Page 95 of House Ignis

I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. "I need to get a grip on this bond."

He leaned against the bedpost, the movement making his muscles shift and roll under the lamplight. My gaze betrayed me, dropping to the heavy, unmistakable strain against the fabric of his sweats.

Fuck.

My eyes snapped back to his, but it was too late. He was watching me with a look of pure, dark entertainment, his gaze dropping pointedly to where mine had just been.

"Sure, Princess," he drawled, his voice still thick from the near-miss on the bed. "You let me know how that works out for you."

I wanted to punch him. Right in that perfectly sculpted, shadow-kissed face.

But then he ruined it further, his smirk sharpening into something professional and twice as irritating. "Get dressed. You can blow off some steam in training."

I blinked, the lingering fog of grief and lust momentarily clearing. "Training? Now?"

He tilted his head toward my bedside clock. 5:30 a.m.

I gaped. "You're kidding me. It's practically still night."

"Or," he said, pushing off the bedpost and leaning against the wall with obscene casualness, "would you prefer to crawl back into bed? With me?"

He didn't move, but the visual was a tactical strike: the low-slung sweatpants, the hard ridges of his abs, and the way the morning shadows licked at the bond mark on his collarbone. That smug look said he already knew exactly how fast my heart was hammering.

"Nope," I snapped, spinning on my heel so fast I nearly tripped. "Nope. Godsdammit. No."

I practically sprinted to my dresser, ripping open drawers like my life depended on finding my combat leathers.

Behind me, I heard the low, melodic vibration of his chuckle. "Didn't even have to use shadows for that one."

"Shut up, Maddox!" I yelled over my shoulder, clutching a sports bra like a shield.

"Yes, Princess," he replied, his voice trailing off as he headed toward the door, sounding entirely too satisfied with himself.

I stared at myself in the mirror, cursed by the gods and sleep-deprived. I was in my Ignis House gear—tight, functional, and far too revealing for a morning spent with the male currently strolling out of my bathroom. Asher was already in his Umbra leathers, wet hair dripping onto the bond mark that shimmered on his collarbone.

"Stop glaring at yourself," he called from the doorway.

The training hall was empty and cavernous at this hour, our shared House slot a cruel joke by the Academy. Asher walked to the center mat, shadows already pooling beneath his boots. "Come on, Princess."

"What are we even doing here?" I asked, stepping onto the mat.

"Aegos Trials are brutal," he said, arms crossing over his chest. "You need to handle anything."

I barely nodded before—WHUMP.

I was flat on my back, air punched out of my lungs. I glared up at him. "What the—Maddox!"

"Once you're on the mat, we're enemies," he said coolly.

Anger flared in my core, hot and jagged. He felt it through the bond and smirked. "Good. Get angry. Use it."

"You asked for it."

I launched. Flame licked my knuckles as I rolled and fired a blast at his side. He dodged with inhuman speed, shadows curling like smoke. He taunted me, circling, until I landed a fire-enhanced punch that grazed his jaw, drawing a thin trickle of blood.

He retaliated instantly, sweeping my legs, but I twisted midair and landed a kick against his thigh with a satisfying crack. We were predators now, sweat soaking my skin, the bond vibrating through my ribs with every strike.

Then, he moved too fast. A blade of shadow nicked my bicep.