Alpha Asher by Jane

Read Alpha Asher [by Jane Doe] Chapter 91 – Three days, or possibly four–I wasn’t entirely sure, but the monotony of being locked in this room was slowly eating away at me. The silver cuff on my wrist kept me from mind-linking Asher, and kept Maya at bay. My skin under the cuff was sore, red and irritated as though I had a rash.

My days and nights began to switch, s******g with my already questionable sleeping pattern–not that I expected much sleep when my Father was somewhere lurking about. Tristan came to the door once every couple of hours, a tray of food and a small cup of blood in his hands. He needn’t worry that I might run, as I was already too weak from the constant contact with silver. I was practically human, making Tristan and the rest of the Vampire’s much stronger than me.

It was blatantly obvious the Vampire’s weren’t used to human or half-human guests, as the food was horribly lacking. Gelatinous oatmeal and often small packs of crackers or cookies. I wasn’t ashamed to say I downed the cup of blood he had given me at each meal, though it worried me where it might have come from.

Each day I’d ask Tristan when the Vampire King would finally see me, when would Breyona and Giovanni be released–each time he said ‘soon’, annoyingly cryptic. It gave me more than enough time to think over Tristan’s sudden loyalty switch. He had told me once that he had his own plans, that he never wished for the Werewolf species to be eradicated. Does that mean I suddenly trusted him? Not at all, but I needed whatever allies I could find.

I leapt from the bed as I heard footsteps echo down the hallway, followed by the thick wooden door to my bedroom holding cell open. Tristan stood in the doorway, this time without a tray in his hands. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and hushed.

My stomach was in knots as I followed him down the hallway, towards the back of the warehouse. Tristan was silent the entire time, his shoulders tense at what was to come. We stopped in front of a thick set of double doors, the wood smooth and flawless to the touch. Two Vampire’s stood on either side of the door, their dark eyes never once straying from where they stared.

My eyes bounced around the room as the doors swung open, revealing a room I had once been to. It was the room I visited when my Father used the shadows to call me to him. A large maroon sectional was sat in front of a large fire place, a thick Persian rug under our feet. A small bar carried decanters of suspicious looking scarlet liquid. Sitting on the sectional, with one of his arms draped over the back, was my Father–the Vampire King.

I had seen my Father once before, but this time was different. I hadn’t seen him in person, not truly. The aura that surrounded him was dark and suffocating, like walking into a sauna. My lungs struggled to breathe in the thick air, and my heartrate sky rocketed. The mop of styled raven hair on his head was identical to my own, right down to his bright eyes, which stared into the flames roaring in the fireplace.

I was hyperaware at how the shadows in the room slithered, hiding in the darkness as they surrounded us. I could taste their excitement, their interest in what was about to happen.

“Sit, Lola.” My Father all but commanded, never once turning to look me in the eye.

Tristan stood off to the side, leaning against the fireplace mantle as I trailed over to the couch. I sat as far away from my Father as I could get, holding my ground as he turned and looked into my eyes.

I always thought his eyes would be empty, lacking any hint of a soul. I was wrong, his eyes weren’t empty. They were filled with a burning hunger that would bring the world to its knees, an anger that consumed every sliver of compassion or conscience. Looking into my Father’s eyes taught me something, evil doesn’t just pop into existence–evil is born, bred, and taught.

I tried to imagine my Father as a child, eyes full of wonder and happiness. I didn’t bother looking for any sliver of good within him, as I knew it had all been smothered by that vicious fire burning in his eyes, but he had not been born evil. Life warped him, changed him into this monster–and not once had he resisted.

I had gotten from my Mom, and I wondered how she stomached raising me. How could she look into my eyes for all those years and not see the

need you here, Lola?” He asked, those luminous

intense, frighteningly so. I knew without a doubt that with my help,

the words that

on the Vampire King for too long. My Father scoffed, though the action lacked emotion. He looked me over for a minute, running his eyes down my hair, my face with his speculatory gaze. I was sure he saw what I did, himself reflected in my

cannot control?” My Father asked, one of his dark eyebrows lifting as he stared at me. I had the feeling his question was rhetorical, so I kept

last detail I remembered. Grandma had taught me the history of witches, though not much was known anymore. Most of the information

I admitted, “There used to be a lot of

they went into hiding?” My Father pressed, and seemed to be amused

don’t.”

able to step into the light.” My Father continued, “Vampires have been at the bottom of the food-chain for too long, letting the humans think they actually held some semblance of power. My Grandfather hunted the

of my voice. Before leaving the room, Tristan had warned me not to speak out against my Father, that

has everything to do with you.” My Father’s smile was oily and serpent-like. “Let me tell you a story, then you might understand

conflicted, she remained by my side.” My Father began, and I knew he was talking about my Mother. I wanted to stop him, to deny that she would’ve ever had a part in his plans, but Tristan’s firm look stopped me in my tracks. “I told her of the child we would have, and her importance in this world. The child would be of three different species, and would wield power the world has not yet seen. She would be the product of a Werewolf and a Vampire, but hold power bestowed to her from generations of Witches. The young, mated Werewolf was horrified when she learned the truth, that she would sire a monster unlike any other into this world. She fled, but couldn’t remain hidden forever. I found her again, and when I did, I used the mate-bond she coveted against her. You

time refusing to come to terms. It wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be. My Mom would never join his side, would never abandon her people. My stomach rolled, and I clenched my fists as I fought the urge to hurl all over the expensive Persian rug on the floor. He had used the mate-bond against her to conceive me, that much I expected. What I couldn’t understand was how he thought that child was me. Witches were all but extinct, and I had never seen one in real life before. My Mom was not a witch, that much I knew, nor had I ever exhibited any signs of strange power. My mouth flopped open, and I said the first thing

a witch.” I shook my head, “You’re wrong. I’m not that

and ancient line of witches. She was Half-Vampire, and had been sought out by my Father for a very specific purpose. The Magic in her blood-line skipped a generation, and only seemed to show in the women of her family. The

a child would. Tristan’s firm gaze was the only thing keeping me sane, reminding me to remain calm, to remain respectful. My Father wasn’t above hurting me, nor would our family relations keep him from throwing me in a cell next to

you to listen closely, Lola.” My Father spoke clearly, enunciating each word so that I might commit them to memory. “Do not overthink your purpose here. You will comply to my terms, or be eradicated with the rest of the Werewolves. I won’t for one second believe you have

born?” I repeated, feeling my gut twist at his blatant threat.

with the Vampire King. I was sure he knew about Sean, but I refused to speak his name, to give the Vampire King another person to use against me. My Father’s

are not the only one to make deals with the Shadows, Lola.” My Father replied, lifting his hand to wave

I looked into the eyes of a girl no older than eighteen. My hair, my Father’s hair sat on her head in long, raven-colored waves. Her face was soft and round like my