Page 144 of House Ignis

I saw his smirk flicker for a split second, his walls slamming up so hard the bond went dead-cold, leaving me shivering in the vacuum.

I couldn't take it. Not the eyes of my friends, not the weight of the crown, and especially not the cruelty of the male whose soul was stitched to mine.

A sob caught in my throat, sharp as glass.

I stood so fast my tray clattered against the stone, the sound cracking through the silence.

“Ava?” Ember called, sudden alarm sharpening her voice.

But I was already moving. I didn't say a word as I spun on my heel and bolted for the exit. I didn't care who saw. I didn't care that the tears were already streaming down my face, hot and humiliating. I pushed through the heavy oak doors, the laughter of the canteen fading into a dull roar behind me, leaving me alone in the corridor with nothing but the taste of salt and the wreckage of my heart.

•••

By the time I reached the end of the corridor, my breath was ragged and my hands were trembling with leftover fire. My vision swam, the salt of my tears stinging my cheeks. I needed to hide. I needed the world to stop looking at me.

I ducked into the first unlocked door I could find. A supply closet.

It was dark, smelling of lemon wax and dusty mops. Cramped. Perfect.

I pressed my palms against the cold metal shelving and dragged in a broken breath, trying not to scream.

Trying to force the fire back down into my marrow where it couldn't hurt anyone else.

The bond still buzzed, faint and buried. But there. Always there.

Then the door opened.

I didn't even have to turn around.

The air in the tiny room didn't just cool; it charged.

Power prickled across my skin, raising the fine hairs on my arms.

I felt the heavy, magnetic pull of him before the door even clicked shut.

His scent hit me instantly, rain and dark spice filling the cramped space until there was nowhere left to breathe that wasn't him.

It flooded my senses, making my head spin and my heart thud against my ribs.

Asher stepped inside, and the latch snapping into place sounded like a death knell in the silence.

“Don’t,” I warned, my voice sharp despite the crack in it.

I kept my eyes fixed on a shelf of cleaning fluid. "Don't you dare come near me."

"You ran," he said simply. His voice was devoid of the taunting lilt from the canteen, but it carried the low rumble of distant thunder.

"You humiliated me!" I snapped, whirling around.

Fire licked at my fingertips, casting dancing orange shadows against the cramped walls.

"You do this every time, Asher. You say things—vile, wicked, intimate things—and then you throw up your gods-damned walls and mock me in front of everyone like none of it meant anything. Like I don't mean anything."

He just stood there, his large frame taking up nearly all the space in the closet, watching me like I was the storm and he was waiting for the lightning to strike.

"I'm tired of feeling you and then wondering if I've imagined it all," I said, a stray tear escaping and tracking through the soot on my face. "I'm tired of being the punchline to whatever twisted game you're playing."

The shadows around his boots shifted—low, quiet, and restless. He took a step forward. Then another, until the heat of his body was warring with the electric chill of his magic.