Only he’s not alone.
There’s a girl, blond, pretty, all prim and demure, standing too close.
Is that the fucking girl from Spellcaster 101?
Something vicious coils in my chest.
Hot. Sharp. Teeth bared beneath my skin.
Mine.
The word slams through me before I can stop it. What the fuck? He’s not mine. I don’t want him to be mine. I don’t even fuckinglike him.Not really, anyway.
But watching her touch him makes me want to rip her hand off at the wrist.
Legend’s gaze flicks to me over her shoulder, and the corner of his mouth lifts. He sees it.
Smug bastard.
He says something low to the girl, and she glances back at me, eyes widening slightly. Then Legend nudges his head toward the hall, a silent dismissal.
The girl scatters.
My pulse hammers as Legend straightens, pushing off the wall.He crosses the space between us in three long strides, and before I can snarl, snap, or do something stupid, his hand wraps around mine.
“Jealous?”
“Fuck off.”
His grin widens. “You’re cute when you lie.”
I yank my hand back, but his grip tightens, fingers lacing through mine with a possessiveness that mirrors the rage still simmering under my ribs. He tugs me forward, and the air around us ripples, magic crackling to life.
“Wait—”
Too late.
Everything lurches sideways, reality collapsing into itself, and suddenly we’re tumbling through nothingness. The portal coils around us, freezing and charged, dragging us through space in a stomach-turning blur.
My boots hit stone hard when we land, scraping across the surface, but Legend’s hand catches me, keeping me upright through the dizzying spin.
When my vision clears, we’re somewhere else entirely.
The scent hits first—salt and iron and something ancient. Stone walls rise around us, slick with moisture, and torchlight flickers against surfaces carved with runes I don’t recognize.
“Where—”
“Your first task.” Legend releases my hand, stepping back to watch me with that same infuriating smirk, though I can’t help but notice the way he forces it to stay in place, a hand shooting out to steady himself when he starts to sway.
Before I can make fun of him, he speaks. “Hope you’re ready.”
The room shifts.
No—shifts isn’t the right word. The roombecomes.
One second, damp stone walls. The next, darkness so thick it eats the torchlight whole. Then color detonates everywhere—shades I can’t name, colors that shouldn’t fucking exist. Purple spilling into gold, electric blue cracking into something that tastes like metal on my tongue.
My breath snags.
