Page 284 of House Ignis

He came to a halt in the center of the landing, his gaze dropping to mine with a predatory weight.

“All to ourselves, princess?”

The dark promise in his voice sent a sharp throb through me. I was already so sensitive, every nerve ending screaming from the friction of his movements and the lingering memory of what we'd done in the garden.

I didn't need to answer; the bond was already humming with exactly what I wanted him to do once we reached the bedroom.

He set me down in the center of the living room, my bare feet sinking into the thick, Zymarrian-threaded rug.

I looked around, and my heart suddenly seized in my chest.

The white walls were lined with delicate gold filigree, the marble floors gleaming under the moonlight that spilled through high, arched windows.

White and gold tapestries draped from the ceiling, leading out to a balcony that overlooked the sprawling lights of the city below.

The door to my chambers stood to the left, exactly where it had always been. And then, it hit me like a physical blow.

I was back. This room was exactly as it had been before... before he died.

Grief flooded my vision, hot and suffocating.

The air left my lungs as a jagged sob tore from my throat, and my legs gave out.

I collapsed toward the floor, the world blurring into a haze of white and gold.

"Ava!" Asher’s voice cracked through the room, sharp with alarm.

He was in front of me before I hit the ground, his arms wrapping around me, his hands catching my face to force me to look at him.

His silver eyes were wide, drowning in a sudden, crushing remorse as the bond transmitted every ounce of my agony directly into his chest.

He could feel it all—the hollow ache, the memories, the haunting silence of the room.

"I just haven't... gods..." I choked out, but the words were lost as I burst into fresh tears, my body trembling with the weight of a loss that felt as new as the night.

He pulled me into him, his grip iron-clad as he gathered me against his heat.

"Shhh," he cooed, his voice low and vibrating against my temple as he tucked my head firmly under his chin.

"I've got you. I've got you."

He sat with me for several minutes, the only sound in the room the soft rustle of the silk curtains.

Gradually, the last of my tears spilled over, and the frantic clawing of anxiety in my chest began to ease.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly, finally grounding myself in the present.

I nodded against his chest and peeled myself out of his arms.

When I looked at him, his eyes poured into mine, searching every fractured part of my expression with a devastating intensity.

"I need to bathe," I whispered, my voice hoarse and raw from the sobbing.

He didn't say anything, but the sheer weight of his presence was the anchor I needed to stay upright.

"Which way?" he asked, his voice so soft it was barely more than a breath.

I tried to point toward the door on the left, but my hand shook violently.