CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
We drank. And then we drank some more.
Gods, it felt good to be alive.
The music tent pulsed with a raw, kinetic magic, the bass thundering through the ground like a collective heartbeat.
A DJ spun shadows and starlight into sound, weaving a melody that made the whole arena writhe in a sea of sweat and glitter.
Asher's hands were all over me. His teeth grazed the sensitive cord of my neck, shadows sliding like silk against my thighs as his body pressed flush against mine. I ground back into him, drunk on victory and alcohol, his palms sliding beneath the hem of my skirt.
"Gods, darling," he murmured into my skin, his voice sounding utterly wrecked.
I spun in his arms and kissed him, tasting the danger on his tongue. He kissed me back just as hard, leaving me breathless.
"Get me a drink, Dark One."
His grin was wicked, that single dimple cutting deep into his cheek. "Anything for you, my queen."
I watched him saunter toward the bar, that perfect stride making me bite my lip.
Shadows ghosted around him as the crowd parted in his wake.
Shaking myself free of the spell he cast, I staggered toward the lounge where the girls were draped across velvet cushions, drinks already in hand.
"Ava, come play! We're playing spin the bottle," Maddy called out. Her hair was a beautiful mess, and there was a wicked gleam in her eye that usually spelled trouble.
I glanced back toward the bar. Asher was still in line, deep in conversation with Mavrik. Perfect.
"Sure, why not," I grinned, the alcohol swirling hot and heavy in my blood.
I collapsed into the seat beside Ember. Her eyes were locked on Ezra across the table, tension humming between them like a challenge neither was willing to back down from.
Maddy, on the other hand, was already perched on Ryven's lap.
His ocean-blue eyes were darker than usual, maybe from the drink or maybe from the way he held Maddy like he never intended to let go.
"So, who's next?" I asked, waving my glass lazily toward the dance floor.
Ember smirked and pointed. There was Zaria, tongue-deep with some third-year Riftball player who was clutching her like he'd just won the sun.
"Gods," I laughed, shaking my head.
And then I felt it. That scent—smoke, rain, and unrelenting shadow.
Asher.
He appeared behind me, sliding a cold glass into my hand. His lips brushed the side of my throat, sending a fresh jolt of electricity through me.
"Thank you, my love," I murmured. He let out a low groan against my skin, his hands settling on my shoulders.
"Playing?" he asked, his silver eyes devouring me the moment I turned to face him.
"Yeah." I leaned in, my grin turning wicked. "Wanna play with us?"
His expression sharpened, becoming something truly devilish. "Sure."
But then, through the bond, his voice came—hot, silken, and laced with a warning. "You're playing dangerous games, darling. You know how I get when I'm challenged."
I bit my lip, my pulse tripping.
Good. Let him burn.
Mavrik suddenly appeared, looming over the group with a tray full of amber shots.
"Shots! Yes!" Sera screamed, her pink eyes glowing in the Fae-lights as she snatched one up.
I didn't look away from Asher. Not for a second.
I picked up a shot, held it to my lips, and deliberately licked the salt from the rim—slow, sinful, and focused entirely on him.
Heat flickered in his gaze, his shadows tightening around his fists like he was a second away from losing his control.
"Let's play," I whispered.
And I threw the shot back.
···
The game had gotten downright savage.
Mavrik had ended up as the target for a lap dance from Rhea, and gods, I hadn't known she could move like that—hips rolling, hair flying, her green eyes glinting like emeralds under the strobing lights.
Even the Umbra males, usually so composed, were stunned into a rare silence until the entire tent erupted in a wall of cheers.
Rhea spun the bottle next, and it landed on Maddy. Poor, sweet Maddy.
"To the floor!" Ember cackled, pointing a finger like a vengeful queen.
Maddy wrinkled her nose in disgust but got down anyway, dragging her tongue across the sticky surface of the floor.
We all shrieked and howled with laughter.
Ryven wrapped his arms around her when she hopped back onto his lap, looking mortified and smug all at once as he whispered something into her ear that turned her face ten shades of red.
By then, I was sprawled across Asher's chest, his arms wrapped around me like a cage I never wanted to leave.
He was kissing his way down my neck, each bite a little rougher, a little more demanding than the last. Gods, it was getting harder and harder to draw a full breath.
Maddy spun the bottle again. It landed on Ezra.
The grin that slid across Ezra's face was pure trouble.
He stood and stalked toward Ember with deliberate ease.
When the music shifted into a heavy, grinding beat, he danced. It was a blur of shadows and sweat, hips and hands.
He dropped into her personal space with a grind so filthy and focused that Ember actually let out a small, helpless whimper.
"Holy shit," Sera hissed beside me, her pink eyes wide and glowing.
The dare was to make her writhe, and Ezra nailed it with terrifying precision.
Ember's cheeks burned as she eventually shoved him away, laughing but looking completely wrecked.
He smirked like the magnificent bastard he was and sat back down, smug as a cat in a creamery.
I rolled my eyes, leaning back into Asher's heat.
Then came Ember's turn—her dare was to take a body shot. From a stranger.
She rolled her eyes but went for it with a defiant toss of her hair, choosing some random third-year with abs that looked like they had been carved by the gods themselves.
She leaned down and completed the body shot without hesitation, and the entire tent screamed in a frenzy.
Except Ezra.
His jaw locked into a rigid line.
His shadows were seething, snapping at the air around him like whipcord.
The second Ember came back to the table, flushed and laughing, he lunged.
He grabbed her by the waist and kissed her like he was going to eat her alive, a kiss fierce enough to silence the girls for a split second before they shrieked even louder than the music.
“You Umbra males are very possessive,” I teased through the bond, biting my lip as Asher's shadows tightened around my thigh.
His laugh was like dark silk sliding through my mind. "You have no idea, darling. We don't share what's ours." He kissed me then, hard and deep, until my toes curled against the soles of my shoes.
Ember was just about to grab the bottle for the next round when a sudden, violent gust of wind shoved it.
Ember was just about to grab the bottle for the next round when it suddenly jerked away from her hand.
The glass scraped harshly across the table, spinning until it slowed and pointed directly at the end of our circle.
"Well, well, well. A dare's a dare."
The voice cut straight through the thumping bass.
My head snapped up, the alcohol-induced warmth in my blood turning to ice in a heartbeat.
Jeremy.
He stood at the end of the table, hair a windblown mess, green eyes blazing, a jagged grin carved across his face.
"Jeremy," I breathed.
His eyes didn't leave mine. They were hard, cold, and entirely too familiar. "Ava."
My heart seized.
Fury slammed through the bond, dark and suffocating.
I was still sprawled over Asher's chest, his hand heavy on my thigh.
His fingers tightened in a warning grip, his knuckles turning white as shadows began to coil up my skin, mirroring his rising temper.
Jeremy's gaze tracked the movement, his jaw ticking.
"Sore loser, Eldrethine?" Ryven drawled, his voice dripping with mockery as he leaned back into the shadows of the booth.
Jeremy didn't even look at him, but the muscles in his neck strained.
"You know, if you're looking to mend a broken heart…" Ezra leaned forward, smirking, his sunset-orange eyes gleaming with a cruel mischief. "…you're definitely at the wrong table. Try the losers' lounge."
The air in the tent tightened.
Everyone was watching now—the music seemed to fade into a dull throb as the world narrowed to this circle.
And I knew—gods, I knew—Jeremy hadn't come here to play.
"Enjoying my seconds, are we?" Jeremy drawled, venom dripping from every syllable.
The tent went silent. Two of his teammates stepped up behind him, flanking him like stone sentinels.
My blood boiled. Rage and humiliation clawed through me, sharp enough to choke.
"The fucking nerve," Asher growled through the bond, his shadows twitching with a mind of their own.
But beneath his anger, I felt his reaction to my pain. Jeremy had once been my entire world, and now he'd twisted that history into something ugly.
Asher's jaw ticked. His grip on my thigh tightened almost painfully. A low growl rattled in his chest.
But before Asher could even speak, Ezra shot up from the end of the table.
His chair scraped violently across the ground.
"Say that again, earth prince." His voice was pure, concentrated fire, his eyes glowing with an incandescent heat.
Jeremy's smirk widened, but he didn't back down. He leaned over the table, his green eyes glinting with a suicidal kind of bravery.
"Enough," Asher drawled. His tone was silk over sharpened steel. He didn't even look at Ezra.
“What do you want, Eldrethine?"
Ezra snapped his head toward Asher, fury storming across his features, but Asher lifted a single, commanding hand. It was a gesture of absolute authority.
Ezra froze, seething, but he obeyed. He sat, his jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth.
Jeremy braced his hands on the table, leaning into the spotlight he'd carved for himself. "The bottle landed on me. My turn to dare."
Asher leaned forward, grinning wickedly, shadows coiling across his shoulders.
He raised his glass and took a slow, deliberate sip, his silver eyes never leaving Jeremy's.
"Well, dare me then," he said lazily. And then—just to twist the knife—he reached up, slid my hair off my shoulder, and pressed a lingering, kiss to the sensitive skin of my neck.