Page 175 of House Ignis

The ground beneath him groaned, but the darkness was heavier, stronger—absolute.

Zya prowled up beside Asher, her eyes gleaming with a predatory light, shadows curling around her claws like living smoke.

She looked ready to end the betrothal herself.

"Touch her again," Asher said, his voice dropping into a low, lethal register, "and I'll make sure my face is the last thing you ever see."

Then, as if the brawl had been nothing more than a tedious warm-up, he released the pressure.

The shadows recoiled, settling around his boots.

“Was that absolutely necessary?” I sent through the bond, trying to ignore the way my heart hammered.

"Yes," came the instant, smug reply—followed by a pulse of dark amusement that made my thighs clench.

He offered me his bloodied hand. I rolled my eyes, playing the part of the exasperated queen, but I took it.

He walked me out of the courtyard, House Umbra's shadows trailing behind us like a royal train I hadn't earned but was already wearing.

He didn't let go of my hand until we'd cleared the crowd and slipped into one of the narrow, shadowed corridors behind the Ignis ballroom.

The second we were out of sight, he whirled and pressed me against the cold stone wall, knocking the breath from my lungs.

"Asher—"

Shadows slammed around my wrists, pinning them high above my head against the masonry.

His bloodied mouth hovered just shy of mine, his breath coming in hard and uneven, his eyes still burning with that same deadly, territorial rage.

"You think," he growled, each word slow and deliberate, "that I'm just going to walk you back to your room like nothing happened?"

My heart thundered against my ribs. "You started it, Maddox. You poked the bear."

He smirked, leaning in until his lips brushed the shell of my ear, his stubble grazing my skin.

“I finished it. And now…” His gaze dropped to the high slit of my skirt, finding the black lace garter again. “...you’re going to pay for making me fight with that image burned into my skull.”

Possession blazed through the bond, hot and unmistakable.

My thighs pressed together instinctively, but his shadows were faster.

They slipped between my knees, teasing—dragging over the lace and the bare skin above it until a broken gasp escaped me.

“You're mine, firecracker... Not his. Not the gods-damn fucking continent’s. Not anyone's. Mine.”

A shiver wracked me, my breath hitching as my gaze dropped to his mouth. “You're bleeding.”

"Good," he said, his lips curling into something dark and dangerously satisfied, “I want you to remember exactly what I looked like when you chose me.”

His shadows hooked around my hips, tugging me forward until I was pressed flush against him. There was no mistaking how badly he wanted me.

My head fell back against the cold stone wall, a broken moan catching in my throat as his presence overwhelmed my senses.

"Asher—"

"Yes, darling?" He tilted his head, a ghost of a smirk playing on his bloodied lips.

He feigned innocence even as his darkness coiled higher, stroking me through the lace with an almost lazy, agonizing precision. "Say it. Say you're mine."