Page 328 of House Ignis

Zya materialized from the shadows behind the stone bear, her body a coiled ribbon of darkness that swallowed the light.

The wielders turned, panic flashing across their faces, but Asher was already there. His blade was pressed to the Fire wielder's throat, shadows crawling up his arms like living ink.

"Outmatched," he said quietly, "but I’ll let you try."

The Earth wielder lunged, jagged rocks shooting from his hands. I dodged, spun with fire licking my palms, and slammed a flame burst into his chest.

He flew back, coughing as he hit a tree. The Fire wielder retaliated, his heat colliding with mine midair—a roaring clash of gold and red.

The explosion lit the trees in a blinding strobe.

For a second, I couldn’t see—then a fist cracked across my jaw. Pain bloomed, sharp and white-hot, sending me reeling.

I staggered, tasting the metallic tang of blood.

Asher froze. His eyes went black.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice dropping to a frequency that chilled my marrow.

“Asher—” I snapped, reaching out to catch his arm before he unleashed the absolute hell simmering behind his eyes. “He’s mine.”

He met my gaze, the tension coiled so tight I thought he might snap the very air between us.

He searched my eyes for a fraction of a second, seeing the fire already roaring there, and then he nodded once—a sharp, jagged movement.

I turned back to the Fire wielder, spat a mouthful of copper-tasting blood onto the moss, and let a slow, predatory smile spread across my face. “Let’s dance.”

He came at me again, wild and untrained, fueled by a desperation that made him sloppy.

I ducked under his heavy swing, the heat of his fist singeing the air above my head.

I caught his wrist in a grip of iron and drove my knee upward into his gut. He gasped, the air leaving his lungs in a wet wheeze. Before he could recover, I twisted, grabbed his collar, and sent a concentrated pulse of white-hot fire straight into his chest.

He hit the ground hard, smoke curling from his scorched armor as he wheezed into the dirt.

“Stay down,” I growled, my palms still smoking.

Behind us, the chaos of the boundlings was reaching its end. Aether had the molten boar pinned to the earth, his black, flame-tipped claws at its throat, while Zya held the stone bear’s head in her massive jaws, her silver eyes gleaming like molten metal.

The forest echoed with their low snarls and the crackle of dying magic until both boundlings shimmered, their forms collapsing into a desperate retreat—defeated.

The enemy bracelets flared a brilliant, final crimson. Two gone. Sixteen left.

Asher was at my side in a heartbeat, his hand finding my chin and tilting my head up.

His thumb brushed over the split in my lip, tracing the smear of blood there.

He froze.

The air between us thickened, something primal and ancient unfurling under his skin.

His pupils blew wide, the black swallowing the silver until he looked entirely other.

For a heartbeat, he just stared, his breath coming in rough, jagged hitches, like every ounce of his restraint was a thread about to snap.

“Asher—” I started, but he was already there.

His mouth crashed into mine—hot, consuming, and utterly desperate. The kiss was fire and possession.