Chapter 6 (Part 1): When the Dark Breaks

Asher DravenHart

Sleep didn't come gently.

It never did. Not since I was old enough to understand what it meant to have a pack, let alone lead one.  Not since grief had taught my body how to rest with one eye open.

The first time I had learned that was the night we were rushing home with my mother in the bed of the truck,

She'd been the last Luna we had for the pack, and she had died on these floors with my father's hands around hers and my name stuck in her throat like a prayer she couldn't finish. When the rogue clan attacked, there hadn't been enough peace left to pretend that she had simply passed on. There was only the brutal clarity that kindness and leadership didn't save you alone, strength did. 

We cremated her at dawn.

The air smelled like smoke, wet pine, and mourning that clung to the back of my tongue. My father didn't speak for hours. He just stood there, staring at the ashes like he could order them to breathe again. 

Later the others, while I grieved on my own, took her ashes and mixed them into resin and cedar shavings, pressed it with silver threads and carved old runes. They made that same box that now sits on the edge of my desk, holding the last thing that my mother gave me. The token.

My father couldn't lock it away, and after he was gone, I couldn't either.

It was a reminder of what happens when you aren't strong enough.

A reminder of what happened when you are... and it still isn't enough.

My father tried after her death. He had tried to be an Alpha, a widower, and a grieving mate all at once. He had tried to lead with eyes that looked through people instead of just at them. The pack watched him crumble in slow motion. The elders whispered about "duty" and "continuity" while he stopped eating, stopped sleeping. Literally he stopped living. 

Depression didn't kill him in one night.

It hunted him. In the same way that the Rogue's hunted my mother. Patient. Relentless. Unglamorous.

When he finally took his own life, it wasn't in dramatic fashion, it was just... quiet.

Too quiet.

And I was left, alone, to pick up a title that weighted more than my bones were old enough to carry.

I took of the Stormfang Pack young, very young, and the ridiculed me for it. Not all of them, but enough. Enough to make the halls feel narrower.

"Too young," They would say behind my back.

"Not ready."

"His father should have named someone else."

"A stronger choice."

"A better choice."

They all looked at me and saw just a boy wearing his father's shadow.

So I made myself into something they couldn't just dismiss.

I trained.

I trained until my hands split, my lungs burned. I leanred every old rule and every new weakness. I swallowed insults until thats the only thing I could taste, then rebuttaled with results. I fought for my place, again and again, until even the loudest doubters learned to lower their eyes when I passed.

I had to prove I was strong enough.

Because the pack doesn't forgive weakness.

And it never forgets blood.

That was why I slept lightly. Why my dreams were never peaceful. Why even exhaustion came with teeth bared.

Tonight was no different. 

I was running. Through what I thought was snow. When I looked down, I finally realized I was running through ashes beneath a sky split by clouds that churned like bruises. The trees were too tall, too close. Their branches twisted like black veins and every shadow felt alive.

"Asher..."

Someone called my name. Soft and trembling. A sound that didn't belong in nightmares but somehow made this one worse because it sounded real enough. It sounded like her.

"ASHER."

My name again. This time low, rough. A growl that shaped the word. 

Nero.

The two voices overlapped, pulling me in opposite directions. One fear, the other instinct. One begged, the other commanded.

"Asher...?" The soft voice quivered again, closer now, like it was being swallowed by the dark.

I felt Nero's presence as it began to swell in my chest, heavy and hot. His snarl vibrated through my skull like teeth scraping bone.

"ASHER. WAKE UP. Your mate is calling. She needs you."

The word mate struck like a bell.

My eyes snapped open. 

For half a second, the trees were still there, lingering. Only my heart was hammering and my skin had gone cold. Then the room resolved, took over. Black wood, heavy curtains, the faint glowing embers, the outline of the bed.

And her voice. Her real voice. Trembling.

And it cut through everything.

"Asher...?"

Fear dripped from the word like blood.

I shot upright so face the couch creaked and complained, my feet already finding the floor. Nero surged up with me, protective fury waking with claws at the ready.

A low growl crawled up my throat. Heat rushed behind my eyes.

Gold bled into my vision.

The darkness of the room faded as my senses sharpened. Every scent, every sound, every heartbeat was suddenly loud. Her's was the loudest. Fast. Panicked. Trembling like a trapped bird. 

I turned and saw her sitting up in the bed, blankets gathered around her, her hair now damp at her temples. Moonlight cut across her face and sparkled on wet lashes.

She was crying.

That sight hit harder than any nightmare.

Nero snarled again, finally pleased to have a reason to be him.

"Protect..."

"Not like this," I warned him silently, snapping the leash tight, "She is scared." 

I shoved im down with a breath that felt like I was breathing lava and blinked until the gold somewhat retreated back to brown. My hands were steady when I reached for the lamp.

Click.

Light flooded the room, chasing shadows into corners. 

Savannah flinched at the sudden brightness, but she didn't look away from me. Her cheeks were flushed, but not like before. Her eyes wide and glassy with tears tracking down and disappearing off her face and splashing onto the blanket.

I moved toward the bed slowly, carefully. Deliberate. Not wanting to startle her more than she already was. I climbed onto the mattress with a quiet weight, stopping a respectful distance away.

"Savannah. Hey." I said gently, "I'm here. Are you alright?"

Her throat bobbed as she shook her head.

No.

The word she couldn't say sat heavy between us.

My jaw tightened, not with anger. I could never be angry at her. But with helplessness. I hated nightmares. Hated that I couldn't kill them in a way that I could kill a rogue. Hated what they stole.

"Did you have a nightmare? A bad dream?" I asked.

She nodded once. Quick. Miserable. Then wiped at her face like she was annoyed with her own tears.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my posture pen. My hands rested on my thighs so she could see them. So she could see that I meant no harm. So she could see that I wasn't going to reach unless she allowed me to. 

"I'll stay right here." I told her. "All night if I have to. In order to make sure that you are okay."

The words were plain, but I meant them like vows.

Svannah's shoulders trembled as she nodded. She sniffled hard, then wiggled backward, down, and burrowed under the blankets like she could hide from her own mind. 

I stayed where I sat, watching her breathing slow and even out. Watching her eyelips droop. Watching the tension in her jaw loosen by degrees, like she was forcing herself to trust me, trust the moment.

Minutes passed.

Her breaths grew deeper and her fingers stopped gripping the blanket like a lifeline.

When I was almost certain she was asleep, or close enough that the fear finally loosened its grip, I reached back and turned off the lamp again.

Click.

Darkness returned again, moonlight softening the edges. 

Instead of going back to the couch, I lowered myself to the floor next to the bed, leaning my back against the mattress. The edge pressed firmly against my shoulder blades. I was close enough that if she'd feel the need to reach for me, I would be there but far enough that she still had her space. 

My knees bent, feet flat on the rug. I leaned my head back against the soft silk sheets and stared at the ceiling and just listened. 

The wind whipped around outside.

The slow creaks and groans of the house settling.

The quiet, yet fragile rhythm of her breathing.

It felt like the night might continue without any other incident. 

"Asher..." 

Savannah's voice came again, small and shaky. 

I didn't move at first, just slowly exhaled. 

I leaned my head back against the mattress, tilting it so I could look up at her, upside down. Her face hovered above mine, pale in the dark, eyes wide and glistening.

"Yes?" I softly asked.

She hiccuped, a broken little sound.

"I'm sorry..."

I smiled up at her. It was a useless apology. A human instinct to make herself smaller so she could not be hurt by the world anymore.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, little one." I said immediately. 

She stared down at me, breathing a little uneven. 

"Close your eyes, little one. Get some sleep." 

She nodded and scooted back out of my line of sight. I was about to shut mine when hers came back into view.

"Asher..." 

I kept my eyes on hers.

"I'm here, Savannah."

Her cheeks were still warm, even in the dark. I could smell her. The faint lace sweetness of the new fabric I brought up for her. The sharper scent of fear slowly fading and being over taken by her scent. Vanilla and rose.

"Would you..." she whispered, "Would you mind getting into the bed? Just..."

"Just so you feel safe." I thought to myself.

She didn't need to say those words out loud. I already knew.

Nero surged at her request. Hungry. Pleased.

"YES. NOW. MINE." 

Heat flashed in my skull and I clenched my jaw so tight it ached.

"You have no concept of manners do you, Nero?" I chastised him, "She is scared. We will ask. And ONLY act upon if she really wants this. If she truly means it."

His response was only a low, but long growl.

"Are you sure that is what you want?" I assked, keeping my voice calm.

Savannah nodded sheepishly, not really meeting my gaze. Even in the darkness, I could see when her cheeks deepend in pink. 

"Yes..." she whispered, biting her lip, "Just... until I fall asleep."

I smiled again at her and pushed myself up, grunting with effort. I moved with deliberate gentleness so I wouldn't startle her. I pulled the blankets back just enough to where I could slip into the far side, leaving her space while giving her the choice if she wanted to close it.

I lifted an arm, a silent offer.

She hesitated, but only for a moment, before she slinked over, inching toward me like she was afraid I would disappear. Her breath hitched, then she pressed closer, warmth seeping into the bed between us. I took my arm that was around her and gently drew her closer to me.

She stiffened, every muscle tightening, every breath caught in her chest. She was waiting for the trap, the catch. The cost of being close to me.

There wasn't one.

I just stayed after pulling her close, let my arm loosely hang around her shoulders. Once she settled in, I lifted the hand that was around her shoulders and slowly drew small circles on her back. I took my free hand and softly stroked her cheek, wiping away her tears. I caressed her cheek before threading my fingers in her hair. Not tugging, just smoothing, combing. The way you would soothe someone you didn't want to frighten.

Her shoulders dropped slightly.

Another pass of my fingers, and her breathing started to steady.

Again, and the tension in her spine slowly eased, which caused her to nuzzle my chest as she found a comfy position.

A small sound left her. Half sigh. Half surrender, when she finally relaxed fully, her head settling onto my chest.I felt the warmth from her cheek through my shirt and with my hand splayed out on her back, felt her heartbeat slowly go from panic to exhaustion.

Nero purred, satisfied.

"Good," He rumbled, "Keep her close."

I stared into the darkness above us, just staring at the ceiling, listening. To the wind whiping outside, to the crackling of the dying embers, and to the soft "hmms" that eminated from her as she breathed in soft rhythms.

And when Savannah slipped into a deep, heavy sleep, her body slackened against mine, her fingers curling into my shirt like it anchored her...

... I stayed awake a little while longer. 

Because I had already learned what lurks in the darkness, Monsters. 

And they don't sleep.

Guardians don't.

And I refused, refused, to let the dark take another person I was meant to protect. 

The night didn't end so much as it thinned.

The embers in the hearth were dimmed to a low, patient glow. The wind outside softened to a hush, liek the storm had finally grown tired. Inch by inch the early morning light began to bleed through the edges of the heavy curtains. Pale and cold blue at first, then a little warmer, turning the dark wood of the room into shadowed shapes instead of lurking silhouettes.

And I still hadn't slept.

Not even for a moment.

I lay on my back, Savannah tucked against my chest, her breathing deep and even. True sleep. Not the shallow dozing she'd fought for earlier. My arm remained around her shoulders like a barrier, not tight but just there. A promise held in muscle and will.

Worry kept me awake.

Worry about her. About what the pack would say today. About the token and what it might decide. About the other packs, the old laws, the way tradition loved to twist and turn at change.

And under it all... quiet, dangerous contentment.

Because right now, in this stolen early morning, she was here.

Safe. Warm. Alive.

Savannah shifted in her sleep, pressing closer without waking. Her leg slid over mine, hooking in a lazy possessive way I didn't even know she could possess. My body stiffened instantly, my breath catching for the smallest of seconds. 

"Good." Nero purred.

I held still, willing my pulse to slow. Savannah didn't need to wake up by my tension.

She sighed softly and stretched, her spine lengthening against my side. One hand rose, searching and sleep heavy, and brushed against my chin with the back of her fingers. 

The touch was so gentle it barley registered as a pressure, but it still hit me like a spark. My throat rumbled with a soft growl.

Her lashes fluttered. Then her eyes snapped open.

Hazel, flecked with gold were wide for half a heartbeat. Confusion flashed across her face, then awareness crashed in, fast. 

She jerked back like my skin burned her.

"What..." she started, voice rough from sleep, then froze, taking in where she was, what had happened, how close she'd been.

"Nooooo. Stay, please..." Nero whined in my head, wounded.

I didn't move, or reach. I let her have the space she created, even as my chest tightened with her sudden absence.

"Morning." 

I gave her a small smile.

Savannah blinked. Her hair was a mess around her face, cheeks flushing with that familiar pink that I had started to enjoy seeing. She sat up and wrapped her armas round herself like she could hold her composure in place. 

"Did you sleep well?" I asked, keeping my voice light.

She nodded after a bit of hesitation.

"Yeah. Honestly, better." She said, biting her lip and blushing. 

"Good. That one word mattered more than any council vote." I thought to myself. 

I pushed up and out of my bed, carefully rolling away so I didn't jostle her. My body ached with exhaustion from being denied sleep, but I pushed it out and ignored it. My focus was on her sitting there on my crimson sheets wearing my band tee like it belonged to her. 

And to me, it did. Nero practically preened at the sight.

I crossed the room to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. I shifted some fabrics under my hands, soft, clean, until I found something that felt decent. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants, dark in color and hopefully would swallow her the way my shirt did, and tossed them to her.

She caught them awkwardly against her chest, her brows knitting.

"Um, what are these for?"

I chuckled before I could stop myself, the sound quiet in the morning hush. 

"I didn't think you would want to flaunt all you have when we decide to go down to breakfast."

Her face instantly went scarlet.

"Oh my... Asher!" she hissed, scandalized, clutching the sweats like they were a lifeline. 

I lifted my shoulder, amused despite myself.

"I'm just being practical. And honestly..." I turn back to her and leaned close, "I'd rather be the first one to see all that you have..."

Savannah muttered something under her breath, more than likely a threat, and quickly slid into the sweatpants under the hem of the shirt. She did it fast, tense, like she expected the fabric to betray her at any moment. When she stood, the tee fell back into place, now properly modest.

I smiled and shook my head, a soft huff of laughter escaping as I turned away from her. I reached for the bottom of my sleep shirt and pulled it over my head. The air hit my skin cold in comparison to the bed's warmth.

Behind me, Savannah made a tiny squeak. I didn't have to see her to know her face was scarlet or deeper.

I suppressed a smile and tossed the shirt onto the bed next to her. I reached ontop of the dresser and grabbed the lone sleeve I had laid out the night before. The familiar fabric settled over my shoulders like skin tight armor as I pushed my arms through the arm holes. I slowly started to button as I turned back around. When I glanced at her, Savannah had fully turned her head away, staring intensely at the nearest window like it contained the secrets of the universe. 

I sighed, equal parts amused and exhausted.

"Savannah."

She didn't look at me.

"What."

"Can I have you turn around please?" I asked, "I am going to take off my pants."

She coughs, caught off guard, her cheeks flushing even deeper.

"I am turned around."

She made an offended noise and spun on the bed so fast the blankets twirled underneath her.

"There. Happy?"

"Very." My tone calm and reached for my pants.

I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my sweatpants and pulled them down, stepping out of them smoothly.

Savannah Whitlock.

I was turned around.

I was being good.

I was staring out the window like it held the meaning of life and not just a bunch of gray blue dawn and trees dusted with snow.

And then... the glass betrayed me.

The early morning light turned the window into a mirror, just clear enough, and my eyes snagged on the reflection before my brain could stop them.

Asher.

Behind me. Moving with that quiet, unbothered confidence he seemed to live in.

He hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pulled them down like it was nothing. Like he wasn't a walking distraction. Like he wasn't... "Oh my Gods..." sculpted. 

I froze.

My breath did this humiliating trill and I slapped my hand over my mouth. My cheeks went hot so fasr it was like my body had a mind of it own. I should have looked away. I should have been mature.

I wasn't.

His back was broad, his muscles shifting smoothly underneath his shirt as he stepped out of the fabric. And then.... THEN the reflection caught the curve of him and my eyes went as big as dinner plates.

Finely sculpted didn't even cover it. There had to be a better word. He had the kind of ass that you would only see in commercials or on men who clearly do not eat carbs... or were carved out of marble. The kind that made mmy brain do a little dance and made my mouth dry out at the same time.

I bit my lip.

Hard. Trying to get the pain to reset my brain.

It didn't.

It just made everything worse.

"Stop looking. Stop looking. STOP LOOK..."

But my gaze stayed pinned for another second, fascinated and traitorous, before his form stopped moving.

My heart thudded.

His head turned slightly.

In the glass, I saw his eyes lift, dark and sharp, locking right onto my reflection.

Onto me.

My entire soul tred to leave my body.

I jerked my gaze up to the actual window as if I had been admiring the weather.

"Oh... wow... uh... morning light," I blurted out, voice cracking, "So... reflective."

Behind me, I heard a soft amused exhale.

"Asher," I said quickly, mortified, "I swear I wasn't..."

He turned fully around now. Not agressively or fast. Calm. Like he didn't just catch me gawking at his everything. His pants were on finally, one eyebrow faintly riased, mouth curved like he was trying to not smile and failing.

"Savannah..." he said, voice low and warm with amusement, "Did you like what you saw, little one?"

My face went so hot I was pretty sure steam was going to start rising off my skin.

"I... What?" I squeaked.

"You were staring." Asher said, as his smile deepened.

"I was not. Not at all. I wasn't staring." I lied instantly, horribly, while my blush raged like beacon.

His gaze flicked to my cheeks as if he could see the lie.

"mhmm." 

One sound of pure skepticism.

I groaned and covered my face with my hands.

"Oh my Gods. I hate you."

"I think that is highly unlikely," he said, and I could hear the grin in his voice.

I dropped my hands just enough to glare at him.

"I was looking out the window."

"And using it as a mirror." he replied smoothly.

"Stop being... like that."

I made a strangled noise.

"Being what? Noticing things?" He asked, still too calm, "Or asking questions?"

"Both!" I snapped, then immediately flopped onto the bed on my back, wanting to melt into the mattress and die.

Asher's amusement softened a fraction, and his tone shifted, still teasing, but gentler, like he didn't want to push my panic button again.

"I'm not upset, little one." he said, smiling, "I just wanted to know."

I glared at him, cheeks still burning, then forced myself to look at the ceiling with as much dignity as I could gather.

"I... don't know what you want me to say." I muttered.

"The truth is a good start." Asher said, his smile growing wider.

My throat went as dry as a desert. I swallowed, then sighed harshly through my nose.

"...Yeah." I admitted, my voice barely audiable, "I liked it. Happy?"