Ash In Our Blood Novels & Stories

Instead of Cole coming to get me, an avalanche arrived first. I ran. The icy wind knifed down my throat in greedy bursts. My lungs burned with every gasp. As time passed, all I could hear was the pounding of my own heartbeat. My numb legs moved on autopilot. Then, I stumbled and crashed to the ground. The roar behind me grew louder and louder. I watched helplessly as the wall of snow swallowed me whole. Right before I blacked out, I told myself that if I somehow survived this, I would be done with Cole. I wouldn't want him anymore.

"I'll have him rip your heart out! I'll have him execute you in front of the whole pack!" I wiped the blood from the pin and fixed it back in my hair. "Do your worst."

The warehouse smelled like gasoline, stale cigarettes, and testosterone—the kind of place where OSHA went to die. Asher leaned against a customized Harley, his bandaged arm in a sling, looking unfairly seductive despite the fact that he was currently being a brooding prick. “It’s not oil, princess. It’s high-octane fuel. And trust me, I have much more creative things in mind for your body than dumping it.”

He's clearly not happy about it, his face etched with concern, but he does as I ask, turning his back to me to watch the hallway. Taking a deep breath, I splayed my hands into the thick, cold goo on the ground, the sensation chilling, and focused on reading the last memory. I prepared myself for an onslaught of memories, a chaotic jumble, since Asher preferred not just one blood group, but a combination of them, his family having his blood specially mixed and shipped out to him. There shouldn't be just one person’s memory, but many, a mosaic of lives. Yet there was.

When my ex-boyfriend Harry Thorne went bankrupt, his family forced him into an arranged marriage to save their sinking business. I handed him an abortion record and vanished without a trace. Five years later, we crossed paths again. He tossed a stack of a hundred grand in front of me, telling me to get into his bed on my own accord. I complied. In the heat of his breathless, passionate kisses, I fell under the fleeting illusion that he still loved me. That was till his fingers brushed against the scar on my lower abdomen, and he shoved me to the floor in a fit of rage. “You left me for money, and now you come back wagging your tail, groveling for the exact same thing? How shameless can you b

I snapped, pushing past her to open the window wider. “Asphyxia. That's the medical term that covers the entire…concept of suffocation. Just so you know, you know. But it's not like I was trying to kill you, or me. We're too young, and I'm incapable of murder, you know that. I've only ever killed geckos since I was born…” She rambled, trailing off when she saw my death stare. I admit, I was more pissed at the fact that her charred whatever woke me up from my dream. I wished I heard everything my father had to say, but unfortunately, I got woken up abruptly.

Instead, he seemed to be watching the forest with an unusual stillness, as though listening for something that did not belong to the present moment. When she sat beside him, he did not look surprised. “You found her name,” he said quietly. Aisha did not deny it. “Yes,” she replied. Arman nodded once, as though that confirmation was enough. “She used to bring marigolds,” he said after a moment. Aisha felt a subtle shift in her attention. “Marigolds?” He nodded again. “She said they helped people remember warmth. She would place them near the window so the light would touch them first.”

I had no answer. She let me go. Her gaze shifted to the urn in my arms. "You won't take this when it's offered? Then I am taking it from you. "You will not see your father's ashes again." She reached. The blood in my arms went cold. The control I had been holding cracked. "Please… please don't. It wasn't me. I'll do anything, anything you want. Just don't." I was about to fall to my knees again. I would have. The pride and dignity I'd had walking in here had been gone for hours.

The Bloods could handle what was left of them. "All the packhouse workers, return with me to the west forest and let us wait there; no Moon must speak of me or what we have done here, for it is not yet time to emerge!" Ashria ordered. "On no account should any moon hint the blood that I am here. If you do, I will put out your light!" Ashria said, and for some strange reason, I could feel their lights individually, and it would be easy to put them out. They howled in worship, and I howled in response. Their spirits were lifted.

I already know he was going to deliver one hell bloody Mary news. “They are all dying. As soon as they crossed our borders they started dying, choking on their blood.” Asher’s voice was panicked and scared. “What the fuck you are high on?” I hushed my voice so that no one can listen to me. this better have to be some kind of sick joke.