Cassie Alexander - Deadshifted

“The thing is, there was a time, when I was young—when I did stupid things. When I didn’t care about the consequences, or who I hurt.”

“You mean like every kid, ever.” I knew his prior shapeshifting abilities lent themselves to spying and corporate espionage. And when he’d been working under the assumption that he’d soon be dead or insane—the fate of all shapeshifters eventually—what was the point in having a conscience?

He shook his head, unwilling to let himself off the hook. “Older than that. Old enough to know better. It’s complicated—” he said, and then there was another long pause.

“There’s nothing you can say that’s going to scare me away from you.” I nudged him again with my shoulder. “So spit it out.”

“He hired me to acquire some data for him,” Asher said, still looking at the ground.

“You mean steal?” I didn’t want him to lie to me—or to feel like he had to anymore.

Asher sighed. “Technically, yes.”

“About?” I prompted.

“Synthetic blood.”

I almost rolled my eyes. “What’s so bad about that? There’s a huge market for it. Whoever figures it out is going to make a jillion dollars.”

“But not many research groups are being underwritten by vampires. Or doing drug trials on unwitting human subjects in countries with no patient protection laws.”

That shut me up. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Asher agreed, then sighed again.

“And he’s here? Like just on board?”

“Apparently.”

My brows furrowed in thought. “Did his research succeed? It can’t have, otherwise we’d be knee-deep in vampires and living in caves.”

“No—I reported him. To the Consortium.” Asher twisted his lips sideways, still looking at the floor. “I reported him after his check cashed. I knew he was evil—I touched him, Edie, I knew who he was, and what he was doing—and I waited a week to make sure his money was good. Plus—” Here Asher’s voice drifted, and he shook his head again. “I didn’t want him to know it was me. It’s not like I had any protection, or a private army.”

“What happened next?”

“I don’t know. I checked up on him after that—at first, all the time. I was waiting to see an obituary. When that didn’t happen, I checked less. Honestly, I thought they’d wiped him off the map. But eventually he resurfaced, his name on a few medical patents that were genetically based, back when that was really starting to break out. He must have made millions on some of them.”

“So the Consortium didn’t do anything to stop him?”

“I don’t know. You don’t get to ask the Consortium about things like that. You don’t even want to know what I had to do to get in touch with them. They want you to think they’re always paying attention, but they’re not.”

The Consortium was some sort of loose governing group for paranormal creatures. I’d only ever met one of their members, when it’d briefly taken up home in my old charge nurse to reprimand us after a war.

Now I was staring at the carpet too. There were a hundred different questions I wanted to ask him, but only one that really mattered now. “Does he know this version of you?”

This Asher was the one Santa Muerte had given me when she’d saved his life. Sandy-blond hair, blue eyes, and lips that quirked up at the corners half a second before he smiled.

Asher finally turned toward me and gave me a bemused look. “No. No one else knows this me but you, our neighbors back home, and your silly Siamese cat.”

I gave him a hopeful grin. “She’s cross-eyed. She has no idea what you really look like.” He forced a smile back.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. His prior abilities—what I called the strange, in my mind—limited as they now were, still affected us, usually at intervals just long enough apart for me to forget that he had them. He’d change into looking like Hector the Doctor for work, and we’d take separate trains in, and then at work we’d pretend to be coworkers. After the first few illicit-seeming months, it hadn’t really been that hard. The shapeshifting itself wasn’t the strange part—it was all the other things. Instances when he’d made us leave diners after he’d recognized someone back in the kitchen, or him changing banks after a merger. Once he’d gotten out of a speeding ticket by reminding a cop about taking a bribe. As much as, like any girlfriend, I’d wanted to pry into Asher’s past—pasts, even, heavy emphasis on the plural—I hadn’t. Moments like this were why.

I wished I could open the doors to our room’s balcony, let in the sea air, and let it chase out the strange. Every time I thought I’d gotten used to it, I realized I hadn’t really—I’d just gotten used to hoping the bulk of it was behind us. Sitting beside him, though, I realized there was no way we’d ever completely outrun it. It was who he was, who he’d been. It followed him wherever he went, like a tail. And right now he looked so alone. I squeezed his hand harder.

“Well, everything’s okay now,” I said, with the same comforting tone I used on patients all the time.

“You can’t just let me off the hook, Edie.”

“Why not? It sounds like you’ve been carrying this around long enough.”

“He’s not the only person I worked for. None of the rest were as bad as he was—but there’s a four-way tie for second place. And you don’t want to know how many people are in the running for third.” He carefully took my hand off his and released it back to me. “As evil as I know he was, what he was working on—with data I gave him—I can’t help but wonder what working with him once makes me.”

I took his hand back fiercely. “It makes you someone who changed. That’s not a bad thing. I love you.” Suddenly I didn’t want him to tell me anything else about his past. It was behind us, and it could stay there, forever, where it couldn’t hurt us ever again.

He swallowed and stared down at my hand, covering his. “I know you love me. But sometimes I think back on all the things I’ve done, and I can’t see why.”

This wasn’t the brash devil-may-care Asher I usually knew. I leaned up and kissed his forehead, where wrinkles were starting to show. “I can’t speak to all those other Ashers. But the one I love saved my life a few times, and he takes care of people who need him. I love him quite a lot.”

A soft smile took the edge off his serious face. “I love you, Edie.”

“Not to mention, he brought me on this excellent vacation,” I went on.

He gave me a wry look. “I thought you weren’t completely sold on the ocean?”

I elbowed him. “I’m trying to make you feel better. Stop making it hard.”

He laughed, turning toward me and taking me in his arms.

Sex was always easy with Asher.

Being with him had always been the kind of hot trouble that normally only strangers can get into, the fearless kind that makes you demanding and loud, both people fighting to take control, neither stopping until they’d been satisfied.

And this time was no different. Arms still around me, Asher’s mouth found mine at the same time his hands reached for the button of my jeans.

Just like that, I was ravenous for him as well. Mouths dueling, I returned his kiss with aggression, as he growled low in his throat.

My hands yanked off his shirt, reveling in the feel of his skin against mine, soft and warm, rippling over muscles. I ran my hands down his tightly muscled back and down into his jeans, pulling him close. At the feel of my hands, he shuddered and broke our contact, pulling back to free himself from his clothes, and then to pull my clothes off me.