The Hollow was alive tonight, vibrating with an energy that hummed beneath the surface of the earth. The shadows stretched long, stretching like claws from the ruins, ready to grasp at any who dared step too far from the light.
Vex had been waiting for him, though not consciously. She had already marked him—hadn't meant to, had never intended for it to happen, but Agni had other plans. Now, there was no denying the connection. She could feel it deep in her blood, every beat of her heart thrumming with it. He was hers.
But she hadn't thought about that part.
Her thoughts were a chaos of hunger, fire, and unfinished business, as she stood at the edge of the room, gazing out at the desolate expanse. The power of the Hollow surrounded her like an embrace, filling her veins with molten heat. The room was silent, save for the crackling of the flame-lit torches on the walls. Yet, there was a feeling in the air, the hairs on her neck rising, that told her something had shifted. Something was about to change.
The air grew heavier, warmer—electric. Her instincts, honed and sharp, told her he was near.
The door opened.
Rhydir Velgrave stood there, his long frame framed by the darkness. His silver eyes gleamed in the low light, a storm of emotions swirling behind them. His posture was lazy, like he didn't have a care in the world, but Vex knew better. There was something about the way he entered the room—something predatory, like a wolf surveying its territory.
A smile curled on his lips. That same damn smile that made her blood boil.
She let her gaze sweep over him, taking in every detail. He had removed his armor, but there was a fluidity to the way he moved that suggested he could tear it off in a heartbeat if need be. His long, dark hair was loose, falling over his shoulders in waves, and that silver gaze of his—those damn eyes—caught her in a way that made her heart skip. She didn't need to guess. He knew what he was doing.
"You're a sight," he said, his voice low, smooth like velvet and dripping with amusement. His eyes glinted as he looked her over, as though he could feel the tension in the air, too.
Vex didn't respond right away. Instead, she took a step forward, her heels clicking against the stone floor. The movement was deliberate, slow—seductive, even. She'd learned how to use her body, how to move with power and grace, a deadly beauty that made every man in her presence forget themselves.
"Did you miss me, Rhydir?" she asked, her voice smooth but dangerous, the words slipping off her tongue like a promise.
He smirked, his eyes narrowing. "I could've sworn I just saw you yesterday." He stepped closer, the distance between them closing as if it were nothing. His body was warm, radiating a heat she hadn't forgotten. "But it seems you've been keeping yourself busy, haven't you?"
She tilted her head, catching his gaze with a daring, fiery look. "I've been doing what I do best," she said, the words laden with meaning. Her lips parted slightly, her smile lingering—so much more than just a smile. "What about you, Rhydir? I assume you've been busy too."
His grin widened, revealing sharp, dangerous teeth, and the playful flicker in his eyes turned to something darker, something that ignited the air between them. "Oh, I've been doing a bit of…research," he said, his voice a whisper now, each word heavy with intention. "I wanted to know what it is that makes you so… irresistible."
She could feel it—the shift in the atmosphere. The sparks that always hovered between them had suddenly flared into something much stronger. The sexual tension was so thick she could practically taste it on her tongue.
Vex took another step, just inches away from him now. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, the undeniable pull of his presence. This was no game. She wasn't going to play coy anymore.
She reached up, brushing her fingertips lightly over his chest, feeling the heat radiating from beneath his leather armor. His breath hitched ever so slightly, but he didn't move. Not yet.
"Tell me," she whispered, her voice lowering, dangerous and sultry, "What are you really here for? Information? Or something… more?"
Rhydir's eyes darkened, a brief flicker of something predatory passing through them. His hand slid from his side, almost lazily, but with precision. Before she could react, his fingers were on her wrist, tightening just enough to make her realize how much control he had.
"Maybe a little of both," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear just enough to send a shiver down her spine. "But I've learned a lot, Vex. More than I think you've realized."
Her pulse quickened, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. He was close—too close—and yet she didn't want him to pull away. Not now, not ever. There was something intoxicating about the way he made her feel—this fire in her blood that wanted more than just his presence.
"What did you learn?" she breathed, her voice thick with challenge.
He let his hand drift from her wrist, sliding down to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. "I learned that you've changed. You're not the woman I once knew. No… you're something much more dangerous now."
Her heart skipped a beat. He wasn't wrong. She'd changed. She wasn't the innocent girl she'd once been—broken by betrayal, by loss. She was something else now. She had to be.
Vex looked up at him, the fire in her eyes matching the one burning through her veins. "I'm not the woman you knew," she agreed, her voice dripping with defiance. "But you're right about one thing, Rhydir. I am dangerous. And you? You're the one who's come too close to the flame."
His lips curved into that same, devil-may-care smirk. "I'm not afraid of fire, sweetheart," he said, his voice roughening. "I'm more concerned about getting burned."
Before she could respond, Agni's voice flickered in her mind, sharp and insistent.
Mark him.
She didn't mean to kiss him.
It wasn't planned, it wasn't logical—it defied every sharp instinct she'd honed since dying and clawing her way back to life. But gods, there was something about him. Something in the way his voice scraped over her nerves like velvet over a blade. Something in those silver eyes that refused to flinch when locked with her own.
They stood inches apart, heat crackling in the thin air between them, the silence louder than any scream.
And then she moved.
Not fast. Not dramatic. Just a tilt of her head. A fraction closer.
His breath hitched—just barely—and his fingers brushed her hip, featherlight, like he didn't trust the moment was real. Her hand came up, fingertips tracing the line of his jaw, slow, reverent. She could feel the tension in him—the restraint. He could crush her if he wanted. But he didn't move.
She kissed him like a queen claiming her throne.
It wasn't a devouring thing. Not yet. It was quiet at first, a brush of lips that tasted like heat and storm and inevitability. His mouth was warm, maddeningly so, and when he exhaled against her skin, it sent a shiver down her spine.
He didn't pull her in.
She took him.
Her fingers tangled in his hair—gods, it was soft—and she deepened the kiss, parting her lips with the kind of deliberate hunger that said she could burn the world, and maybe, just maybe, she'd start with him.
And still, he didn't stop her.
Instead, he stepped into her fire.
One hand gripped her waist, firm and sure, the other sliding up her spine, anchoring her as though she were the one in danger of falling. Their mouths moved in sync—rough and slow, daring and desperate. Like they were breathing life into each other. Like the kiss wasn't enough and too much all at once.
His lips were skilled—no clumsy fumbling, no hesitation. He kissed like a man who knew how to destroy and seduce in the same breath. And yet, when he tilted his head just so and pulled her deeper—gods, she felt it—that flicker of surrender he gave only to her.
Something inside her snapped.
Power. Old and wild and burning. It surged through her chest, her limbs, her tongue. She broke the kiss with a gasp, the world spinning slightly. Her heart pounded. Her eyes glowed.
And then it happened.
The mark. Her mark. This time
Etched itself into him like flame kissing parchment. Not visible, not yet—but she knew. So did he.
His chest rose and fell rapidly, silver eyes blazing as he stared down at her. "What… did you do?"
Vex, breathless, lips parted, only smirked. "I didn't do anything," she whispered. "You just happened to kiss the wrong girl."
Or maybe the only one worth kissing.
He blinked, lips twitching into a grin so devastating it could raze kingdoms. "Or the right one."
"You marked me? Again?" Rhydir asked, incredulous, but—smiling?
"I didn't mean to. It's… the flame. It acts on instinct." She sounded annoyed. At herself. At Agni.
He tilted his head, fingers brushing the faint heat of the mark. "So… what does that mean? Are we properly married now?"
She glared.
He laughed.
Gods, she hated that she liked the sound of it.
Rhydir leaned back against the wall, still casual, still fearless. "So let me get this straight. You rose from the dead, took control of corrupted flame magic, claimed the Hollow… and now you're collecting pretty boys?"
"I will end you," she said, stalking toward him again.
He didn't move.
"I bet you will," he murmured.
She was too close. He was too calm. And for a moment—just a moment—they weren't assassin and target.
They were something else. Two broken, dangerous things orbiting the same gravity.
"You should leave," she said quietly.
"You should make me."
She didn't. Couldn't. Something about him—his silver eyes, his maddening grin, his refusal to look at her like she was anything less than divine—froze her.
This man… wasn't afraid of her.
He saw her. And worse—he liked what he saw.
Her lips parted. A thousand things she could've said. None of them came.
Then he reached out. Slow. Gentle.
He tucked a strand of blood-red hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her jaw.
"Next time," he said, voice low, "warn a man before you brand him. I might've dressed up for the occasion."
Then he turned. Walked away. Just like that.
She stared after him, heart pounding.
Bastard.