The jeep became far too small and far too hot as his breath brushed the shell of my ear. “Fuck, I want you, Rook.”

Desire shot between my legs.

“I guess you’re going to have to be patient.” I hid behind Whisper as I blushed. “However, you’ve now made me very eager to get home.”

His eyes darkened instantly. “Home? You’re calling Ashfall Cliff your home?”

“You’re my home.”

Whisper huffed as Lucien’s hand slid from mine and gripped my thigh, his fingers curling possessively. Lust heated the backseat as his thumb traced slow circles, making my breath hitch. “If you keep saying things like that, I’m going to snap before we even reach the village gates.”

Frost webbed over the back of my knuckles, looking as if I wore a pair of ice gloves. He groaned as he linked our fingers together, palm to palm, pulse to pulse.

Electricity fed through the link, tight and tingly. I shivered as he ran his thumb over the delicate veins of my wrists.

“You have no idea what that does to me...feeling you. Knowing you need me as much as I need you.” Leaning closer, he breathed, “That damn bond isn’t helping either...it’s taking an axe to my self-control and I’m hanging on by a thread.” His mouth hovered over mine. “Kiss me.”

My eyelashes fluttered; my lips grazed—

BEEEEEP!

Uncle Wen leaned on the horn, stomping on the brakes. “What in the heavens?! What is he doing? I almost ran right into him.”

Lucien ripped away from me, his eyes locking on the roadblock.

An old man stood in the middle of the narrow road, his chest heaving as if he’d run to intercept us. Barefoot with his trousers rolled up to his knobbly knees, his hands were covered in soil as if he hadn’t had time to dress or wash.

His gaze locked onto Lucien. His white-streaked hair blew in the breeze, and he took one step toward the jeep before his knees gave out and he kowtowed in the middle of the road.

“Now what is he doing?” Uncle Wen unclipped his seatbelt. “I’ll go and make sure he’s okay.”

“I’ll do it.” Lucien opened the door and climbed out before anyone could stop him. Whisper growled as his master moved toward the old man bowing with his forehead pressed to the dusty road. The faintest tendrils of steam appeared from his shoulder blades.

I went to join him without thinking.

“Stay here, Whisp.” Darting out of the jeep, I caught up to Lucien, my borrowed blue dress slightly too long and trailing behind me.

Lucien bent to help the man up, but the moment he touched his shoulder, the elderly villager shot upright and grabbed Lucien’s hand.

The air shifted.

The gravel beneath Lucien’s boots smoked.

My body reacted instantly.

The hem of my dress crystallised, stiffening as ice conjured from nowhere. Cold lashed outward to counter him, meeting his heat in a crackling hiss that made the old man wobble on his knees.

Lucien tried to break the man’s hold on him, but he scrambled to his feet, clinging to Lucien with both hands. “Luxin? Master Luxin?”

Lucien nodded, his blazing fingers curling around the man’s wrist. Gritting his teeth, he plucked his hold off him. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s dangerous to play in the road?”

The old man gasped, shaking so badly he almost fell back down. “I...I need to talk to you.” Shooting a panicked glance around the busy village, he winced at the happy children, almost sobbed at the young adults making lanterns for their lost ones, then grabbed Lucien as if his heart had given out. “I’ve been waiting twenty years. I knew an Ashfall would return. I knew it would be you. You have to listen to me. Have to trust me. Please.”

Another waft of heat came off Lucien as he disengaged again and stepped away. “What’s wrong? Why are you in such a state?”

The old man’s eyes filled with frantic desperation. “Please.” Backing toward the small pathway where he’d come from, he put his dirty hands together in prayer. “Please come. You must come. Please? But not here.” His gaze darted to the convoy—to Uncle Wen and Dillon who stood beside the vehicles with questions on their faces. “Not in front of them. Just you. Only you.”

Lucien didn’t answer, but I felt his control fraying.

Fire coiled beneath his skin like a dragon straining at its cage. The air around him shimmered, distorting the sunlight, just as hairline cracks splintered the road as if the earth itself couldn’t bear his power.

The old man stiffened, staring at the heat bending light around Lucien’s shoulders.

We both tensed to see how he’d react but...there was no surprise in him. No fear. He merely sagged with weary confirmation as if his long wait was finally over. “Please...” He held up his hands again. “Please come with me. Let me speak.” Staggering toward Lucien, he tried to grab him again, only for Lucien to jerk back.

A pulse shot through my heart—the bond delivering echoes of Lucien’s dislike at being touched by strangers.

Without looking in my direction, Lucien extended his hand to me. The tips of his fingers glowed, barely there but growing worse each moment I didn’t touch him.

I went to him.

The moment my ice-laced hand slid into his, he shuddered.

The frost inside me arrowed into him like a dart, delivering an antidote to the flames poisoning him.

Inhaling sharply, his fingers crushed mine. “Just tell me here—”

“No, no, no.” The old man shook his head. “Not here. It can’t be here.” He flinched as he looked at the Snowflake Corp guards. “Just you.”

“I’m not going anywhere without her.” Lucien tugged me to his side. “If you want to talk to me, you’ll talk to both of us.”

“Fine.” The old man took off, hobbling toward the path between the two buildings. “That’s fine. More than fine. Come. Hurry.” He disappeared into the shadows and Lucien shot me a look.

“Do we go?” he asked quietly.

“You kind of already agreed.”

He grunted with annoyance.

“Xiao Lu?” Uncle Wen called as we stepped toward the shadowy alley. “Where are you going?”

“Rook?” Dillon shouted. “Wait. I’ll come with you—”

“No need,” Lucien huffed. “Stay here.”

He dragged me between the buildings, and shadows swallowed us whole.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

“STAY CLOSE TO ME.” I SQUEEZED Rook’s hand.

I hated how much I needed her—how much I relied on her to stop me from accidental mass murder. Really, I should’ve mastered my temper before stepping into public.

I was still too used to walls and silence to be safe in a busy village. The noise. The press of bodies. The stink of sweat and life. It all scraped against my nerves until the fire roared for peace.

Going to Brimstone this soon was also a mistake, but...Marcus’s silence irritated me. He was up to something. And before he had the chance to bring a battle to me, I intended to bring it to him—along with carving out his heart and barbecuing it for Whisper.

“I’ll make sure you don’t incinerate the poor chap by mistake,” Rook whispered as we chased after the old man who was far faster than he appeared.

The labyrinth of pathways between the buildings took us deeper and deeper into the village. Smells of cooking and snatches of conversation surrounded us as we wove around homes before spilling out into a common area. A communal eating table, drinking well, and ancient temple sat proudly in the sun.

Beckoning us to follow, the old man stepped through the open metal gates of the temple and vanished inside.

Rook and I slowed as we studied the place of worship. The timber had gone silver with age, the tiled roof sagging in the centre. Red lanterns swung from the eave corners; their tassels dull and frayed from bad weather.

Neither of us spoke as we climbed the three steps and entered the gloomy space.