CHAPTER THREE #3
Something in my chest cracked open at that. He wasn't trying to own me. He feared losing me. And somehow, that was harder to deal with.
"Jeremy," I said softly, my fingers finding his jaw.
"You're not losing me."
Then his expression shifted, darkening into something more primal. His green eyes burned hotter, and before I could even draw a breath, his hand slid up to cradle my jaw.
His thumb pressed firmly beneath my chin, tilting my head back until I had nowhere else to look but at him.
"Gods," he whispered, his gaze dropping to my lips, then lower. A low, primal growl vibrated in his chest.
"Ava, you're a fucking dream."
My thighs clenched instinctively and my lips parted just as his mouth crashed against mine.
This wasn't the sweet, hesitant kiss of our youth. It was a claim.
A warning to every watching eye in the ballroom.
A promise of what was to come. And gods help me… it felt good to be wanted with that kind of ferocity.
He pulled back, both of us breathless, his forehead resting against mine.
"Gods, I want you," he rasped. "I need you, again."
A violent shiver ran through me.
He was the first person who had ever loved me without conditions or crowns. It cracked something wide open in my chest because, despite everything, I loved him too.
"Tell me you're mine," he murmured against my ear, the words hovering between a plea and a command.
I leaned up, my gaze drifting over his shoulder until it collided with those piercing eyes watching from the shadows. I didn't blink. Instead,
I leaned closer, brushing my lips against the shell of Jeremy's ear.
"I will always be yours," I whispered.
Jeremy's breath hitched—a jagged sound of triumph and need.
His hand fisted in my hair, tugging my head back just enough to expose my throat before his mouth crashed onto mine again. Fierce. Unyielding.
A territorial claim for every soul in the hall to witness, especially the one standing in the dark.
And gods… it felt so dangerously good to be claimed like this.
When the music finally tapered off, Jeremy lingered, pressing one last, firm kiss to my forehead.
"I'd better check on the Terra table," he murmured, his thumb grazing my cheek. "I'm sure they're missing their lead."
I smiled and nodded, though a part of me didn't want to let go of the grounding weight of him. He kissed me once more, his lips soft and lingering against my temple.
"I love you," he whispered.
"I love you too," I whispered back. And I meant it. He was the sun my world had revolved around since we were children. I didn't know any other love.
He caught my hand, brushing his lips over my knuckles, and then he was gone.
He left me standing in the middle of the hall with the taste of him still burning on my mouth and his scent—woodsmoke and an oncoming storm—clinging to my skin.
And, of course, my eyes betrayed me.
My gaze drifted toward the pillars, finding Asher immediately.
He was leaning in the shadows, his eyes raking over me with a predatory intensity, as though he'd already stripped me bare and memorized every curve.
My chest squeezed tight, a different kind of heat pooling low in my belly.
Gods, I needed air.
The walls were closing in, the silk of my gown suddenly feeling like a shroud.
I slipped away before anyone could intercept me, weaving past Ember, who was already laughing brightly with a handsome, auburn-haired male. I pushed through the heavy oak doors and into the night.
The courtyard was a mercy. The air was sharp and cool, cutting through the stagnant heat of the ballroom.
Above, stars glittered like scattered embers across the endless black sky. I wrapped my arms around myself, my heels clicking a rhythmic, lonely staccato against the cobblestone path.
I kept walking until the noise of the hall fell away entirely, until it was just me, the chill of the night, and the relentless pounding of my own thoughts.
Finally. A breath of space to think.
Gods, what am I doing? I was playing a dangerous game, caught between the solid, safe earth of Jeremy and the volatile, seductive shadows of Asher.
I was messing with forces that could tear me apart if I wasn't careful.
Fuck.
"Well, well, well… isn't it, Princess Ava?"
The voice was like a bucket of ice water over my head.
My blood ran cold, and I froze in my tracks, the silence of the garden suddenly feeling very much like a trap. S
lowly, I turned toward the familiar voice, dread sinking like a stone in my stomach.
"Zorian," I breathed.
He stepped out from the deep shadows of the hedgerow, his smirk sharp enough to slice the night in two.
He moved with a predatory grace that was all sharp edges and arrogance.
"You look good," he said, his ocean-blue eyes raking shamelessly over me. "Not your brother's shy little sister anymore."
Revulsion twisted in my gut, thick and oily.
He'd once been Jax's friend until their falling-out revealed exactly what kind of gods-damned creep he really was.
Too smooth. Too close. Too entitled.
He'd always had a way of making my skin crawl, like a slug trail on fine silk.
Gods, I hated him.
"Well," I said coolly, my voice a shard of ice as I took a deliberate step back. "This conversation is already boring me. Goodbye, Zorian."
I turned to walk away, the silk of my skirt rustling against the stone—but his hand shot out with the speed of a striking viper. His fingers clamped around my wrist, his grip bruising.
He yanked me hard, spinning me back until I slammed into the solid, unwelcome heat of his chest.
"Where do you think you're going?" Zorian murmured, his voice dripping like poisoned honey near my ear.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird. I could smell the wine on his breath, mixing with the scent of the sea.
Heat flared in my palms, my own flame itching to break free and scorch the skin from his bones.
"Aether," I called down the bond, my mental voice sharp with alarm.
Nothing.
Only a dull, distant hum, as if a thick wall had been dropped between us. Cold panic crept up my spine, chilling the fire in my blood.
"Get the fuck off me," I snarled, jerking violently against his grip.
His smile vanished, replaced by a cold, hard look that made my breath hitch.
The mask was off, and the monster was staring back. His fingers tightened around my wrist, the pressure grinding bone on bone.
"You Pyresons think you own this continent," he hissed, his face inches from mine.
"But you'll learn, Ava. You're making enemies. And I'm not one to mess with."
I tensed, every nerve in my body screaming for release—when the very air in the courtyard seemed to split open.
Shadows erupted like a localized storm.
Tendrils of ink-black darkness lashed forward with the speed of a whip, coiling violently around Zorian's throat.
They yanked him backward, a move so sudden it nearly took him off his feet, the shadows writhing like living serpents with a hunger all their own.
His eyes bulged, the ocean-blue turning bloodshot in a heartbeat.
He clawed frantically at his neck, his boots scuffing the stone as the shadows tightened with a sickening, silent pressure.
His grip on me broke instantly. He stumbled, crashing to his knees and choking on the sentient dark that refused to let him draw a single breath.
"Ava!"
Ember's scream ripped through the quiet of the courtyard.
My head snapped toward the sound as she sprinted toward me, Luna at her heels. The lynx's fur was blazing molten-bright, sparks scattering across the cobblestones like miniature stars.
Maddy was close behind, Skye's white wings beating the air in sharp, frantic bursts beside her.
Ryven charged in from the opposite side, his jaw set in a lethal line. Above us, Solstice wheeled in a tight circle, his cry splitting the night with furious, echoing caws.
"What the fuck!" Ryven barked, stepping in front of me so fast he was little more than a blur.
His hand flexed, muscles coiling as if he were about to launch himself at Zorian's throat—then he stopped dead.
The shadows around Zorian's neck snapped and hissed, a sound like a thousand vipers. A clear, lethal warning: Stay back.
Then, as quickly as they had arrived, they vanished.
The darkness peeled away in an instant, dissolving into the edges of the courtyard as if the night itself had simply reclaimed its own.
Zorian crumpled to the cobblestones, hacking and heaving, his fingers still clawing at the angry purple bruises already blooming around his windpipe.
I couldn't move. I couldn't even speak. My breath tore in and out of me like I'd been the one strangled.
"Ava, are you okay?" Ryven demanded, stepping closer, a solid wall between me and Zorian's crumpled form.
I nodded. Or maybe I didn't.
The world narrowed to a single point.
Because the shadows weren't finished.
They didn't just vanish; they slid along my calves as they withdrew—slow, deliberate, and chillingly intimate.
They curled around my ankles like curious, phantom fingers, a caress of pure void.
Cold seeped through my skin, bypassing the heat of my own fire. But it wasn't threatening.
It didn't have the jagged, suffocating edge it had used on Zorian. It was aware. Searching.
A tremor rippled through me, starting in my heels and climbing to my throat.
They didn't feel angry anymore.
They felt… attentive. Like they were memorizing the shape of me, mapping the pulse in my veins.
Then, as quietly as they had erupted, they retreated.
The darkness peeled back into the furthest corners of the courtyard until nothing remained but the silver moonlight and our shaken, visible breaths.
No one else reacted to the touch.
Every gaze stayed locked on Zorian as he dragged in air in ragged, wet pulls. But I couldn't tear my eyes from the dark.
I watched the way it had withdrawn with such haunting purpose—the way it seemed to bow to the figure
it revealed standing in the mouth of the stone archway—a silhouette of sharp lines and silver eyes that didn't move a muscle.
I couldn't make myself move toward him. I couldn't make myself look away either.