Page 220 of House Ignis

Havoc immediately joined in, licking the other side of my face with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for fresh meat.

“Ezra!” I shrieked, flailing as the two-headed menace climbed halfway onto the mattress.

Ezra leaned against the wall, sipping his coffee like this was the best entertainment he’d had all week. “Look at that,” he said lazily. “They really do like you.”

“They’re trying to drown me in saliva!”

Ruin’s tail thumped happily against the bed frame, the vibration rattling my teeth, while Havoc nudged my shoulder with a heavy, insistent snout.

“Control your demon dogs, Valeor!”

Ezra only grinned wider, his orange eyes glinting. “They are under control. They’re just showing affection.”

Ruin licked my chin again for good measure.

I groaned and collapsed back, defeated.

“I hate all of you. Every single one of you.”

Ruin gave my cheek one last proud lick before both heads settled beside me on the covers, a low, satisfied rumble rolling through their massive chests.

I cracked one eye open to find Ezra watching me, his expression softening just a fraction.

“Why,” I asked hoarsely, “are we awake at this ungodly hour?”

Ezra pushed himself off the wall and walked closer, still holding two steaming cups. “Training.”

I stared at him. Then, very slowly, I closed my eyes again. “Fuck no.”

“Fuck yes, princess.”

I didn't move. “Go ask Ember,” I muttered. “She’s the fire wielder with the energy.”

Ezra snorted. “Firstly, I did.”

My eye cracked open again. “And?”

He took another sip of his coffee, looking far too amused with his own misfortune. “I got a fireball nearly singeing my eyebrows off. She’s still buried under her duvet, threatening to murder me.”

Despite the hollow ache in my chest, a small smile tugged at my mouth. Ember did not appreciate being woken before sunrise, and she was much more literal with her threats than I was.

Ruin huffed beside me as if he’d been there for the encounter and agreed with Ezra's assessment.

I rolled slightly onto my back and squinted up at the Umbra male.

“And why exactly won’t I throw a fireball at you? Give me one good reason.”

His grin turned wicked. “Well,” he said, lowering the second cup toward me, “I got you butterscotch first.”

I blinked. My favorite.

“Peace offering,” he added.

The smell hit me then—warm coffee and sweet, buttery caramel.

I snatched the cup from his hand and inhaled the scent like it might actually be the thing to save my life.

Ezra leaned a little closer, his orange eyes glowing like a rising sun. “Also,” he added, his voice dropping to a lower, steadier register, “I figured—princess—what better way to get all that anger out… than on me?”