Asher's Beloved

The familiar scent of damp earth and ancient wood filled my nostrils as I scrambled up the gnarled trunk of the oak. Ivan, my twin, was already perched in our dilapidated tree-house, a hand outstretched, his green eyes mirroring my own worry. Six months had passed since we’d shifted, since the beasts within us had roared to life, and the rigorous training had only intensified.

"What's wrong?" I asked, taking his hand, my own heart thrumming with unspoken fears. He pulled me up, his lanky frame now muscled and strong, a stark contrast to my own slighter build. We were only sixteen, but the weight of our heritage, of the powers we struggled to contain, pressed down on us like a physical burden.

He sighed, the sound echoing the quiet anxiety that had settled between us. "I'm scared. What if I can't control my vampire and end up hurting everyone? I'm not fit to lead."

I bit my lip, the fear a cold knot in my stomach. "We'll get through it," I whispered, resting my head on his shoulder. "We're the Romanovs. We can do anything."

Our moment of quiet camaraderie was shattered by Mom's booming voice from below. "Ivan Romanov, I told you to clean your room three hours ago!" His grin vanished, replaced by a groan, and he yanked me back inside the tree-house. A yelp escaped me as my head hit the wooden wall, but before I could grumble, he was already begging, a five-dollar bill waved temptingly. "Five bucks if you do it for me."

I needed that money for paint supplies. "Make it ten," I countered, a smirk playing on my lips. His frown deepened, but desperation won out. He pressed the crumpled bill into my hand, then disappeared down the ladder, Mom's angry calls following him. Smiling softly at his antics, I followed, shrugging innocently as Mom looked at me, a sigh escaping her lips.