Asher From All American Novels & Stories

“The real Asher doesn’t exist anymore. The only woman I care about is Aaliyah, not this pathetic—” “You’re being an idiot!” Corey snapped, cutting him off. “Aaliyah’s manipulating you, and you’re too blind to see it! You’re her puppet, Asher!” At the mention of Aaliyah, Asher’s entire demeanor shifted. His body coiled, and before I could even react, he lunged at Corey. The sound of the first punch echoed in the night, followed quickly by another. Asher’s fists flew with brutal precision, each strike landing with bone-crunching force.

Driver guy looked amused again, "Well, would you like to introduce yourself first, or shall we?" He seemed to have something of an air of authority to him, like the other two let him take the lead naturally. He was also the tallest, and bulkiest of the three, though they were all easily over six foot and heavily built, with well-defined muscles. She smiled awkwardly, "Uh.. well, I'm Ashallia," she said quietly, her nervousness coming through in her voice, "Most just call me Ash or Asha, though."

"Rhea, stop! You're becoming the monster they said you were!" Ash’s voice cut through the roar of the fire. He was at the edge of the clearing, his massive black wolf form shifting back into a man. He was covered in blood—witch blood and his own—his golden eyes wide with a horror that Rhea felt in the deepest part of her marrow. Beside him, Zane, Kai, and Blaze stood frozen, their faces pale in the sickly silver light.

I squeezed my eyes shut as if that could erase the last ten seconds from my retinas. A tiny, bitter part of me, the part that hadn’t slept properly in weeks, wanted to be pissed. Everyone else is fucking everyone else, it hissed, while I’m out here collecting conspiracy theories and body counts. The front door creaked open a moment later and Ashley stood there, wrapped in a fluffy white robe tied so tight it looked like a straightjacket. Her face was the color of a stop sign. “Allison? Jesus, you gave me a heart attack!” she breathed, one hand clutching her chest.

Arabella’s POV Asher fell to the ground before my very own eyes. He was meant to duck and take cover, just in time for me to hit Alpha Nick with a bolt but Nick was a strong man. He was also a smart man as well. He ducked instead and left the paralyzed Asher to stand there. The lightning scratched off Asher's shirt, penetrated his body and came out from the other side of his shoulder. I screamed. “Asher!!!!!!!!” Time froze and for some minutes I could hear Asher’s breath. He breathed his last and then his body became still.

Asher flash one of his well-practiced soulless business smiles. Jackson Brown is Asher's only friend and business partner, one of the few people he's allowed into his life, the few he can almost be himself with. Jackson is a tall, dark-skinned African-American, with sharp handsome features, and a fun, lively character, the complete opposite of Asher. They met while in college and had stayed friends ever since. "Your morning that bad?" Jackson asked, he'd never seen Asher so bleary-eyed so early in the day.

He confronts Damon, his voice laced with incredulity and contempt. "How dare you, Damon? How the hell could you stoop so low?" Asher's voice trembles with a mix of anger and disbelief. His eyes bore into his brother's, radiating a profound sense of disappointment and disgust. In that moment, Damon is reduced to a reviled creature, akin to a repugnant slug slithering along a rain-soaked footpath.

Most people had already forgotten what she looked like. If Sheila appeared as Yara, no one would have reason to suspect her. Once everything was arranged, the two of them booked flights to Aster City together. On the plane, Cassius looked at Sheila's face. After the subtle changes she had made to her appearance, she looked different enough that few people would recognize her. He let out a quiet sigh. "Sheila..." He smiled faintly. "No. I guess I should start calling you Yara. "You've sacrificed so much just to get revenge. Do you think you'll ever regret it?"

Her strength was startling, fueled by panic and the residual poison of the feral wolf’s corruption. “The wolf— its eyes!” She gasped, her chest heaving. Her gaze darted around the tent, landing on Mira, on Alex, on the familiar hides and herbs, but the terror didn’t leave her eyes. “It’s dead.” I said firmly, holding her gaze, pouring every ounce of my Alpha-born authority into my voice. “You’re safe. You’re in camp.” The fight seemed to drain out of her. She slumped back onto the cot, her breath still ragged. “It wasn’t… natural, Ash. It was like fighting a storm. No mind. Just… hunger and hate.”