Page 108 of House Ignis

Ember followed my eyes to the lounge. "Fuck," she whispered, her hand reaching out to grab my wrist. "Come on. Let's just go. Don't give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this."

But it was too late. He felt it. The second my rage spiked, he stiffened, his shadows recoiling from the girl like they'd been burned. She was still mouthing at his neck, oblivious, as he turned his head. Those silver eyes locked on mine, freezing the air in my lungs.

I saw the moment he realized I was standing there. I saw the instant our magic collided across the room, a violent friction of heat and cold.

And then—I turned.

I didn't wait for excuses. I didn't wait for him to push her off. I stormed out, flames trailing my steps and scorching the hem of my dress. My head was spinning, my heart cracking open with every ragged breath I took.

I ran through the gardens, past the glowing trees and the moonlit archways, needing to be anywhere but near him. Finally, I came to a halt in a secluded grove, my chest heaving and my rage scorching through every inch of me. The tears prickled, unwanted and sharp, blurring the silver blossoms above.

How dare he. How dare he feel everything I just felt with Jeremy—every touch, every moan—and then pull the first girl he saw onto his lap.

The bond ached, a heavy, pulsing regret and sharp desire, but I slammed my heels into the dirt and screamed into the silence, letting the fire in my palms erupt.

The mark on my collarbone didn't just burn; it screamed. It was a white-hot brand, pulsing in sync with the heavy, rhythmic thud of boots against the grass.

I spun around, my hands still wreathed in fading embers.

He was there.

Asher stood at the edge of the clearing like a summoned storm, his chest heaving as if he'd sprinted the entire way. His fists were clenched so tight the tendons in his forearms stood out like corded steel. The shadows at his feet weren't curling lazily anymore; they were lashing at the wildflowers, matching the jagged fury in his eyes.

"Angry, Firecracker?" he drawled, though the usual playfulness was gone, replaced by a voice like velvet dipped in lightning. He stepped into the moonlight, closing the distance until the scent of smoke and rain drowned out the mooncherries.

"You betrayed me," I spat, my voice trembling with a rage that felt like it was melting my very bones.

His jaw ticked. For the first time since I'd met him, the smart response didn't come instantly. He looked away, his shadows flickering and dying back as if he were fighting for control. Then, he looked back, and that maddening smirk returned. He was right in front of me now, so close I could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

"I thought we weren't a thing," he challenged, his voice dropping an octave.

Gods.

My fire exploded. It burst through the dampening hold of his shadows and roared up my arms. I didn't think. I didn't breathe. I just moved.

My palm met his cheek with a sharp, stinging crack. The flames at my fingertips curled against his skin, my nails catching the edge of his lower lip. A bead of blood welled up—dark, slow, and glistening in the moonlight.

But he didn't flinch. He didn't even pull back.

Instead, he turned his face back to mine, and those obsidian eyes were there again. Not silver, but pits of pure, terrifying void—wild and wicked, as if my violence had handed him exactly what he'd been starving for. That grin was feral, a predator finally invited to hunt. My heart thundered against my ribs, but the void eyes vanished as quickly as they'd appeared, replaced by fractured silver.

I noticed, though. I saw the monster behind the mask.

And I wanted more.

I didn't know who I was anymore. The bond had taken the reins, reckless and raw, stripping away the Princess and the Protector until there was only the fire and the dark. Our emotions were blurring, bleeding into each other until I couldn't tell where my fury ended and his hunger began.

We were losing it. We were standing on the precipice of something we couldn't come back from—a collision that would leave us both in ashes. For the first time, a cold spike of genuine fear pierced through the heat.

He felt it. Through the bond, he felt my heart stumble, felt the tremor of terror beneath my defiance. His expression fractured, the smugness falling away to reveal something raw and aching. We were two storms colliding, and I wasn't sure if we were trying to destroy each other or save ourselves.

The shadows shifted. They were softer now—gentler—as they rose up my spine, curling around me like a dark whisper. One traced the curve of my neck, and I moaned. No—I whimpered, really. Gods, I was pathetic. But I craved it. I craved him. The push and the pull, the fire and the dark.

And he knew it.

He stepped in again, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on mine—silver, endless, and all-consuming. "You're not scared of me," he murmured, his voice like smoke. "You're scared of how much you want this."

He was right, and that terrified me more than anything else in this realm. I was breathing heavily now, fury and something darker tangled in my chest. His shadows rose, coiling gently up my spine and caressing my neck with a breath of darkness. I felt myself unraveling.