Page 201 of House Ignis

"A game is a game, darling," he purred back, his mental voice smug and reckless.

Jeremy leaned in further. “I dare you to challenge me for my betrothal.”

Gasps erupted like a wave around the table. My heart seized so hard I thought it might actually stop.

Surprise flickered down the bond from Asher—brief and sharp—but it was instantly swallowed by that wicked, hungry grin.

"What the fuck, Jeremy?" Ryven shot to his feet.

"Yeah, that's low," Ember spat, slamming her drink onto the table. "Gods, you really are a fucking sore loser. This is pathetic."

Jeremy's smirk didn't falter. “You've all heard the terms before. A dare's a dare. Unless Maddox is a coward?”

"Fuck your terms," Ryven seethed.

Mavrik rose too, a literal mountain of a male, squaring off against Jeremy and his lackeys.

And in the middle of the brewing chaos, Asher took my hand and kissed my thumb. It was soft. It was deliberate. It was deadly.

"Let's hear the specifics," he murmured.

Every head at the table whipped toward him in shock.

"What?" I hissed, the word breaking in my throat.

Asher's grin widened. Shadows swirled around our table, spreading across the floor in restless coils.

"Asher, think," Darcy warned from behind, her violet eyes serious, but he didn't move. I was still perched on his lap, his hand drawing lazy circles on my thigh.

Jeremy's voice cut through the charged air, venom laced in every syllable.

“He wins, I sign the papers dissolving the betrothal and send them to the King myself. I walk away.”

My heart stuttered.

What did he just say?

Asher's shadows lashed out, furious, but Jeremy only sneered. "Or I win… and you leave my betrothed the fuck alone. Permanently. You don't look at her, you don't touch her, and you stay out of our lives."

I shot up, rage shaking my entire frame. "What the fuck, Jeremy? I'm sorry I hurt you, but I am not a trophy! You can't just—"

"Ava," Ember said suddenly. She stood across from me, her green eyes burning and unflinching.

"What?" I snapped, looking at her.

“He can.” Ember’s face had gone deathly serious. “I was raised to know the laws that protect you, Ava. And the ones that can be used against you.” Her jaw tightened.

“It’s an old royal law. Ancient. Barely used anymore, but still binding. He can.”

The world tilted. My stomach dropped straight through the floor. The betrothal wasn't just a promise. It was a binding royal contract, and apparently, it could be wagered.

Jeremy's grin widened, satisfied. He'd gotten exactly what he wanted.

I turned to Asher, desperate, pleading with my eyes.

He saw it. He felt it all through the bond—my panic, my sense of betrayal, my desperate love for him.

"That won't happen," Asher promised. "I won't lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone."