I was snoozing the whole time.” You said in that melodic voice of yours. How were you this chipper even in the dead of night?

~*~

The two of you continued on the road until finally making it to your Uncle and Aunt’s home. It was well after 1 a.m. so you and Nebraska did your best to sneak in quietly. You were grateful they still kept a spare key in a potted plant just in case someone ever got locked out.

You and Nebraska creeped upstairs and made it to your room, it seemed, without being detected.

“Sheesh, I’m exhausted,” you said stretching out on your bed. Nebraska came in afterwards, carrying your luggage and his because he was still ever the gentleman.

“There’s a-“ Nebraska’s sentence was cut off by your bedroom door swinging open to reveal your Uncle carrying a steel baseball bat, eyes alert.

“Uncle RayRay!!!” You squealed jumping up to hug the man.

“Do you all have any idea what time it is? We weren’t expecting you to get here until Wednesday,” he croaked. He had clearly just woken up.

“It is Wednesday. And we wanted to get ahead of the traffic,” you pointed out.

“Well you nearly gave Mabel a heart attack. Williams, good to see you, boy. Let me show you to your room,” He said indicating for Nebraska to follow him.

“You as well, sir” Nebraska said, following your Uncle, his luggage in hand.

You had never really thought about it but you’d always just assumed Nebraska would stay in the same room as you, just like at home. Then it dawned on you, your Uncle had no idea how bad Nebraska’s sleeping patterns were. You thought maybe you should mention it but there was no way he’d willingly allow you and Nebraska in the same bed without a marriage certificate between you two. He was old fashioned that way.

So you reluctantly just resigned to your bed alone, the exhaustion from driving sending you immediately into slumber before you even had a chance to unpack.

~*~

The next morning you came downstairs to none other than your Aunt’s amazing home cooked breakfast. She was hovering over the stove still making Breakfast while Nebraska and your Uncle were seated at the table, already eating.

“So nobody was gonna wake me up?” You yawned, taking your seat next to Nebraska.

“Figured you’d be out til dinner the way you sleep,” your Aunt said putting down your breakfast in front of you. French toast, sunny side up eggs and her special fried hash browns. Your mouth began to salivate just looking at it.

“Thank you MaeMae,” you said, digging in. Breakfast carried on peacibly but you kept glancing over at Nebraska. He seemed tired, and quiet. Well he was always quiet but a little more than usual. Maybe he was a little uncomfortable here. The last time he saw his General, he had put a bullet through his brain. He never told you the reason why because you two never talked about it but you’d bet Raynard knew. And that’s probably what made it so awkward.

“Alright now Y/N I got a list here for you of things I need done today. I need you to run by the store and pick up some...” Your Aunt Mabel began naming off the various ingredients she still needed for Thanksgiving tomorrow and the other chores she’d assigned you for today. Even though you were an adult, she still believed in putting you to work.

“There. That shouldn’t be too tough,” she said finishing the list of tasks and handing it to you, “Maybe you could take that quiet fella with you, he’s pretty big, he can help you carry some of that stuff.”

“Oh Nebraska probably doesn’t wanna be bothered running errands with me,” you said shrugging off the notion.

“Sure I do,” Nebraska was on the other side of the kitchen leaning against the counter. Both you and your Aunt jumped in surprise, neither of you having heard him even enter the room.

“Good lord boy, anybody ever told you about sneaking up on an old woman! About to give me a heart attack,” Mae said clutching her chest.

~*~

“Why do we need so many flowers, again?” Nebraska asked as he watched the florist load bundle after bundle of fresh cut flowers into your car.

“Mae takes any holiday when family comes over serious. One time she ordered over 20 preplanted trees for Arbor Day. Ended up giving them away as party favors as everyone left.” You said smiling at the memory.

“So it’ll be pretty packed tomorrow, huh?” Tre said watching the florist load the last bundle into the car.

“You have no idea.”

~*~

You couldn’t sleep. You’d tried everything from drinking tea to counting sheep but your body just couldn’t seem to fall into restful bliss without a certain burly figure wrapped around you.

You’d thought about going to see what he was doing, if he was still up but you refrained, not wanting to bother him.

He’d been... weird about things since the camping trip, even tried sleeping in his own bed again but you’d eventually broke him down by acting as if nothing had changed. That was a lie though, everything had changed. Where you merely acknowledged his attractiveness before, you now ached at the sight of him. The mere thought of his lips, so soft and inviting, was enough to send you into a frenzy. When his hand was on your stomach you could practically feel the strength beneath his fingers. You often thought of his strength and stamina. Fantasized about it actually. Fantasized about him getting rough with you, throwing you around before returning to his default sweet nature, making up for it in every possible way.

You were interrupted mid-daydream (or night dream since it was a little past 11p.m.) by a round of small knocks at the door followed by Nebraska peeking his head in.

“You still up?” He asked. You nodded and he came all the way in, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked and you felt that familiar shimmer in your stomach as your insides intertwined.

“Of course,” you said a bit breathlessly. He crawled in next you and it was actually a bit... awkward.

“I missed you,” you quipped, interrupting the silence. A goofy grin instantly broke out across Nebraska’s face, which he tried to hide via scratching the back of his head and looking away.

“I, uh, gotta admit I feel the same,” now it was your turn to be bashful.

“Why are we acting like we never see each? Like we didn’t just spend the last two whole days together?” You giggled and Nebraska smirked.

“I guess this is..... different, you know.... more... physical....” he was staring at your lips and you unconsciously bit your lip in response. That seemed to break his trance and he glanced up, a look of guilt marring his perfect features.

“I should probably-,” he said shifting away from you to stand up.

“Nebraska please, don’t...go,” your arm was now wrapped around his chest in an attempt to keep him from leaving. He was so warm, the curls of his chest hair tickling your fingers. His muscles were tense, you could feel them flex beneath you.

“I need you...” you whispered and that’s when the dam broke between the two of you. Nebraska pivoted in your arms, crashing his lips to your own. This wasn’t the same kind of kiss as in the woods. This was something completely different; something hungry and desperate. You could feel him still holding back so you decided to go all in, returning the smooch tenfold, both hands leaving their position at his torso to cup his face.

“Y/N...” he moaned, you felt like you might pass out. His hands latched themselves to your hips, pulling you into his lap. Your hands shifted from his jaw to his shoulders in order to steady yourself, pulling him even closer, meeting his eagerness with your own.

“Take thi- shit,” he moaned as you perched your full weight onto his lap, his already awakened member there to greet you.

“Too much? Am I too heavy?” You asked, beginning to rise from his lap only to have him pull you back down.

“No, you’re perfect babygirl. More than perfect,” he began kissing down your neck, his teeth grazing against the base of your neck hard enough to bruise.

You were melting beneath his touch. He was so quiet and reserved in his daily life so to be succumbed to his passion in such a raw and unfiltered way made your head swim. You never thought a man of his beauty, candor, and strength would look twice at someone like you yet here he was, your touch alone powerful enough to leave him a moaning, whimpering figure of lust beneath you. It gave you a surge of confidence you’d never quite experienced in the bedroom before.

“Take this off,” Nebraska said tugging at your night shirt. That’s when you remembered you weren’t wearing a bra. Meaning you’d be completely exposed to him, pooch, rolls and all.

“Hey, it’s just us here, okay?” He said pecking your lips when he sensed your hesitation.

“O-okay. Can you get the light?” You nodded towards the lamp on you side desk next to your bed.

“As long as I’ve been dreaming about this moment? No way, I gotta see you,” Nebraska said biting his lips, his eyes gazing over you with pure karnal lust. Your stomach fluttered.

You took your shirt off and he was immediately in awe. He gently took one soft mound in his hand, plopping your already hardened nipple into his mouth. Your nails dug into his shoulders as his tongue swirled around the sensitive flesh. Nebraska smirked at your obvious arousal, the vision of his pristine white teeth against your brown areola was almost a work of art.

When he began to go for the other nipple you pushed him back gently, crawling off his lap but he swiftly pulled you back on.

“Where are you going?

“Shhh... just relax,” you said and he finally let you go, allowing you to maneuver yourself between his legs, pulling his boxers down. His swollen member sprang free of the fabric and for a second you thought you might be hallucinating. He was certainly bigger than any man you’d ever been with, and his girth definitely looked more delectable, the pigment from his shaft to his head all one even color that matched the ebony complexion of his skin.

“You were hiding... all this... this whole time?” Your eyes were fixated on his throbbing length.

“Didn’t think you would care either way,” Nebraska said in a breathy voice. You gazed into his brown eyes in utter disbelief before returning to the task at hand.

You kissed your way up his thighs slowly to tease him, dragging your nails lightly along the sensitive area. His dick jumped in excitement.

He was already leaking precum, the head glistening with his essence. You gripped his base and feathered kisses up his shaft, teasing his head with your tongue. The second you took his tip fully into your mouth, he shuddered, gripping the bedsheets for dear life.

“Relax, Braska, let me take care of you,” you said in what you hoped was a ‘sultry’ voice. It had been a while since you’d gave a man head and you were racking your brain, trying to make sure there wasn’t anything you forgot with the inexperience of time.

You slurped him from base to tip, taking your time to get it extremely wet so your hand could pump him easily. You made sure to spit on it just for extra measure and you swore you saw Nebraska’s eyes roll into the back of his head.

You took him into your mouth and immediately hollowed your cheeks, sucking his over sensitive tip while pumping his base. You alternated between this motions and deep throating him as far as you could take him, making quite the show of gagging on his incredible length. You traveled down further, making sure to not to forget his scrotum, sucking one half and then the other while your hands handled the main attraction.

Where Nebraska was tembling before, he was a blubbering mess now, moaning your name along with a string of curse words as he chased his own pleasure. He took one hand and brought it to the back of your head, guiding you back to his swollen tip. You knew he couldn’t keep his orgasm at bay for much longer so you switched into full concentration mode, paying close attention to what would get him over that edge. His hand on the back of your head was gripping you so tight, you thought he might snatch your headscarf off.

“Shit, Y/N, don’t stop. Please, baby, right there, right there,” he begged and you made sure to adhere to him. Right as he was about to explode in your mouth, he grabbed himself and took it out, opting instead to nut on your face. You graciously accepted his release , the warm essence coating your face. You couldn’t help but giggle as he smeared some of it across your lips with his head, tapping the semi-firm member against them.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Nebraska asked out of breath. You shrugged as you got up to go wash your face.

You’d were in the middle of wiping off his ‘gift’ when he followed right after you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“Nebraska, I gotta wash my face and brush my teeth,” you cooed, grabbing a clean face towel and your night routine face wash. Nebraska turned your head to the side, capturing your lips in one of the slowest, sloppiest kisses you’d ever experienced, emphasizing his tongues presence in your mouth as a ‘Thank You’. When Nebraska finally let your lips go he continued clinging to you, only unwrapping himself once so that he could clean off his own member.

Once the two of you were clean, you took to bed. Nebraska, in a position much similar to earlier, engulfed you in himself, peppering you with kisses until he fell asleep. You fell asleep soon after, still not a hundred percent sure if what had just transpired was real or a dream.

~*~

You woke up noticeably cold. And alone. You glanced over to the other side of the bed to find it empty. That wouldn’t be that unusual any other morning but then the events of last night came flooding back to you. You couldn’t believe how brazen you’d been with him last night and the embarrassment immediately came crushing in.

Also why wasn’t he here? There wasn’t a single sign he’d ever been here. Even back home it was unusual for Nebraska to just silently wake up and creep out like a thief in the night. He probably came to his senses about you last night, which is why he’d ran for the hills.

What more could he possibly want anyway? You’ve already sucked him off. He doesn’t need to entertain you anymore. He got what he came for.

You tried to shake the negative thoughts from your head as you hopped in the shower but they were incessant.

What if he was in a relationship with Tonya. You were so desperate for him last night, you hadn’t even thought to ask. What if you made him a cheater because you couldn’t control yourself around him and just had to jump at the chance to show him you could be a slut. What would he want with one of those anyway when he has a woman like Tonya waiting for him back home.

As you walked down stairs you saw Nebraska moving tables with your Aunt supervising. You couldn’t bare to make eye contact with either of them. It didn’t matter because Mabel heard you anyway

“Y/N! About time you woke up girl, I need you to run down to Annie Sinclair’s- you remember Miss Sinclair don’t you? I need you to runs down to her place and pick up the four Pecan Pies she was supposed to have delivered yesterday,” Mabel said scribbling down the address. You nodded and grabbed your keys, leaving without a word. You didn’t notice Nebraska’s intense eyes longingly look after you as you left.

~*~

By the time you returned back home with your Aunt’s pies, there were cars filling up the driveway and parked on the street out front.

You carried them in but the kitchen was full of different dishes, along with her cooking and you had no where to put them. You sat them down on the dining table and hoped that would suffice for now.

You wandered around looking for her, speaking to various extended family members. Almost everyone here was from her side of the family but they didn’t treat you any different.

“So how’s that museum going baby? What is it you do there again?” You great Aunt Lettie asked.

“Well actually I-“

“Y/N! Girl I been looking for you everywhere! Come on in here and help ya Auntie in the kitchen,” Mabel said thundering down the stairs. You said your condolences to Lettie then followed your Aunt into the kitchen.

You looked around as she began stirring something in a pot, “So what exactly was it that you needed help with?”

“Oh child, nothing. I just know how Lettie gets and she’ll talk your head off all day if you let her,” she chuckled, throwing on her Apron. You sighed in relief, sinking down in a chair for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Tired?” Mabel quipped.

“You have no idea,” you rubbed the side of your temples trying to alleviate a potential headache in its tracks.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be if you actually slept at night,” you felt your heart drop as your eyes flew open.

“Save it. I went to fetch that boy this morning so he could move some furniture around for me. Imagine my surprise to see not only his room empty but that he’d some how stumbled into yours. Better be glad it was me who drug him out of there and not your uncle.” She turned her attention away from stirring the pot to... well... stir the pot.

“There’s nothing going on between us... we just sleep next to each other. But we’re not... like that,” you averted your eyes. Wait, did she say she drug him out of your room this morning?

“Sell that tale to some other simpleton, I’ve seen the way you been eyeing that man. And more importantly, how he looks at you. That’s love, honey, clear as day,” Was it that obvious that your heart ached for him every time you were in a five feet radius of the man?

“I... I.... I didn’t mean for this to happen...”

“For what to happen? To fall for him harder than a piano with a paper parachute?” She didn’t need an answer, your face said it all. “Look, I don’t know exactly what you two got going on rattling around in those big, pretty heads of yours but what I do know is if there were ever two people who needed a little love, deserved a little love in their life, I’m looking at them.”

You felt like you could cry. You’d been so in denial about everything you felt for this man for so long that now faced with your own feelings, they almost threatened to overpower you.

“I- if he doesn’t feel the same, if this is one sided- I- I’ve never really felt this way about anyone before. If he rejects me, it’ll tear me apart. I can’t risk the heartache,”

“Child the world is full of heartache the same way it’s full of rejection. That’s just the nature of life. But one things for sure, nothing will ever come of the two of you skirting around each other like a pair of mice. You need to clear things up even if it doesn’t go according to your plan, which knowing you, you probably don’t even have one. Go talk to the man.” And that was that on her lecture. She turned around and resumed stirring whatever she was cooking on the stoveto, only glancing over her shoulder when she noticed you hadn’t moved.

“I meant now.”

~*~

“And that’s when I told him, ‘look, I don’t care if the god damn Marshal himself rides up on a golden chariot and declares the sanction with feathers flying straight out his ass, I’m not moving my platoon for nobody!’” The table Nebraska was currently sitting at burst into laughter and he cracked a smile to be polite but he didn’t have the slightest clue what the conversation was about. Didn’t really care to be honest. His mind was on one thing and one thing only, that thing of course being you.

It all still felt like a dream to him, he’d almost believe it was if he hadn’t woke up in your bed. Correction, somebody woke him up and it wasn’t you. One look at your Aunt’s face and he knew the jig was up.

“Come help me move some tables, big fella,” she said closing your door behind her. He pulled on his sweatpants which had still been discarded on the floor and followed behind her. He stopped quickly in his own room to grab a shirt. Thank god you’d had the mind to cover up after last night’s escapade. That would only make the situation look worse.

Nebraska was sure he was in for a lecture but the older woman continued on as if she’d seen nothing out of the ordinary, giving out various orders to get ready for the day. Preparation that was much needed by the way. In only a matter of hours the house was filled to the brim with more people than Nebraska could have possibly anticipated. But that was hardly a problem because that gave him ample opportunity to avoid you.

He didn’t know what was going through his mind last night but he had embarrassed himself beyond belief. Looking back, he wished he’d done so many things differently. He wished he had been man enough not to ejaculate so early. He wished he had took care of your pleasure first before obtaining his own. He wished he had thrown all the foreplay out the window and been inside you. When you came downstairs this morning and wouldn’t even look at him, he knew you regretted it. Of course you’d expected more out of him. He had expected more out of himself, but he promised himself if he ever got the opportunity for such intimacies with you again, he’d ravish you the way you deserved.

And oh did you deserve it and then some. The way your mouth had worked Nebraska last night, he could have died a happy man right then, right there. You sucked him off in a way he’d never been before, leaving him completely putty on your well-versed hands. You obviously must have had quite the experience in this area because you knew exactly what to do at every turn, getting him to his release faster than he could himself. Just the thought alone made him crave you, want to seek you out. It had been easier for him to deny his sexual urges for you when he had no point of reference but last night had only served to intensify his need to bed you. A need he’d probably never satisfy after his embrassing performance last night.

Nebraska realized he was completely lost to the conversation with the oldhead army men around him, friends of the Lieutenant no doubt, so he respectfully excused himself then went to head upstairs. He needed a moment to himself to collect his thoughts and stop obsessing over you. But it looked as if luck wasn’t on his side today.

As he began his ascension up the stairs you were coming down and suddenly, your eyes locked. You looked just as beautiful as ever, your mauve skirt and Jean button down accentuating your tempting chubby figure. His mind immediately went to the feel of your curves molding against his own physique, the memory of your delicious weight on his lap igniting a fire in him. He really needed to calm down.

“Hey...” you said in a voice he almost couldn’t hear.

“Hey,”

“Can, um, can we talk?” You asked tugging at the bottom of your skirt.

“Course,” Shit, Nebraska knew where this was going.

“Okay, um..... in here,” she tugged his arm and pulled him into the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind her.

“We need to talk about last night,” Nebraska’s blood went cold.

“I’m listening...”

“I didn’t mean to- That wasn’t my intention to- if you- I wasn’t trying to-“

“Save it, Y/N. Just forget it ever happened.” Nebraska couldn’t listen to this. He couldn’t hear how much you regret being with him. What easily was a night of utter perfection for him was nothing more than an impulsive mistake for you and that realization hurt too much to hear verbalized.

“Nebraska please just... let me talk. Even if you don’t care about what I have to say, at least let me say it. Please...,” your voice cracked and he could hear the tears you were fighting back in your voice. He thought about storming out to save himself from having to watch this breakdown but he knew him leaving would only cause you to burst into tears and he just couldn’t do that to you. So Nebraska resigned to leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, indicating to you that you had his full attention.

“Ok look. I- I don’t know the full nature of you and Tonya’s relationship but I’m not an idiot. I knew something was going on with you two but I still went after you anyway and I just want to apologize profusely for impeding on your relationship with her,” you took a breath, “but I feel I owe it to you, and to myself, to be honest about my... feelings the last few months. I- I’m not the most experienced with men. I often read into things way too much. I’m anxious to a fault. But either way, I somehow deluded myself into seeing your kindness and gentleman-like ways for something they weren’t. I- I began developing feeling for you when I shouldn’t have. And for that I apologize.... again.” You took another breath, swallowing this time.

“You’re a great guy. One of the best men I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Last night... I don’t know what came over me. I’m usually not so aggressive, especially sexually, and I’m sorry for coming at you like some sort of deranged animal in heat. It wasn’t right and I promise you it’ll never happen again. I know all hope for the two of us being as close as we were is out the window. And I don’t blame you for that, by the way. It’s my fault and I take full responsibility. I just hope, that maybe, in time you’ll be able to forgive me and I can move on from feeling like this. I promise you I’ll get over it, I just need a little time but until then I was hoping we could at least remain friends. I know that’s a lot to ask but I don’t really think I could handle if things continued like this with you ignoring me completely. I know I’m probably being overly sensitive right now but it just... hurts....” you trailed off. Nebraska hadn’t said a word, his body frozen in that spot while his mind raced to process everything you’d just told him.

“Are you finished?” His voice was low, rugged.

“.... yeah, I guess I am,” he could hear the disappointment.

Nebraska walked up to you, cupping your jaw with hand as he captured your lips in his own. You eyes bulged out of your head in shock and for a second he though you were going to push him away.

“N-n-Nebraska I-“

“Shhhh. You got your chance to speak, now it’s my turn,” he returned to your lips, deepening the kiss. You moaned into his mouth as he lifted you onto the bathroom counter. His hands traveled under your skirt, gripping your thighs, undoubtedly his new favorite part of you. You let out a squeak of surprise when he suddenly pulled you flush against him.

“I’ve been agonizing over you since I met you. You think any man could be in proximity to all of this-“ he smacked your ass “and not want to break you in half? If you’re delusional then I’m in this fantasy right with you because I’ve been enamored with you for months. But you just seemed so disinterested I.... I couldn’t... I didn’t know...”

“Hey, it’s alright.” You cooed, cupping his face. He rest his forehead against your own, grateful for the intimacy.

“I just need you to know this isn’t one sided. You have nothing to apologize to me for, not now, not ever.” Nebraska wished he could say more. Wished he could articulate more coherently exactly how deep his feelings went for you. Wished he could express how you made him feel like he wasn’t such a monster, like he was worthy of his own personhood, even if he doubted it himself most times.

Nebraska opened his eyes to see you staring at his lips, the wanton look in your eyes making his cock throb. Yes he wanted to proclaim his undying love and affection for you but he also wanted to fuck you so good your pussy would need crutches the next day.

“C’mere,” he growled lowly and you almost bounced off the counter wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him. He could appreciate his position of standing between your thighs however he knew realistically he couldn’t fuck you right here in the bathroom. Not with the house damn near filled to capacity. No, he’d have to show a little more restraint for your sake and his own.

“And, Y/N, about last night...,” Nebraska said breaking the kiss. You hummed in reply as you began trailing kisses down his neck.

“How did you expect to give head like that and not have a man fall in love with you?”

~*~

A/N: What y’all think? Told y’all I was gonna give y’all some action if you stuck with me 😘😘 I hope y’all liked this chapter because I actually worked harder on this one than any other chapter so far. As always please let me know what y’all think, it really helps me get ideas for the next chapter. 💕💕🥰

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