CHAPTER ELEVEN #3
I glanced over at him. He was sprawled with feline arrogance beside Zya.
The two panthers sat side by side—shadows lazily bleeding into one another, a few stray sparks still dancing at Aether's ears.
The sight of them—the ultimate predators of fire and shadow, sitting in a domestic truce—made my chest ache.
"They're actually sitting together without wanting to commit murder," I managed to say between breaths. "I'd give anything to hear the conversations going on between them right now."
"I'd rather not," Asher said, though his grin softened into something almost genuine. "But for what it's worth—Zya's thrilled."
He gestured toward the sleek black panther. Her coat rippled like liquid onyx as she lifted her chin, her expression one of regal, simmering annoyance.
"She looks pissed," I muttered.
"Oh, absolutely," he agreed, his voice dropping into a serious, resonant tone. "But she's also proud to serve her queen." He paused, his gaze intensifying. "And so am I."
That knocked the air right out of my lungs. My heart stuttered, the reality of the soul-tether hitting me with the force of a tidal wave. My cheeks went nuclear.
"This is…" I trailed off, suddenly fumbling for words.
Asher wiggled his eyebrows, the dark playfulness returning in an instant. "Hot?"
"Oh gods, stop." I groaned, swatting at the hard, bare plane of his chest. "Let go of me. I'm starving."
He released his grip immediately, lifting his hands in a mock gesture of surrender.
I stepped off him, my legs feeling like jelly as I found my balance. "Wait... did you just actually obey a command?" I teased, trying to find my footing in this new dynamic.
He huffed, standing up with a fluid, predatory grace. "You don't control me, Princess. But if you ask me nicely…"
The smirk that followed was a godsdamn crime.
I crossed my arms over my sheer bodice. "Do you ever not think about sex?"
His expression was pure, unadulterated mischief. "Who said anything about sex?"
"Right." I rolled my eyes, turning away to hide the smile tugging at my lips. "I'm already regretting this."
A stray breeze whipped through the temple, the cool air biting against my exposed, sensitized skin. I shivered, the gold threads of my skirt offering no protection.
"Here."
I turned back. Asher was holding out a soft, heavy black robe.
"I figured you'd wear something... revealing," he said, his voice dropping an octave, his silver eyes darkening as they swept over the wreckage of my ritual attire. "So I came prepared."
He draped the robe over my shoulders, his fingers lingering on my collarbone for a heartbeat before he pulled one on himself. The fabric was warm, smelling deeply of him—cedarwood, cold rain, and that wild, metallic scent of shadow magic.
"Come on," he said with a sharp grin, reaching for my hand. "Let's go feed you before you pass out and I have to feel your hunger pangs through the bond all night."
···
You look exhausted,” Asher said behind me, his footsteps heavy and rhythmic against the stone steps.
"I'm fine," I grumbled, my eyelids feeling like they were weighted with lead.
"I could carry you," he added, the offer far too casual. I spun around just to glare at him, my robe fluttering.
"Try it and I'll light your pants on fire."
He raised his hands in mock surrender, his eyes dancing with starlight. "Always so feisty, Princess."
By the time we reached my door, I was practically drooling at the thought of the leftover snacks sitting on my vanity.
I stepped into the room and turned back toward him.
He stood at the threshold, one hand braced high against the frame, his silhouette dark against the dim corridor light.
For a heartbeat, he looked like he wasn't sure whether to stay or go.
Well,” he said, his tone shifting, the playfulness giving way to something quieter.
"I'll leave you to it."
I nodded, crossing my arms tightly over the black silk of the robe, even though my traitorous, newly-minted bond was practically screaming for him to stay. I needed the distance. I needed to breathe without his scent clogging my lungs.
"Strictly business from now on," I said, trying to summon every ounce of regal authority I possessed.
He smirked, that dark, infuriating curve of his lips returning. "Whatever you say, Princess."
He turned to head down the corridor; his shadow stretching long and lean against the stone. Then, his voice came lazily back over his shoulder. "By the way—training tomorrow morning. Early."
I poked my head out, my brow furrowed. "What? Why?"
He didn't even turn around, just kept walking with that predatory grace. "Aegos Trials are approaching, Sparks. You need to be ready. And I'm the only one who can push you hard enough."
And just like that, he disappeared down the spiral stairs, the shadows at his feet curling like obedient hounds.
I shut the door slowly, the click of the latch sounding far too final in the quiet room. I leaned my back against the wood, exhaling a breath I felt like I'd been holding since the Temple.
And then, the bond stirred—a low, humming vibration right above my heart where the sigil rested. It was warm, steady, and achingly familiar.
Gods help my soul; he'd been gone for ten seconds and I already missed him.