Page 122 of House Ignis

"Darling," he growled, his voice rough and rasping against the sensitive skin of my neck. "You don't know what you're getting into."

I met his gaze, my vision swimming with molten silver and shadow. "I don't care."

He stilled—then he smiled like a god ready to ruin me for anyone else. In a flash, he dropped to his knees, pulling my legs over his shoulders. He looked up, his expression dangerous and wicked.

"Welcome to the dark side, Princess."

Before I could even draw a breath to respond, his mouth devoured me. His head was between my legs, his fingers digging into my thighs to hold me steady. His shadows weren't just watching anymore—they licked up my skin, coiling around my wrists and pulling them down to the stone, pinning me to his pleasure.

Gods help me, I screamed. The sensation was electrifying, a jagged bolt of lightning that traveled from my core to my skull.

"Oh, darling… you taste even better than I imagined," his voice slid into my mind, dark and velvet-smooth.

My breath hitched, my heart stopping for a fractional second. He was in my head. The bond—the ancient, blood-soaked thread between us—had fully opened. I felt everything now. It wasn't just his touch; it was his hunger. It was the way his own mind was unraveling, the raw possession he felt, and the sheer, staggering weight of his need for me.

And yet—I wasn't drowning this time. For the first time, the fire didn't feel like it was consuming me. It felt like I was finally alive.

Power crackled beneath my skin, fire and shadow colliding in waves that mirrored the rhythm of his mouth. Our magic pulsed and twisted between us—wild, charged, and terrifyingly familiar. It was just like the tryouts, only this time, the pressure wasn't crushing me. I wasn't breaking.

Now, I was the one burning bright.

He moved with a predatory precision, alternating between a frantic pace and a torturous slow glide, savoring every hitch in my breath and every involuntary shudder of my hips. His voice continued to pour through the bond, a low, sinful vibration that felt like it was originating from inside my own chest.

"You feel this too, don't you? The way we fit… the way we were made for this."

My fingers dug into the damp stone, my back arching until I felt the crackle of fire flaring just beneath my skin. "Gods," I gasped, my head lolling back. "Asher—"

He didn't stop. Our magic surged again, but the jagged edges were rounding off—we weren't fighting for dominance anymore; we were syncing.

He moved in one fluid motion, rising from his knees to stand and hauling me up with him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, the friction of our wet skin creating a static charge that made my hair stand on end. I could feel him now—hard, heavy, and pulsing against the center of my ache.

I looked down, and gods, the sight of him made my vision swim. He was slick and gleaming, and a low, needy moan escaped me at the sheer, visual proof of how much I affected him.

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against my lips before his breath ghosted over them. The bond surged between us like molten lightning, thick with a shared, agonizing restraint.

"You sure?" he asked through the link, his mental voice husky and strained.

Lust, need, and a hunger that felt centuries old pulsed in the space between our heartbeats. I had never felt this powerful, this intoxicating. I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear as I sent a slow, deliberate whisper back into the bond.

"It's just sex, Maddox."

There was a pause—half a breath where the world seemed to stop spinning. Then his voice curved into my mind, a wicked, jagged promise. "Whatever you need, darling."

That was all the permission he required.

"Then don't stop," I whispered aloud.

He didn't. His mouth crashed back into mine, tongues tangling in a desperate battle for air while his hands hauled me flush against him. My back arched into the cool stone as he moved forward, his arousal pressing against me and sending a white-hot bolt of pleasure straight to my brain.

He growled into my mouth—a deep, primal sound of victory. I was gone. Floating. Burning. Ready to let him anchor me to the earth.

He adjusted his grip, his muscles corded and shaking with the effort of holding back, and he was just about to thrust in—

But then—

A sudden, violent jolt shot through the bond. It wasn't ours. It was external, a cold shock that felt like being plunged into ice water.

I froze. So did Asher.