Page 96 of Ashes to Ashes

“They’re not my consorts!”

“Yet,” he adds helpfully.

Three predators materialize from shadow, flame, and starlight—closing on me with the coordinated precision of wolves who’ve finally cornered their prize. Ice-blue eyes, amber fire, and golden warmth all focused on the same target. Me.

Electric current races along my bones as my newly awakened magic reaches for all of them at once, thorns pulsing with recognition and want and something deeper that tastes like destiny.

“Whispen,” I say through gritted teeth as ice-blue eyes lock onto mine from across the courtyard, “I think I’m about to have another crisis.”

“Excellent!” he chirps. “I do so love watching royal romance complications unfold!”

Before I can strangle my soul-keeper, strong arms wrap around me from behind, and Orion’s voice rumbles against my ear. “There you are.”

19

ASH

Orion’s warmthseeps through my skin, and for a moment, I let myself lean into it.

The past few hours feel like surviving a hurricane—combat trial, territorial claiming, accepting a truth that rewrites everything I thought I knew about myself.

But I’m still pissed at him.

“Not ready to talk to you yet.” I step out of his embrace and turn to face him. The hurt that flashes across his face makes something clench like a fist beneath my ribs, but I hold my ground. “What you did was manipulation. Good intentions don’t change that fact.”

“Ash—”

“No.” I stand strong. “You orchestrated that entire scenario without my consent. Set up a test like I’m some prize to be won instead of a person capable of making informed decisions.”

“Ash—”

“You don’t get to touch me like that and then treat me like a fucking child,” I snap, breath still ragged, heat clawing up my throat.

Orion’s jaw tightens. His hand is still gripping my arm—too tight. Too steady.

“You almost died out there,” he growls, words stripped to bone. “Think I’m gonna stand around while you fall apart?”

I shove at his chest. He doesn’t move.

“You don’t get to cage me just because you’re scared.”

His eyes meet mine—dark, unreadable. But there’s heat there. And guilt. And something worse.

“Don’t want to protect you,” he says finally, voice low and raw. “Want to own every part of you so no one else gets the chance to hurt you.”

Air abandons my lungs in a single, violent rush.

“That’s not love.”

“No. It’s not.”

He lets go. The warmth of his hand fades instantly, like losing cover in the middle of a warzone.

His amber eyes flick to my bare feet, my torn clothing, the thorns still faintly visible beneath my skin. “Where’ve you been? Three hours.”

“Processing.” I cross my arms, suddenly aware of how I must look—wild hair, dirt-streaked skin, clothes torn from crashing through underbrush. “Learning things you could’ve told me honestly instead of staging a forest revelation.”

The courtyard temperature plummets so fast my breath turns to mist.

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