Page 29 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

“I have nothing,” I said. “I have a cage decorated with silk and shadow.”

He gripped my wrists with his left hand, while his right traced along my collarbone, down to where my pulse hammered—not with desire, but with desperate fury. His green eyes stared directly into mine, searching for something he couldn’t name.

“Stop pretending,” he growled against my throat, his lips barely grazing my skin where my pulse thundered with rage, not want. “Stop lying to yourself. You still respond to me.”

“I respond to threats,” I corrected coldly, painfully aware of his confusion, the way he seemed to be fighting his own actions. The binding between us pulsed with dark energy, but from my side, it carried only protective fury—the fierce determination of someone with everything to lose.

My heart hammered wildly, but not from desire. It was the desperate rhythm of a caged animal, of someone who needed to get home to what mattered most. His presence overwhelmed my senses, but only because it represented everything standing between me and freedom.

"You see, Ada," he whispered, his tone rough with something that might have been confusion rather than hunger, "you can fight all you want, but something still connects us. Something I can't understand anymore."

Despite everything—the pain, the betrayal, the years of separation—my body recognized him, yes. But recognition wasn't desire. It was memory, and memory could be a weapon, too.

"You're delusional," I managed to say, my voice steady with cold purpose. "This proves nothing except that you're still an arrogant bastard who mistakes fear for consent."

This proves nothing except that you’re still an arrogant bastard who mistakes fear for consent.”

“Fear?” he challenged, his free hand sliding down to rest on my hip, but the movement seemed mechanical, uncertain. “Is that what this is?”

“Terror,” I corrected. “Terror of what you’ve become. Terror of what you might do.” I met his gaze directly. “Terror that I might never get back to the life I built after you destroyed the first one.”

Something in my tone made him go very still. “What life?”

The binding between us pulsed, and I felt his sudden sharp focus, his attempt to probe deeper into what I was hiding. But I’d had years to build walls, to protect what mattered most.

“My life,” I said simply. “The one where I don’t have to pretend you exist.”

Before he could respond, light magic exploded outward—not the conflicted burst of someone torn between love and hate, butthe clean, fierce power of someone with everything to protect. Raw, untamed power born of maternal fury and desperate determination. He absorbed most of it, but enough got through to make him hiss in pain and stagger backward.

Instead of backing away farther, he tightened his grip, but I could see the confusion in his eyes, as if he couldn't understand his own reactions.

“You’ll pay for that, dearest.” His shadows twisted around my wrists, but they felt uncertain, wavering. “Something’s different about you.”

"People change when they have to survive," I said, my tone icy. "A lesson you made sure I learned."

At that moment, a blur of golden fur shot through the passage—Melo, who had been stationed near the eastern wing as our planned backup, waiting to follow if something went wrong. Suddenly Hakan roared in pain when she sank her teeth into his leg, tearing through fabric and flesh alike. Blood darkened his pant leg while my guardian ripped and shook her head, refusing to let go even as he kicked out at her.

“You mangy little—” Shadows gathered around his hand. It condensed into a blade of pure darkness while he prepared to strike Melo, but his movements seemed sluggish, as if he was fighting against his own reflexes.

“NO!” I screamed, desperation giving me strength I didn’t know I possessed.

I twisted free of his momentarily loosened grip and threw myself between them, my light magic blazing with protective fury—not for a lover, but for family. The sudden flare caught Hakan off guard, forcing him to step back when he shielded his eyes from the unexpected brightness.

We faced each other across the narrow passage, both breathing hard. Blood dripped from his leg where Melo had torn through muscle. His eyes had returned to their normal green butheld a complex mixture of fury, confusion, and something that might have been recognition—as if he was seeing me clearly for the first time.

"Touch her," I said, my words deadly quiet, carrying the promise of someone protecting what they loved, "and I will burn you from the inside out. Bond or no bond."

For a moment, I thought he would attack anyway. Then, shockingly, his expression shifted—not to the predatory smile I expected, but to something almost bewildered.

"You're not the same," he said quietly, and his tone carried none of the calculated cruelty from before. "You're…different. Stronger. There's something you're protecting."

“People change when they’re forced to survive,” I replied, and thought of all the nights I’d spent planning, preparing, building the network that kept my most precious secret safe. “You taught me that lesson well enough.”

“What have you been surviving that required such…transformation?”

I met his gaze steadily, letting him see nothing but cold determination. “Your absence. Your betrayal. The wreckage you left behind.”

He straightened, and I watched when that lost expression was buried again beneath layers of shadow and assumed menace, though it felt forced now, like an ill-fitting mask. “This changes nothing, Ada. You’re still bound to me. And the next time you try to run”—his gaze shifted meaningfully to Melo—“I might not be so merciful toward those who help you.”

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