Page 121 of House Ignis

The steam curled around us, weaving a veil of privacy in the heart of the woods. Asher hadn't moved a muscle, but he looked like a man standing on the edge of a jagged cliff, waiting for the wind to push him over. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his silver eyes dark and dilated until they were almost entirely black—obsidian pits of raw, unfiltered hunger.

The bond wasn't just humming anymore; it was screaming. It was a physical weight in the water, a high-tension wire vibrating between our heartbeats.

"You're very quiet, Maddox," I murmured, my voice drifting over the mist. I glided through the water toward him, the ripples I created lapping against his broad, scarred chest. "Cat got your tongue?"

He let out a breath that was more of a ragged snarl. The shadows beneath the water's surface began to churn, dark ink swirling around his hips and tangling with the golden light of the pool.

"You keep looking at me like that," I said softly, "and I'll start thinking you actually want me."

He smirked, dark and sharp. "Darling, I do want you."

The way he said it—low, edged with hunger—lit a fire under my skin.

"You have no idea," he rasped, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over broken glass, "the kind of fire you're playing with, Ava."

"Then burn me," I challenged, stopping only inches away.

The heat radiating off him was more intense than the enchanted water. I could feel the thrum of his pulse in the air between us. Up close, the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes looked like diamonds, and the scent of him—rain and dark, dangerous magic—was dizzying.

My bare chest brushed his—nipples hard, grazing against warm, solid muscle—and gods, the contact made my breath catch. His eyes dropped for a fraction of a second, his silver gaze darkening with a primal intent.

"I want answers," I said, barely able to focus.

"I want peace. But every time I'm near you… I can't think. I can't breathe. My mind's a mess, my emotions are—gods—they're everywhere."

I bit my lip, the bond snapping taut like a stretched wire. Asher's walls finally dropped. It hit me like a physical wave. Possession, control, a need so sharp it burned through every layer of my resolve. My whole body shuddered.

"This pull… it's unbearable," I whispered.

"I warned you," he murmured, his voice tight with a restraint that was visibly fraying.

His hand finally made contact, his fingers curling around the back of my neck with a possessiveness that made my toes curl in the silt of the pool. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, and the bond surged—a violent, beautiful collision of our magics.

For a heartbeat, the water around us glowed a brilliant, blinding white.

He leaned down, his lips a fraction of an inch from mine, his breath a scorched vow against my skin.

"Fuck it," he growled, the silver in his eyes disappearing into the black. "Your funeral, Princess."

And then he closed the distance.

His lips crashed into mine, and the world didn't just fade—it incinerated.

Gods. I whimpered, completely undone by the sheer, tectonic force of the kiss. It felt like he was claiming me, devouring me, needing every breath I had just to sustain his own.

My nails raked up his chest, dragging over wet, slick skin and the hard ridges of his muscle, desperate to anchor myself as the bond exploded in my veins like a wildfire hitting a gale.

He kissed me harder, one hand tangling deep in my damp hair to tilt my head back, the other gripping my waist so tightly I knew there would be bruises tomorrow. I didn't care. I wanted the marks. I wanted every jagged, beautiful piece of him.

When he finally pulled away, his chest heaving, his silver eyes searched mine—blazing, unguarded, and stripped of every mask he'd ever worn.

"Gods, Ava," he breathed, his voice wrecked and reverent. "You'll be the death of me."

My hands were raking down his back, and he groaned—a low, feral sound—as if my touch were a physical blow that shattered his remaining restraint. He lifted me with effortless power, my legs wrapping around his waist as if they'd been molded for him.

I could feel the hard, heavy length of him pressing against me through the water, and I gasped against his lips, my magic sparking in time with my pulse.

He walked us to the edge of the pool, the water sloshing rhythmically around our hips. The stone at my back was cool, a sharp contrast to the furnace burning within me.