Splash!
I bolted upright as cold water crashed over me like a damn waterfall. The shock was instant, violent, and very much unwelcome.
It was the kind of cold that made you question your life decisions. The kind that slapped your soul and whispered, "Wake the fuck up."
I gasped, shuddering, my teeth clicking as icy tendrils trickled down my back. My mind was blank—until rage quickly filled the void.
Reflexively, I shot my hand out and grabbed the wrist of the poor bastard responsible.
There was no bucket. Of course not. Why would they use something so normal?
No, this genius had used his damn power to conjure water and pour it directly onto me like I was some houseplant in desperate need of hydration.
My grip tightened. The shuddering didn't stop—too cold.
I cracked one eye open.
And lo and behold…
Squirming in my grasp like a guilty wet rat was none other than Art.
'Of fucking course it was this jester of a human being.'
I scowled, gripping his wrist tighter.
