CHAPTER TWELVE
I couldn't sleep.
My heart pulled in opposite directions, tethered to a storm I couldn't escape and yet missing a piece of itself entirely.
"Aether!" I snapped through the bond.
The panther jolted, sliding off the chaise with a heavy thud.
"Ava!" he hissed, tail sparking. "He's on his way. Stop screaming through the thread."
"Who?" But I didn't have to ask. The bond pulled taut, a pulse of shadowed magic winding toward my door like smoke. Three sharp, rhythmic knocks followed.
I opened it to find Asher in a loose black vest and sweats, looking lethally tired. His eyes tracked me as I moved, the black sigil and silver sigil on his collarbone glowing with a faint, steady heat.
"I couldn't sleep," I muttered, stepping aside.
You practically shouted through the bond,” he said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, messy hair falling over his brow. "I figured you were either losing your mind or needed me. Turns out, it's both."
"Did not," I grumbled, though Aether let out a traitorous yawn of agreement from the floor. I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to find some semblance of authority. "We need to talk. Boundaries."
Asher's brow lifted, a dark amusement sparking in his gaze. "Ah, the famous 'boundaries' speech. I'm all ears, Princess."
"This is serious, Asher. We are blood-bound now, and the magic is already messing with my head.
I need space. Control. Rule one: No getting too close. No weird shadow hugs. No lurking."
"Define lurking," he challenged, amusement playing on his lips.
"I know it when I see it! Rule two: No touching. Especially not... sensual touching."
He tilted his head, his voice dropping into a velvet rasp. "So, no brushing hair off your face while whispering sweet nothings? No tracing the line of your jaw?"
"No!" I snapped, my pulse jumping. "Rule three: No kissing. Even if the world is ending. And rule four: No sex. Obviously."
Asher let out a theatrical groan, clutching his heart.
"You drive a hard bargain. You've bound yourself to the most powerful male in Umbra and won't even let him sleep on the edge of the bed?"
"Floor," I pointed. "Mattress is underneath. Blankets are in the chest."
He sighed but helped me pull out the spare mattress. He stripped off his shirt, revealing the sea of shadow-ink swirling across his chest and the sharp, black sigil. I pointedly looked at the ceiling, trying to ignore the way the light played over his corded muscle.
As I climbed into bed and killed the fae lights, the room settled into a heavy, charged silence. I stared into the dark, the weight of the day finally crushing me.
"I didn't say thank you," I whispered, my voice barely a breath. "For saving me from Zorian. Twice. And for... getting me out of going home."
Silence stretched, thick and warm, until I thought he'd fallen asleep.
"Of course, Princess," his voice came from the floor, rough and low. "I wish I'd killed the fuck instead."
I let out a quiet, real laugh. "Good night."
"Good night, darling," he replied.
A cool, soft tendril of shadow drifted up from the floor, curling gently around my ankle. It wasn't a grab; it was a resting weight. A silent, dark vow. Wrapped in his shadow, the storm in my head finally quieted, and I slept.
The bond didn't just hum; it pulled, dragging me into the gray, weeping atmosphere of my own trauma. I was back at the funeral.
The rain was a cold, relentless weight. The scent of wet earth and cedarwood from Jax's coffin clutched at my throat. I stood at the edge of the open grave, my nails drawing blood from my palms as the dark wood was lowered into the dirt.
Then, the shadows beside me shifted.
Asher stood there, soaked to the bone, his black hair plastered to his forehead. He didn't look like a stranger; he looked like he belonged in the wreckage of my past.
"What are you doing here?" I whispered, my voice breaking.
"The bond," he murmured, his silver eyes fixed on the gold inlay of the casket. "I'm tethered to the storm, Ava."
I looked away, wiping rain and tears from my face, but a movement in the treeline caught my eye. Ice-blue eyes. Watching. Cold. I turned to Asher, my heart hammer-hooked in my ribs—
"Ava!"
I jolted awake with a fractured gasp. I wasn't in the rain; I was pressed against a broad, warm chest. I was straddling him, my nightgown damp with sweat, my fingers buried in his shoulders. Asher's silver eyes were wide and wild, mirroring the panic leaking through the bond.
The grief broke over me like a levee. I collapsed against him, sobbing into the crook of his neck. For those minutes, the crown didn't exist. The hierarchy was gone. There was only the girl who had lost her brother and the male who was forced to feel every jagged shard of it.
As my sobs ebbed into shuddering breaths, the physical reality of our position slammed into me. I was flushed against him, my thighs gripping his hips. The friction of my movement pulled a low, guttural hiss from between his teeth.
"Rules," he ground out, his voice wrecked and rough as gravel.
I froze, but the bond was a live wire in my blood—needy, feral, and utterly lost. I shifted again, chasing the heat, my body acting on a hunger I couldn't rationalize.
Asher's hands shot out, pinning my wrists. He sat up slowly, his eyes blazing with a lethal mixture of lust and predatory restraint.
"When I fuck you," he said, his voice a dark, velvet threat against my lips, "it will be when you want me fully. Desperately. When you're begging for the shadows to claim you."
My breath hitched. The sheer, arrogant certainty of it made my head spin.
I scrambled off him like I'd been burned, stumbling back and pressing my hands to my flaming cheeks. "Gods. What is wrong with me?"
Asher rose with the fluid grace of a cat, shadows licking at his bare skin. "Nothing," he said, a wicked, effortless smirk tugging at his mouth. "You're just bonded to someone irresistible."
I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. "I need to get a grip on this bond."
He leaned against the bedpost, the movement making his muscles shift and roll under the lamplight. My gaze betrayed me, dropping to the heavy, unmistakable strain against the fabric of his sweats.
Fuck.
My eyes snapped back to his, but it was too late. He was watching me with a look of pure, dark entertainment, his gaze dropping pointedly to where mine had just been.
"Sure, Princess," he drawled, his voice still thick from the near-miss on the bed. "You let me know how that works out for you."
I wanted to punch him. Right in that perfectly sculpted, shadow-kissed face.
But then he ruined it further, his smirk sharpening into something professional and twice as irritating. "Get dressed. You can blow off some steam in training."
I blinked, the lingering fog of grief and lust momentarily clearing. "Training? Now?"
He tilted his head toward my bedside clock. 5:30 a.m.
I gaped. "You're kidding me. It's practically still night."
"Or," he said, pushing off the bedpost and leaning against the wall with obscene casualness, "would you prefer to crawl back into bed? With me?"
He didn't move, but the visual was a tactical strike: the low-slung sweatpants, the hard ridges of his abs, and the way the morning shadows licked at the bond mark on his collarbone. That smug look said he already knew exactly how fast my heart was hammering.
"Nope," I snapped, spinning on my heel so fast I nearly tripped. "Nope. Godsdammit. No."
I practically sprinted to my dresser, ripping open drawers like my life depended on finding my combat leathers.
Behind me, I heard the low, melodic vibration of his chuckle. "Didn't even have to use shadows for that one."
"Shut up, Maddox!" I yelled over my shoulder, clutching a sports bra like a shield.
"Yes, Princess," he replied, his voice trailing off as he headed toward the door, sounding entirely too satisfied with himself.
I stared at myself in the mirror, cursed by the gods and sleep-deprived.
I was in my Ignis House gear—tight, functional, and far too revealing for a morning spent with the male currently strolling out of my bathroom.
Asher was already in his Umbra leathers, wet hair dripping onto the bond mark that shimmered on his collarbone.
"Stop glaring at yourself," he called from the doorway.
The training hall was empty and cavernous at this hour, our shared House slot a cruel joke by the Academy. Asher walked to the center mat, shadows already pooling beneath his boots. "Come on, Princess."
"What are we even doing here?" I asked, stepping onto the mat.
"Aegos Trials are brutal," he said, arms crossing over his chest. "You need to handle anything."
I barely nodded before—WHUMP.
I was flat on my back, air punched out of my lungs. I glared up at him. "What the—Maddox!"
"Once you're on the mat, we're enemies," he said coolly.
Anger flared in my core, hot and jagged. He felt it through the bond and smirked. "Good. Get angry. Use it."
"You asked for it."
I launched. Flame licked my knuckles as I rolled and fired a blast at his side. He dodged with inhuman speed, shadows curling like smoke. He taunted me, circling, until I landed a fire-enhanced punch that grazed his jaw, drawing a thin trickle of blood.
He retaliated instantly, sweeping my legs, but I twisted midair and landed a kick against his thigh with a satisfying crack. We were predators now, sweat soaking my skin, the bond vibrating through my ribs with every strike.
Then, he moved too fast. A blade of shadow nicked my bicep.
I hissed, hand flying to the cut. Asher froze.
His pupils blew wide, swallowing the silver until his eyes were pits of pure, terrifying onyx. The shadows around him coiled tight, and through the bond, I felt it: a hunger that wasn't human. It was dark, ancient, and electric.
"Asher…?"
He blinked, the silver slamming back into place, and lunged again without a word. We moved back and forth, blood dripping from my brow, his ribs bruised from my strikes. His shirt was gone, and every time I looked at him, the bond screamed.