Page 101

"You do know that I can eat with my hands, right?" Violet said, watching Asher as he lifted a forkful of perfectly twirled spaghetti toward her mouth.

"Mmmhm." Asher hummed in response.

And yet, he didn’t stop feeding her.

Left with no choice, Violet opened her mouth and accepted the food. The way he fed her was almost... tender. His movements were deliberately gentle, almost as if he were playing the role of a doting boyfriend. Almost, being the word.

But Violet wasn’t fooled. This was just a fleeting moment, a fragile truce.

Come tomorrow, they’d be back at each other’s throats.

Asher’s crimes against her were far too severe to be erased by a single kiss.

Even if it was a hot, toe-curling, mind-melting kiss—Oh, shut up already!

Violet cut off the thought immediately, her face heating.

She accepted another mouthful of spaghetti from him, trying to shake the warmth creeping into her chest. After that incident, he had left her alone, only to return later with a tray of food. It had been a simple gesture, but it touched her more than she cared to admit.

The Silvered Court was likely locked at this hour, and she doubted there was anything edible in the vending machines. The fact that Asher had gone out of his way to bring her a proper meal... it made her stomach flutter in ways she didn’t like to acknowledge.

As Asher twirled another forkful of pasta, Violet found herself staring at him.

She imagined what it would be like to have him as a boyfriend.

He was undeniably attractive, charming when he wanted to be, and surprisingly attentive.

If only he were normal, then she might consider challenging Elsie for him.

But then reality crashed in, and Violet shuddered. No. Absolutely not. Asher was trouble incarnate, and she didn’t need that kind of chaos in her life.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Asher asked, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her.

The question caught her off guard, and she blurted, "You do know the kiss doesn’t mean anything, right?" The words tumbled out in a rush, her cheeks heating under his scrutiny.

Asher paused for a moment, his hand holding the fork suspended mid-air. Then, without a word, he resumed feeding her, his expression unreadable.

"You haven’t answered me," Violet pressed, her voice a little sharper now.

"Whatever you say, little queen," Asher replied lazily, his tone dismissive, as though the entire topic bored him.

Violet’s eyes narrowed at once. She knew Asher better than to take that response at face value. He was the type to twist her words, to make her regret not nipping things in the bud. She needed to make it clear—crystal clear—that whatever happened between them earlier meant absolutely nothing.

But just as she opened her mouth to speak, Asher chose that exact moment to stuff it full of spaghetti.

Violet glared at him, her cheeks puffed with the unexpected mouthful. It was obvious he’d done it on purpose. Asher, of course, was unfazed. Instead, he reached forward and plucked a stray strand of spaghetti from the corner of her lips. And then, slowly, he ate it.

The move was so effortlessly smooth, so maddeningly sexy, that Violet could only sit there, speechless, her heart hammering in her chest.

The gods have mercy on me, she thought in a daze. This man is going to be the death of me.

Violet decided to let the topic drop, realizing that arguing with Asher would only lead to more frustration. He was too cunning, always twisting her words. When the meal ended, Asher cleared the dishes off to the side and began walking toward her.

Violet’s pulse quickened as she tried to sit up. "I think I’m strong enough to return to my dormitory now," she said nervously, hoping to diffuse whatever he had planned.

But Asher didn’t care. He continued toward her until she was forced to lean back, her head hitting the pillow.

It dawned on her: Asher had intentionally fed her to give her the strength for whatever his plans were. It felt like she was a chicken being fattened up for slaughter. And in this scenario, she was the chicken, entirely at Asher’s mercy.

"Asher...?" Violet’s voice faltered as he leaned over her, his body hovering inches above hers. His haunting, slitted gray eyes bored into hers, making her forget how to breathe. He was so devastatingly handsome that she couldn’t think straight.

Asher’s face drew closer, and Violet’s heart raced. Fine. Just one more kiss, she told herself. Just one more indulgence, and then tomorrow, we’re back to being enemies.

But just as their lips were about to meet, the curtain surrounding her hospital bed was abruptly yanked open. Startled, Violet pushed Asher back and turned to see none other than Alaric standing there, his stormy blue eyes flashing with fury.

"Did you miss your way, thunderboy?" Asher snarled, clearly displeased with the interruption. His expression darkened as he glared at Alaric.

But Alaric ignored him entirely. Instead, he directed his fiery gaze at Violet. "I can see you’re so busy that you forgot about the assignment you’re supposed to be doing with me."

Oh, crap. She had completely forgotten about that.

"Wait, I—" Violet started to say, trying to rise from the bed, but Asher’s hand shot out, pulling her back down onto the mattress.

"She’s busy," Asher declared coldly, his grip on her unyielding.

"No, I’m not," Violet shot back, trying to break free, but Asher refused to let her go.

Alaric’s jaw tightened, his frustration barely contained. Before anyone could predict his next move, he stormed over to the bed, reached down, and scooped Violet into his arms.

"Hey! What the—!" Violet shrieked as she was suddenly airborne.

Asher snarled, furious, and lunged to grab her back. But Alaric, quick to anticipate his move, pulled off one of his gloves and pressed his bare hand against Asher’s wrist, sending a sharp jolt of electricity through him.

Asher let out a yelp, his hand recoiling as the shock forced him to release his grip. His expression was a mix of surprise and pure rage.

"You little—" Asher growled, attempting to retaliate. But when he tried to infiltrate Alaric’s mind, he hit a mental fortress so impenetrable it left him more annoyed.

Realizing he couldn’t break through, Asher let out an irritated huff, his fists clenched in frustration.

Alaric smirked triumphantly, his hold on Violet secure. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the infirmary, carrying Violet like a prize won in battle.