Page 306 of House Ignis

When he pulled back, his breath was shredded against mine, his silver eyes molten with a predatory hunger.

“Gods,” I gasped, my chest heaving, the bond still sparking between us.

“Game time,” I breathed, the fire roaring to life in my palm, brighter and hotter than before.

His grin curved, dark and devastating, shadows licking his fists as Aether and Zya melted into the darkness ahead of us.

The crowd’s roar hit fever pitch, the whole arena stomping and screaming our names.

And gods—I fucking loved this male.

"Let's show them how a Queen and her King take a throne," I whispered, and we ran into the dark.

The first turn was a sharp, jagged deathtrap. As we rounded the corner, the floor didn't just shift—it vanished.

"Jump!" Asher roared.

I didn't even look down into the glowing green pit of acid.

I threw myself forward, my leathers creaking, and felt the sudden, jarring weight of his shadows catching me mid-air, swinging me like a pendulum toward the opposite ledge.

I landed hard, rolling to my feet as Aether cleared the gap in a single, magnificent leap, his claws digging into the stone with a shower of sparks.

Zya was already on the other side, a black blur that had seemingly teleported through the gloom.

A low, rattling hiss echoed from the ceiling.

"Serpents," I breathed, my palms igniting.

They weren't mechanical. These were flesh and bone, mutated by the Arena’s cruelty.

Dozens of them, thick as my thigh and dripping neon-green venom, began to uncoil from the rafters.

Their eyes were milky-white, sensing our heat.

"Don't let them touch you," Asher warned, his daggers appearing in his hands as if woven from the darkness itself.

"One scratch and the paralysis sets in. They'll leave you for the next team to finish off."

The drones dived low, buzzing like angry hornets, eager to catch the first drop of blood.

"Let them come," I growled.

I stepped in front of Asher, my hands circling as I pulled the heat from the very air.

"I'm tired of playing defense."

I unleashed a wave of white-hot fire, a roaring tide that hit the ceiling and washed over the nesting serpents.

The smell of burning scales and scorched stone filled the corridor, accompanied by a chorus of high-pitched shrieks. As they fell, charred and writhing, Asher moved through the smoke.

He was a symphony of slaughter.

Every time a serpent tried to strike from the shadows, a blade was already there, severing heads with surgical precision.

He moved with me, around me, our bond a humming wire of instinct. I didn't have to look;

I knew where he was. I knew when to duck so he could vault over me, and he knew when to pull his shadows back so my flames could roar.