Page 25 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

“I think she’s trying to pretend that everything is normal,” Pete said. “Maybe I can help her.”

Zarek’s hands flexed at his sides as the frown grew at the idea of any male near her—human or otherwise—without his presence.

The instinct was primitive.

Mine! The thought rose so fast it shocked him, that his spine went rigid.

Martar’s amusement vanished in an instant, his posture straightening as if he’d sensed the shift without understanding it.

Zarek forced the word down into the dark place where unwanted impulses went to die, and only then did he slowly turn back, keeping his expression controlled.

“You have permission,” Zarek said pronouncing every syllable, “to answer what she asks you, within reason.”

Pete’s shoulders eased, relief flickering across his features.

“But,” Zarek continued, stepping closer until Pete had to tilt his head back to meet his gaze. The air pressure spiked, as heat coiled beneath Zarek’s skin like a slumbering beast that was awakening.

“Zarek…” Martar was on his feet now.

Zarek’s focus never left the professor. “Be warned. If you frighten her, if you dare try to manipulate her, or touch her without consent…” A hungry heat surged inside his chest like a caged dragon clawing for release. Zarek clenched his jaw to contain it. “You will answer to me.”

Pete went pale and broke eye contact.

No one held Zarek’s gaze for long. Looking too deeply carried consequences.

Normally, Zarek could read minds. Edit them. Strip memories away as cleanly as breath. Except hers.

And touch? Touch was worse. His kind were not made for mortal skin. His power scorched. Burned. Ended things.

No. It was best he stayed away from Angela Duboise. Not because he wanted to, but because one mistake from him would destroy her. And that was a line he would never cross.

ELEVEN

The Bone & Whistle lodged itself half a step within the mortal realm. To human eyes, it was just another narrow bar wedged beside a Thai takeaway, with its quirky sign and dim windows. But to those who knew better, it was a sanctuary.

Glamour wrapped over the place like a second skin, muting the noise of the street, bending sight and sound away from curious outsiders. Inside, the air hummed with familiar power. As one of the many carefully disguised Veyllgates that led back to Paradox, all forms of magick roamed freely behind closed doors for the many Paradox natives who visited.

Zarek leaned against the bar, facing the shelves stocked with bottles no mortal brewery could replicate. Homeland spirits. Imported realm ales. And a few experimental witchy blends that smelled faintly of ash and honey.

Normally, Zarek didn’t mind them, but tonight he hadn’t touched his glass.

Martar was already on his second. “So, what’s wrong with you?”

Zarek shot him a look. “Nothing.”

Martar snorted. “You growled at a harmless professor and nearly set the air on fire. That’s not nothing.”

Zarek downed his drink and signaled for another.

Wearing a bored expression, the bartender topped it up without a word. No questions were ever asked at the Bone & Whistle.

“You’ve never cared about mortals before,” Martar continued. “Not like this. And now you want to know everything about this female.”

“She’s not meant to remember me,” Zarek said flatly.

“Angela. Her name is Angela.”

Of course, he knew her name. But saying it felt… wrong. Like stepping over a line he couldn’t cross. “Her memory should have been wiped,” he repeated. “It wasn’t.”