Ink's POV
They say Scorpios are poison.
They're wrong.
Scarlett is the antidote you wish you hadn't swallowed.
It starts at the banquet.
I'm not supposed to be here — not with half my braid still singed and the council murmuring behind silk fans about how "unstable" I've become.
But I show up anyway.
Head high. Boots dirty. Fire flickering behind my eyes.
She finds me first.
Of course she does.
Scarlett slides in beside me like she belongs there — draped in black, eyes gleaming like carved garnet.
Her dress clings like a promise she doesn't intend to keep.
"Dragon," she says, voice low and sharp. "You look... contained."
I sip from my glass, hating how my pulse answers her before I do.
"You look like a threat."
Her smile is all teeth. "Flattery? I'm touched."
She leans in — too close — her shoulder brushing mine.
Casual to anyone watching.
But I feel the spark leap between us like something alive.
"Careful," I say.
"Always," she lies.
The room blurs around us.
Leah is somewhere across the hall, still trying to look like she's not watching me.
My parents are deep in talks with the Aries ambassador.
The Scorpios drink like they know something no one else does.
And then I make the decision.
I don't remember standing.
Only that she follows.
We find the alcove like fate placed it there — behind a velvet curtain, barely wide enough for two bodies pressed too close.
Her mouth crashes into mine like a secret that waited too long.
It's not gentle.
It's not slow.
Her lips taste like dark wine and something colder — ancient, bitter, real.
I don't know who kisses harder — her, or me.
Her hands are at my waist. My back. My throat.
Mapping. Claiming.
I let her.
I want her to know what fire feels like before it burns her.
Clothes shift — not off, not fully — just enough.
Enough to feel the heat of skin against skin.
Enough to feel her breath catch against my collarbone.
Enough for her to whisper, "Tell me to stop."
I don't.
I pull her closer, fingers tangled in her hair, dragging her down with me.
She presses me against the wall — thigh between mine, lips trailing fire down my jaw, over my pulse.
I bite back a sound I've never made before — something desperate and raw.
She smirks against my skin like she owns it.
"So the dragon does feel."
"More than you'll ever understand."
"Then show me."
I do.
We don't speak for a while after that.
Just move like something lit us both from the inside — slow and reckless, tangled in each other's heat.
It's not love.
It's not even like.
It's war.
And I lose.
When it's over, she sits beside me, legs tangled in her skirt, spine arched like she's still in control.
I face the wall. I don't let her see my eyes.
"You're dangerous," she says softly.
"I know."
"And stupid."
I snort. "Also true."
She leans in again, lips brushing my ear like a threat.
"You'll come back to me."
"I won't."
"We both know that's a lie."
I don't answer.
Because I already know what's worse than the fire.