Chapter 32

Ren's throat closed up. His air was cut off for a second time, but it wasn't just because of how close Ashton was. It was the deepening of his voice. The rumble and the hint of deviance that made the arousal flare up in Ren's gut. His stomach quaked and his breath hitched. Ashton's hands were locked onto him and for a second, he wished that he had the guts to turn around and take what he'd been thinking about for a while.

He was afraid though. He couldn't even think it because then it would be too real. He'd be giving in to that dark thing that wanted so much of him that there would be no Ren Cornelli left.

A cat and mouse game. It wasn't just his imagination. That's really what Ashton had said.

Ren grabbed Ashton's wrist. Another second passed and he was frozen with his fingers tightly wound around Ashton's hand. The pad's of his fingers sunk deep into his wrist, not wanting to let go. Even this small amount of touching was too much for Ren's racing heart. He felt he was going to pass out from all the erupting feelings inside of him.

That prolonged second was already burned into his memory. The smell of Ashton, the feel of his body—his warmth, and the tickle of his breath on Ren's neck. He couldn't do this. He needed to get out of there before he did something he deeply regretted.

But his body wasn't moving anymore.

And then—like a switch had been flipped—he came out of it.

He saw the color red not because of his anger. It was the color of lust that flooded his vision. It had taken over him once more and it was a lost of power that flipped his stomach around and around. He pulled out of Ashton's embrace. He leaned over, his hands braced on his slightly bent knees, and he panted. His mind was swirling, all rays of colors and emotions filtering through him.

Ashton placed his hand to Ren's shoulder blade. Ren hunched away. His eyes automatically closing as he grimaced.

Ashton didn't press. His touch was faint, barely felt through the layers of clothes Ren had on, but even still, Ren could feel him all around him. He couldn't escape from the feelings that were hurling from Ashton to him. He was a furnace of emotions. They were dripping off him.

Ren didn't know why it was worse now. It had been fine before. The emotions he felt when the school had been bombarded with protests had been bad, but this felt so much worse. It was like Ashton was right inside of his head. He was screaming through a megaphone and he was only getting louder.

Ashton hesitated. Ren could feel that too. He could feel it like he was the one hesitating and also feel it because it wasn't him. It was confusing all around—like his hand had gone numb and it was him that was actually touching his back.

"Are you sick?"

Ren squeezed his eyes close harder. "It's nothing."

It was a bold-face lie. Ashton must have heard how fake it was. He didn't rough house Ren anymore.

That was far worse.

Ashton's hand moved and Ren's chest wasn't so tight anymore. However, his eyes flew open when Ashton's hand instead pressed softly to the nape of Ren's neck.

"We can go back." Ashton's voice was too soft. It wasn't like the Mantel at all.

It felt like a trap. Ren stared at the ground. The pounding in his head wasn't gone and the sickness in his stomach had only gotten worse. The touch on his neck should have made both of those things worse.

They didn't.

It actually fucking helped.

Ren swallowed the large lump in his throat. He straightened, pulling away from Ashton's touch.

When he saw Ashton's face, his gut clenched even more.

He wasn't himself was Ren's first thought. There was no way that Ashton had been in his right mind when he'd been kind to Ren. But the look on Ashton's face made it more evident that there was something wrong.

He looked concerned.

It was there. Ren was seeing it with his own eyes.

But Ashton must have seen how bewildered Ren was. He turned away, wiping his face, and the next time he looked at Ren, he was wearing a deep frown.

His eyes weren't red this time. They were, however, rimmed red. He looked far older than he was—like he'd seen so many things that no one should have to see in their lifetimes. It wasn't just the murder that Ren could see reflected back in those dark eyes. He saw trauma that he knew Ashton would never tell him. He saw things that he couldn't imagine and he didn't want to.

Ashton ran his hand over his face. He stared down at Ren. That stare pierced Ren like a stake. He felt the tip of it wedge itself between his ribs and force itself out his back through his shoulder blades. The pain bloomed like a moonflower under a full moon. As beautiful as Ashton was, he was poisonous. He was the kind of poison that tasted sweet, but at the very last second—the moment you knew you were going to die—it turned bitter.

"Go then."

Ashton waited. He stood there, the wind blowing through his hair and ruffling his coat. He looked back at Ren as if there wasn't anything wrong with the situation.

He shouldn't. He should go, chase after the Hunters because he was more fit to do this than Ren was.

Ren was going to turn. He was going to walk away. That was what he'd wanted anyway. Ashton was letting him go for now. Until the next time Ashton wanted to drag Ren through the mud so he didn't have to do all the work by himself.

But the universe hated him. His body hated him too because instead of turning around like his feet should be doing at that very second, he just stood there.

Ashton's words cut deeper than he ever thought could be possible. Yeah, Ashton was a dickhead and he was the biggest asshole that he had been forced to spend copious amounts of time with, but he wasn't the biggest douche in the world. That was reserved for the Regans of the world.

The sliver of kindness he'd shown Ren had felt odd and so right at the same time. He couldn't let himself believe that any of that was real.

"I'm fine," he choked out. He chewed on the inside of his lip as he looked past Ashton and toward the path the Hunters had disappeared on.

"We're going to lose them."

He didn't look at Ashton after that. He couldn't bring himself to see the deep frown on his face or the ice cold sharpness in his eyes.

This was just something he had to deal with. They weren't friends. They weren't anything. And anything that looked like kindness was just another form of manipulation.

The sun was close to setting when they finally caught up to the Hunters. They were bickering again about something that Ren couldn't pick up on. Ashton wrinkled his nose as if he could hear them.

Ren raised a brow. Ashton shook his head.

They stood at the top of a slope that was high above where the Hunters were. The slope went up just a bit so that Ren and Ashton had some covering. It was a good thing that it had gotten dark because otherwise they might have been at a greater risk of being seen. Thankfully, the Hunters were too focused on finding the Hell Hounds than they were on being tracked by two teenage vampires.

Ren crouched by the slope and watched the Hunters. He was slightly amused by them, especially the Kenny guy. He was very expressive with his hands. He was a complete idiot by the looks of it. Typical of a guy that only wanted to be a Hunter so he could kill something.

It reminded Ren a lot of hunters that shot for sport. Nothing like killing something for the fun of it.

Ashton decided to stand and watch. He was completely still.

Ren didn't know how he did it. He was bursting with energy. It was thrumming through him like he was hooked up to a live wire. He rapidly tapped his cold fingers to his knee. He was ready for something to happen though at the same time he was dreading it.

He turned his head just slightly in Ashton's direction, but his eyes were still locked on the three Hunters.

"So, what was your plan again?"

Cat and mouse. He remembered what he'd called it. It was just that it didn't actually mean anything.

Ashton had his hands in his pockets. He cocked his head as if he wanted to look down at Ren but had thought better of it. He watched the Hunters down below with a glazed look. Ren saw just that before he quickly adverted his own eyes so that Ashton wouldn't see him staring.

It wasn't exactly Ashton that he had to worry about. He had to worry about his own stupid body. It was starting to mess with his head.

"The Hunters are the mice," he slowly said. He pronounced each word as if he was testing them out for the first time. "The Hounds are the cats. The Hunters draw the Hounds out and we take advantage of the chaos."

A beat of silence fell between them.

The forest floor was cold and damp. His shoes and socks were soaked with the moisture. Each movement made it more obvious how uncomfortable he was. But he tried to keep as steady as he could while he was crouching. Fear prickled at the back of his neck just as Ashton's breath had done.

Chaos. It described so much of Ashton, yet, it was the complete opposite of him. Ren couldn't get a grasp of who he really was nor did he really want to. Of course, there was some part of him—he would have said human but he wasn't—that was curious. The fear won out the war between the conflicting feelings. It was always the fear that won.

Or more lately, the anger.

On the outside, Ashton was everything that Ren wasn't. He was elegant, collected, and eye-catching. It wasn't just that he was a vampire or that he was a Mantel. Even if he visited the country where vampires ruled—Sangui—he would stand out. Ren wasn't blind. He knew Ashton was good looking, but most vampires were. It was basically in their genetic makeup to be good looking.

Well, full vampires anyway.

It seemed in his makeup he'd carried on a lot more witch.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

The Hunters were back to arguing. It broke the silence. Birds that had been hiding in the trees, flew away from the ruckus. Ren's gaze was captured by them. He'd never wanted to have wings his entire life until then.

He remembered Ashton's eyes. The chaos had been in them. It wasn't just something he felt. Ren had picked up on Ashton's chaotic emotions that felt like they were building up to something more extreme. He saw them when they had looked at each other—when Ashton had touched his nape. He hadn't known what it was, but now he knew.

A monster hiding in sheep's clothing. Ren couldn't forget that.

"Fuck! They're here!"

Ren was yanked out of his stupor as the Hunters scrambled back. He went rigid as the Hunters pulled out their weapons.

Guns. Silver pistols that seemed to be taken straight out of an action movie. They gleamed even in the foggy sunlight.

Ren went to stand up, but he was stopped by Ashton's hand.

"Don't move."

Ren felt the Hounds before he saw them.

They were pounding in his head—the rage and the need for destruction.

He slowly turned his head.

And then he saw them.