Margret pulled him into a tight hug when he walked through the front door.
Her arms tightened around him as if he was just a dream and he was going to disappear if she loosened her grip just the littlest bit. She smelled of peaches and coconut. It was a familiar scent he'd been raised on but for some reason, at that moment, it reminded him of all the horrible things that had happened to him.
"I'm fine," he said. He pushed her away. "You're overreacting."
He didn't want to look at her face. He turned away and tried to flee to his bedroom. She grabbed him by the shoulders.
"That's it? That's what you say to me when I'm worried sick about you?" She choked back a sob. "What is wrong with you?"
He glared. He wished he could glare at her, but he couldn't. As much as she'd lied to him, she was still his mom.
She shook her head like this was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Like she couldn't believe this was the thing to break her. Ren still couldn't look at her. He could only see a bit of her face out of the corner of his eyes. It was enough to see the damage he was causing.
The pain went further than surface level. After years of build up, it was going to take a lot more than a few off-handed apologies and pity-parties to get rid of it.
Her hands slipped away. She was no longer touching him. She felt miles away, a ghost drifting in and out of existence. Or maybe that was him. That made more sense. He was barely there, existing but numb to everything that made him a person.
"I don't want to talk right now." He tried to walk away.
She stepped in front of him.
"No. You're going to stay and you're going to tell me what the hell is going on."
Her tears were still wet on her cheeks. She didn't bother to wipe them off. She wore them proudly as she stared at him, her menacing look one he'd seen many times before. This time, however, it was different. It was worse. It was piercing through his chest, melting him, and he felt like melting into a puddle at her feet.
For a second, their eyes met.
He didn't want her to see him like this. He wanted to be a better son, but he wasn't. He wasn't even close to being an okay son.
"Look at me." Her voice was firm, but it was covering a layer of fear. He could feel it just like he'd been feeling other people's emotions.
He didn't know when it started, if he'd always had the ability and he was just now realizing it. It was torture to have it now because he couldn't wave her off. He knew how much this was killing her. He couldn't walk away without feeling like shit later.
He slowly looked away from the floor. He hadn't noticed he'd been trying to drill holes into the hardwood flooring until he had to force his gaze away.
When their eyes met, he wasn't surprised by the worry and the anger in her eyes. She could hate him and he wouldn't do a thing. Nothing would change. He would still do everything in his power to keep her safe.
But it was like looking in a mirror. As determined as he was, she was just as determined.
It made sense. Like mother, like son.
"Tell me. Nothing you say will make me love you less."
His eyes flickered. He held her gaze, trying to see deeper. He knew she wasn't lying, yet, he remembered all the secrets under her bed. Were there more?
That wasn't the real problem. The problem was that if she knew what mess he was in, she would be pulled in as well. It was better for her to not know. Then, if things went bad, she couldn't be blamed.
Because if they found out she was a witch, she was just as bad as a vampire.
The tension in the air was too much. He couldn't breathe when his entire life was hanging by a strand.
He forced out a laugh. It burned his throat.
"I'm fine. I'm not lying." The lie about not lying was the most headache inducing thing he'd said in a long time.
She was still staring at him. Maybe she was trying to look deeper inside him. Could she sense his emotions like he could hers? Things were muffled for him and he couldn't get a clear picture when he wanted to. It wasn't like he was a mind reader.
He wished he was. He could pick her brain apart and put all the pieces together. How she knew the Mantels, who his grandparents really were, and why they had decided to live here instead of following all the other witches to the unclaimed land.
He walked away, running, but he didn't feel like he was going fast enough. His feet were walking through water and the entire way to the stairs, he could feel her eyes on his back. Turn around, the small voices in his head were telling him. They told him to apologize, to explain everything so he didn't have to be alone in this.
But he pressed his lips together and fought the need to spill his guts as he ascended the staircase.
He was sick to his stomach as he closed his bedroom door. There was a heaviness in his bones. He tried to shake it off, but he already knew nothing except telling her the truth would be able to get rid of it. It was like black tar was being pumped into him. He was filled to the brim with the thick liquid and he felt like he was going to burst with the pressure.
He slumped onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling.
Where had things gone wrong?
When did his life start to suck this bad? He remembered it wasn't that great when he was younger, but it wasn't like he hated everything.
At least, he had his mom back then He didn't feel like he had her at all anymore.
Minutes passed as he stared at the ceiling. There were cracks and stains he hadn't noticed before. The house was old, probably older than his grandparents. He hadn't stopped to just stare at the unimportant specks and holes. There was no reason to. But right then, he wanted to disappear. He wanted to fill his mind with useless crap so he didn't think about the crazy situation he'd gotten himself into.
He began to doze off when there was a sharp knock.
He jolted in his bed. He blinked his bleary eyes and looked to his bedroom door.
"It's not locked."
He was startled when his window flew open instead of the door.
Ashton crawled through. "You always keep it unlocked?"
He crawled in like a spider, long arms and long legs that made him look even thinner and slimmer.
Ren groaned and fell back. He threw an arm over his face. "I can't do this right now."
He heard Ashton shut the window and walk over to the bed. Now, he could feel Ashton staring down at him, looming over him while he tried to pretend he was alone.
"Does this have anything to do with that kid who looked like he got punched in the face?"
Ren let out a snort. "Are you watching me now? That's really fucking creepy."
"I'm observing. There's a big difference."
Ren rolled his eyes. "Sure."
"Unlike you think, I don't get off on stalking. You're far too boring."
"So, it's just me that you don't like to stalk. I see."
"Not what I meant at all."
He wasn't spinning anymore. He wasn't flying or trying to pretend he was heading out to space. He was right there in the moment, nailed to the bed, and forced to face everything. Ashton was at the center of all this. Ren couldn't turn away. He couldn't ignore Ashton's gaze or the heat he could feel rolling off of him.
"So." Ashton hadn't moved. "Is this a bad time?"
Ren imagined the pensive look on Ashton's face. He saw very clearly the dark and narrowed eyes trying to force him out of bed.
Ashton had tried to do that to him once. He'd tried to use his powers on him, but it hadn't worked. It must have been the witch blood inside him. Witches were born immune to the powers of vampires.
He wondered what would have happened if Ashton had been able to force him to do what he wanted. They surely wouldn't be here now. Ashton would have sent him away and erased all his memories.
He wasn't sure if that would have been better. Either way, he'd still be wrapped up in this mess.
He removed his arm.
Ashton seemed gigantic when he was looming over Ren. It almost didn't feel real when Ashton's eyes met his. It was like a dream where he was trying to make sense of his surroundings, trying to understand how he'd ended up in this place.
Ashton's brown eyes had a hint of gold in them. The setting sun washed over the small bedroom, bathing Ashton in a warm glow. There was an outline around his tall form. He wasn't an angel. He didn't look like an angel, but there was something about him then that made Ren think he could have been painted in one of those old cathedrals.
Ren took a faint breath.
There was something about this moment that made him want to pick up a pencil. He'd never had an interest in drawing before, but right then and there, he wanted the ability to create picture realistic sketches. He wanted to seal this moment in time forever so he could revisit it whenever he wanted to.
Ashton slowly leaned down. He placed his hands on the bed. The mattress sunk down.
Ren tightened his hand on the pillow. His right arm that was above his head ached, but he didn't dare move.
Ashton inched closer, his brown eyes flickering with an emotion that pulled Ren's stomach tight.
"Are you going to answer me?"
His eyes slid down to Ren's mouth and then lower to his neck.
Ren's body was on fire. He was burning under the blatant undressing. His throat went tight with all the snippy words he'd been rehearsing in his head. Nothing was coming out and nothing felt like it was going to do anything.
And he wasn't sure he wanted to stop Ashton.
He wanted to know what was going to happen next.
He held as still as possible. His body ached not only because he was trying hard to not move, but also because it was reacting to Ashton's body.
The taste of blood was just a memory in his head, yet, it didn't feel that far off. His eyes drifted from Ashton's and down to his throat. He'd already tasted his blood from his wrist. Would it taste different when it was from his neck?
Meats always tasted different in different parts of the body. Was it the same with blood?
He didn't know how they'd gotten here. He didn't know when he started behaving this way. His body was burning red hot and he was being drawn toward Ashton like a moth to a flame.
The temptation was there. It's web had caught him and he was being slowly reeled in for the spider to feast upon him.
Ashton's lips and his stare were all Ren could think about. It was consuming him.
"How long are you going to stare at my neck like a starving dog?"
Ren looked away from Ashton's neck. He'd been focused on a specific spot where he wanted to sink his fangs in so deep Ashton would scream. In a progression of just a few seconds, he had a plan mapped out in his head of just how he'd do it.
He would shove Ashton to the ground, press their bodies together, and take what he wanted. He didn't know he wanted to hold Ashton down by the neck and drink to his fill until then. He was mesmerized by the possibilities though he couldn't bring himself to actually do it.
The dark thing begged to make his fantasies come true. The dark thoughts plaguing his mind were more than just side affects of what the dark thing was doing to him. Those were his actual thoughts. He was that fucked up.
He turned his head away. His face was flushed, burning from the tips of his ears to his cheeks and then down to his chest.
But he wasn't alone. He'd seen a glimpse of Ashton's face. There was a light dusting of pink on his white cheeks that hadn't been there before. Ren had done that. It was a small crack in the otherwise impenetrable wall, but it was enough to give Ren the idea that it was possible to get underneath Ashton's skin.
"What are you here for?" He decided it was best to ignore Ashton's remarks about his staring.
Ashton moved away from the bed. Even so, Ren couldn't get rid of the memory of his body heat.
"We haven't got much of a lead in this investigation. We need to find something or else we're not going to get anywhere."
At least he was starting to say 'we'. Ren considered it progress. Slow progress, but progress none-the-less.
He hadn't moved back from the bed. He was just standing there. Ren didn't want to be the one to make the first move. He wasn't exactly content in being in this uncomfortable position for much longer, but he didn't know how to get out of it.
He flexed his fingers, his thoughts racing a hundred miles a minute. They were going back and forth between what he should do and what he shouldn't so he looked less like an idiot. In the end, he came up with nothing and he was left with no other thought other than that he was going to fuck this up.
He rolled onto his side. He sat up, facing the wall, so he didn't have to see Ashton. It wasn't enough to pretend he wasn't there. He knew Ashton was behind him, watching him with those honey eyes that seemed to know everything.
They didn't. He didn't know half the shit Ren had gone through. Yet, his body was reacting like Ashton was the biggest threat in the world.
"And?"
It felt like they were going in circles. Well, Ren felt like he was going in circles. He was putting up a facade. He wasn't calm, but he was trying to mask it. The answer felt foreign. It had slipped off his lips though he didn't feel it. Someone else was talking. The words were just air with no meaning.
"I figure our best bet would be to follow one of them. Either we find out where they're located or we find out what they're working on." There was a rustle. The boards creaked as Ashton leaned his weight to his left leg. "As much as I don't want to look at you either, it's annoying to talk to the back of a head."
Dull. That was the word Ren had been searching for. It described perfectly what his senses were like right then.
Of course, Ashton was like molten lava. He was being burned by all the sensory stimuli radiating off of Ashton like a furnace.
He stood and turned. He didn't look Ashton in the eyes. That would have been too much.
"You think that would work?" He crossed his arms to hide the shaking in his hands.
Ashton had pointed it out last time. He'd rather not give him another thing to taunt him with.
Ashton blankly stared at him. His upper lip twitched. "It will."
The words were spoken slowly.
"Okay then," Ren said, backpedaling. He didn't fucking know why he'd questioned Ashton. He couldn't fucking think straight right then.
He felt like an absolute idiot and he couldn't get his fucking body to settle down.
Ashton looked him over. There wasn't heat in his eyes like there'd been a moment before. He furrowed his brows and cocked his head.
"There's something off about you."
Ren choked. "O-Off?"
This time, he definitely couldn't look him in the eyes. He gazed past him, looking at the window. The forest looked a lot safer than he felt in his own bedroom. It wasn't just Ashton. It was the implications that came along with his presence, what Ren had felt when he'd been laying in bed, and the thirst Ren had for Ashton's blood.
All those things melded together to form a big ball of fuckery that drove Ren crazy. It was all the things he didn't want to deal with when he was trying to solve the mystery that was the murder of the young girl.
And then there was also the fact that Ashton might find out that Ren was half witch. That was one thing that would end up with him being in trouble. He didn't know if the Mantels had known his mom was a witch when they knew each other, but he highly doubted Ashton would care all that much.
They had an agreement though. However, when that ended, would Ashton do anything when he found out Ren was a witch?
There was no telling if he wouldn't kill Ren on the spot because he hated witches so much.
Ashton's gaze narrowed. "Yeah. It's that thing that you're not telling. You're not a very good liar. It shows."
Ren flushed even more. Ashton was watching him close enough to notice when he was lying. That shouldn't have made him as happy as it did.
He rolled his eyes. "I don't need you telling me how you can read me like a book."
He tried to walk around Ashton. He made it just a few steps when Ashton pulled him to the side.
He fell awkwardly to the side. Ashton's firm hand on his bicep stopped him. As thin as he looked, he looked like he could be pushed over by a gust of wind.
Ren was wrong about that.
Just by his body pressed against Ashton's, he could feel the rigid muscles beneath his fancy clothes. He barely moved when Ren fell into him.
"Are you trying to piss me off?" Ashton's lips were pulled to the side. Like he'd tasted the most awful thing in the world.
He's not going to do anything. He's bluffing.
As much as he repeated those reassuring words, his brain wasn't believing them.
Instead of looking Ashton in the eyes—he knew that would be a bad idea—he stared at the space between his brows. He tried not to think about how he probably looked ridiculous. That wasn't anything new and it wasn't like he was trying to impress Ashton.
He shouldn't be anyway.
"Is it working?"
Fuck. That wasn't what he meant to say.
He swallowed. The lump in his throat got bigger. He wasn't going to back down though. It wasn't like he could take back the words.
Ashton's nose wrinkled. His brows furrowed and he was thinking hard about something. Ren wished he knew what he was thinking. It would be easy to get rid of this strange feeling in his chest if he could see the dark thoughts swirling around in Ashton's head. If he saw how much of a vile person he was, his body would think twice about how it reacted.
Ashton dropped his grip on Ren's arm. "Let's go before I decide to rip your head off."
It wasn't a threat he was able to actually fulfill. The agreement was still in place. That was the only good thing that had come out of them meeting. Ren didn't have to worry for awhile about Ashton wanting to kill him.
The tension hadn't left Ren's shoulders. His body buzzed, the dark thing lurking at the surface. It was whispering about all the things it wanted to do to Ashton. It kept trying to push Ren over the edge and make him take the addictive blood he couldn't stop thinking about.
Ashton threw the window open and a cold gust of wind knocked into Ren. The cold dismantled some of the dark thoughts. He shook the rest away though he couldn't do anything to get rid of them completely. They were still there and he feared they would always be.
The worst of it was that he was starting to get used to them being there. Almost as if they'd been there all along and it was only now that he'd noticed.
He watched as Ashton dropped from the window to the ground. He landed in a crouch, his right hand in-between his legs to steady himself. He looked up, meeting Ren's eyes.
Ren stepped back.
"You've got this. You can do this," he mumbled. He wasn't sure if he was talking about the jump or about tolerating being around Ashton.
He decided it didn't matter.
He copied Ashton's form as much as he could. He threw both legs out of the window and stabled himself with his arms behind him. His fingers clamped down onto the wood. He hissed as the old wood poked him, but he made no sound.
He took one breath and then he jumped.
The fall felt like forever and also less than a second. He was falling through the air, the sound of the wind soft in his ears, and the ground was racing toward him.
The suspension in time was a piece of reality plucked from the threads of the universe. He could feel it as if it was something that could be held or seen. His nerves quivered as light shocks went through him. His stomach tumbled. He had only a small fraction of a second to think about his movements before it would be too late.
But in the end, it was all reflex.
He landed like Ashton had, however, with a lot less grace. He lost his balance, almost falling back on his butt, but he caught himself with his other hand.
Pinpricks ran up his legs. They felt like jelly pumped full of needles. It was uncomfortable to say the least.
"Not bad," Ashton off-handedly said. He shrugged his shoulders. He stood with one hand on his hip. It was too casual.
Ren glowered at him. "Show off."
He dusted himself off.
"I'll try and 'show off' later."
They headed into the forest. They were going away from Ren's house and away from Ashton's. They were heading to the bad side of town which Ren was familiar with.
It didn't go unnoticed by Ren that they were walking in the same pace and were almost in sync with one another.
He purposely missed a step so their steps weren't the same.