EMBER’S POV

“Because the last time they were free, you tried to take my eyes out.” A smile, wry, almost self-deprecating. “I adore your fire, querida. But I’d like to keep my vision.”

“What if I promise to behave?”

The words hang between us and I watch what it does to him — his pupils dilate, his breath catch, the careful composure wavers just enough for something vulnerable to show through.

He wants this. Goddess, he wants this so badly — the willing version, the choosing version, the Ember who sits across from him at dinner and smiles and touches him because she wants to and not because her wrists...