Lyra's POV
My breath caught as I jerked away from Ash, the spell between us shattering like glass. My eyes flew open to find myself still wrapped in nothing but a damp towel in the academy's locker room. Ash had stumbled backward as well, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he fought to catch his breath.
His knuckles had gone completely white where they gripped the metal cleaning cart, as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. His other hand moved with desperate urgency to shield the obvious evidence of our interrupted moment. I forced myself to look away from him when a familiar voice cut through the charged atmosphere.
Alaric stood frozen in the doorway between the gym and locker room, his tall frame filling the entrance. His mouth had compressed into a harsh, unforgiving line. Those distinctive white-gold eyes of his seemed to burn with an inner fire, the pupils dilated with unmistakable fury.
