Page 213 of House Ignis

"Ava!"

Asher's scream was raw, a sound of total devastation that cut through the thunder.

I forced my eyelids to move, just a fraction.

Through the silver sheets of rain, I saw him.

He was a mess of shadow and bone, his silver eyes wide and wild with a terror I had never seen in him.

He was fighting, lunging toward me with a desperation that made the air ache, clawing at the mud as if he could pull the distance between us closed by sheer force of will.

But Mavrik and Ryven were there, their faces grim as they wrapped their arms around him.

They were hauling him back, anchoring him even as he thrashed against them, his voice breaking as he shrieked my name.

He looked like a male watching his entire world collapse into an abyss, and for a second, the agony in the bond was so sharp I thought my heart might actually stop beating.

I tried to reach for him—to project one last thought of love through the link—but my limbs were lead.

Then the view of the field was blocked.

A wall of warmth and the scent of spice and cedar pressed in.

Ezra shifted, his body shielding me from the chaos, pulling me tighter against his chest.

His hands were still on my face, grounding me even as the ground felt like it was falling away.

"I've got you," he whispered, his voice the only steady thing left in the universe. "Stay with me, Ava."

And then the orange embers of his gaze were the only light left until the darkness finally won.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

"Ava, you're awake," Aether purred in my mind, relief dripping through every syllable.

"Yeah—fuck—what?" I croaked back, my throat dry and tasting of copper and smoke.

"—Ava?" A voice tugged me through the fog. Not Aether's.

My vision sharpened, the blur pulling into sunset-orange eyes staring down at me.

Gods, his gaze burned like embers, steady and familiar.

"Ezra," I breathed, my chest stuttering.

I shifted, realizing I wasn't on the field anymore. White walls. The scent of antiseptic and dried herbs.

The faint hum of protective wards. I was in the infirmary.

"I—" I tried to sit up, but pain lanced through my skull. "Ow."

"Whoa, Hotshot," Ezra murmured, steadying me with a hand firmly against my shoulder.

The nickname earned him a weak look, and he only offered a faint, strained grin.

And then it hit me. The bond. It was empty. Silent.

I couldn't feel the hum of silver, the prickle of shadow, or the heat of his presence. Nothing.