Alpha Asher By Jane Doe

Chapter 131 – “What? I can’t do that. You have no idea what you’re asking me to do.” My surprise slowed my pace, and my legs groaned miserably as I pushed them harder, forcing us to keep up.

“They’ll want something in return, right?” She huffed, continuing without waiting for an answer. Her voice cracked, desperation bleeding through. “Don’t use them to k**l them, just to get us away a distraction or something that’ll help us get a head start. I assume you’ve got somewhere safe to go?”

“Good, because you’re taking me with you. I was safe and sound until you two busted into my dressing room–for the most part, anyway. What matters is I was out, and you two dragged me right back in.” I had no clue what she meant, and neither did Brandon from the confusion that creased his eyebrows and made his pace slow. “You have to use them to get us out of here, or we’re not going to live past tonight.”

Frustration crackled and spread throughout my chest like a sparkler, and even though I was sure it was my imagination, I swore I could feel the shadows waiting-eager to hear me ask for their help after months of ignoring their presence.

I skidded to a stop, spotting a couple dumpsters surrounded by a wooden privacy fence. It was meant to keep the rats and racoons away but judging from the scraps of trash piling up in the drainage ditches, it wasn’t working. Brandon grimaced from the smell but followed Clara and I into the small area without complaint.

I no longer had to try; the darkness was apart of me as much as my Vampire side. The ability to control the shadows would never be a good one it would never be one of pure intention or without temptation. There was always that knowledge that anything–anything I wanted was within arm’s reach. All I had to do was pay the price.

I felt their cold wash over me first but gave them no reaction. Clara shuddered, and the shadows hidden within every corner of the alley and trash area we stood in writhed. A thousand voices, a thousand razor blades slashing across the gritty surface of a chalkboard, all coalescing together into one ear-piercing voice.

‘…now you call on us…’ ‘…to free you from danger…’

‘…to vanquish the puppets that hunt you down…’

I paused, “puppets…why would you call them that?”

Brandon gave me an odd look, and Clara began to before she looked down. Anyone could see the shadows. It was something I realized a long time ago, back when Mason’s mate had lost her life to a deal I’d made. Only the Vampire monarch could use them–haggle with them, but anyone could see them. Tristan had claimed that working with my father, always being in such close proximity to them, over time he found himself able to see them. The same had happened for Breyona and Asher, even though I hadn’t called on them since.

‘…the puppet master pulls the strings…’ ‘…meddles with fate…’

‘…hides from us…’

hiding from the shadows.

us from the elemental witches long enough to get a car, and get the h**l out of here?” I asked, knowing

little slivers of information to tempt, to entice me into making another deal. It

price is blood…blood from the alpha’s

temporarily

at Brandon, “they

not getting my blood.” He shook his head; his voice left

blood. Since there was no direct lighting on it, the thick

the ground. He dipped his head and instantly jerked

shadow, each taking their turn as they slithered through the puddle of blood on the pavement, taking more and more with each

your end of the

partially green in the face as I left wound after wound on his wrists. Thanks to our advanced healing, I had to reopen the slashes

of his blood, leaving the pavement cleaner than it had been before. They were bloated as they circled our feet, fulfilling their end of the bargain with whatever

ice water, but worse.” Clara’s teeth chattered,

my head ached with a pain similar to brain freeze. Suddenly, the colors around us faded, becoming muted and washed out. The green of the dumpster

at the last minute. I realized

could make out was the curve of their chins, and how their physiques appeared thin

and slapped a hand to her lips, pulled out

the witches spoke in a soft soprano, which felt completely out of place

was raspier, but still noticeably

second replied sourly, ‘…she said this would

a tiny flame sprout from her palm. It flickered and crackled in the night, casting a little golden halo

the feeling hit me like a freight train. There was no