Page 322 of House Ignis

A massive, angry bruise—a deep, mottled palette of blue and violet—stretched from the base of my neck down to the top of my spine. It looked like a storm cloud trapped under my skin.

I sighed, meeting Asher’s eyes in the reflection. He looked ready to murder the world.

"It’s part of whatever this is inside me," I said softly, gesturing toward the fresh white bandages on my leg. "I fall hard, I bruise hard. I cut."

He breathed out hard through his nose, his jaw tight. "So your body isn't healing? Not at all?"

"Sometimes I do," I explained as he helped me slide the leathers off my arms. "But most of the time, when there's too much magic used... it's like the power fights itself. It attacks my own system instead of fixing it."

His jaw clenched so hard I thought it might snap. "Let's take the rest off."

He helped me stand, peeling the heavy trousers down. He held the blood-soaked, grime-crusted gear with just his fingertips, a ghost of a chuckle breaking through his grimace.

"Gods, we need to burn these."

"Well," I said, a small, tired smile tugging at my lips as I motioned for him to turn around. "Your turn."

He complied, a wicked glint in his silver eyes. I reached for his zip, watching the way his back muscles flexed and rippled under the soot. With my free hand,

I traced a slow line down the dip of his spine. Goosebumps erupted across his skin instantly.

He turned back to me, helping me finish the task, and as the last of the fabric hit the floor, my eyes dipped. He was more than ready for me.

He hauled me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, but I let out a sharp wince as his hands pressed firmly into the bruise on my back.

"Fuck, I'm sorry—" he murmured, his hands hovering, looking uncharacteristically lost.

"I'm fine," I said, my gaze hardening. I didn't want to be fragile right now.

He just nodded, his expression unreadable, and carried me into the shower.

The moment the hot spray hit my skin, my head fell back. I felt the grit and the blood and the memory of Jeremy’s face washing down the drain. I felt Asher’s stare, heavy and constant, and I looked up.

"What is it?" I asked, my hands moving through his hair to wash out the dried filth.

"You are stubborn, you know that?" he said. I felt the anger flare through the bond—hot, sharp, and seething.

"What?"

"You heard me, Ava. Your body is telling you to fucking slow down and you’re not listening to it." He was actually angry now, his eyes dark with it.

My own temper boiled over. I rolled my eyes, and that was clearly the final straw.

He gripped my thighs, a low growl in his throat, and helped me down to my feet. He grabbed the soap, his movements furious as he started scrubbing the grime from my arms.

"Asher—" I whispered. I could feel the conflict roaring through the bond. Since we’d been back, he’d been so open, so raw with me, and I’d been keeping the extent of my illness in the dark. "I understand you're trying to protect me. I just hate being a burden."

"Ava, like I’ve said before, we’re a team," he snapped, dropping to his knees to scrub the dried blood from my legs. The sensation of his rough hands sent a frantic chill down my spine.

"Your burdens are mine. We are literally fucking blood-bonded for life."

His gaze snapped up to mine, fierce and unyielding. Even with the steam and the anger, I could feel the heat shooting through the bond—a confusing, electric mix of fury and desire. His face was mere inches from my folds as he worked.

"Ava, I'm fucking serious," he growled, scrubbing harder at a stubborn patch of dirt.

"I know, I'm sorry," I said, the truth finally tumbling out. "I just... I didn't tell you because I was worried you only loved me because of the bond. Because of the hold it has on us."

He stopped scrubbing. The silence in the shower was absolute, save for the rhythmic pelt of the water.