Chapter 142
The temple is quiet except for the soft burble of the river that winds its way through the room I’ve wandered into. I don’t remember breaking away from the group, but I do recall the overwhelming need to be alone with my thoughts.
And so, here I am. Where that is, I’m not sure, but it’s nice as far as ancient, decrepit rooms go.
A waterfall spills from the far wall, the sound echoing like a heartbeat in the vast, stone space. I sit down at the edge of the flowing water, staring at the shimmering pool it forms below. My chest feels tight, as though the weight of the whole mountain has settled on me.
The thought of what’s coming—the ritual, the trial, whatever it is they’ve planned—feels too much. I try to focus on the cool mist spraying from the waterfall or the gentle current lapping against the stone edge, but it doesn’t help. Worry festers, clawing at the edges of my mind until it becomes terror. My throat tightens, and I clench my fists to stop the tears.
The sound of footsteps pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. I glance up to see Wake standing there, his imposing frame softened by the concern etched into his features. His hair is damp from the ever-present mist, and his piercing eyes lock onto mine immediately.
“You have nothing to fear,” he says, his voice low and steady as he crouches beside me. “I will not allow harm to come to you because of this ritual.”
I let out a shaky breath, shaking my head. “I don’t think any of us get a say in the matter this time, Wake. What if I’m not strong enough? What if…” I bite my lip, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. “What if I fail?”
He leans closer, his presence grounding me in a way nothing else can. “You are as strong as you choose to be, Phoebe. The same as anyone else.”
I let out a bitter laugh, my gaze fixed on the rippling water. “That doesn’t feel like practical advice. I’ve only been Enkian for a few days, Wake. How am I supposed to prove to a goddess that I’m worthy of her power? All I did was be born.”
Wake studies me for a moment, then lifts his hand to gently turn my face toward his. “You’ve been Enkian your entire life,” he says firmly. “In spirit, if not in body. And I believe that is what matters.”
I blink at him, his words cutting through the fog of doubt. He continues, his voice unwavering. “Anyone can be strong, fast, or wise. Those things can be learned, practiced. But you…” He smiles faintly, almost reverently. “You weren’t simply born, Phoebe. You were born for this. You will pass these trials because you are the only one who can.”
Tears blur my vision, and I swallow hard to keep from breaking down completely. “And what if I don’t?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. My gaze searches his, pleading for reassurance I’m not sure anyone can give.
Wake’s expression darkens, his jaw tightening as resolve hardens in his eyes. “If you fall today,” he growls, “I will see to it that this entire godsdamned mountain goes down with you.”
Before I can respond, his hands are on me, pulling me close. His lips crush against mine in a kiss that’s fierce and desperate, as if he’s trying to pour all his strength, all his certainty, into me. I kiss him back just as fiercely, gripping his shoulders as though letting go would mean losing everything.
The roar of the waterfall fades into the background as our bodies entwine. Wake's hands roam hungrily over my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I arch into his touch, craving more. Our kisses grow more frantic, teeth clashing, tongues dueling.
I fumble with the fastenings of his shirt, needing to feel his bare skin against mine. He helps me, shrugging it off before tugging at my own clothes. Soon we're both naked, panting, our bodies slick with sweat and spray from the falls.
Wake pulls me onto his lap and I straddle him, feeling his hardness pressing urgently against me. I rock my hips, savoring the friction, the heat building between us. His lips trail down my neck as I throw my head back in pleasure.
"Phoebe," he groans, voice rough with want.
"I need you,” I pant. “Now."
I lift myself up, positioning him at my entrance. Our eyes lock as I slowly sink down, taking him in inch by exquisite inch. We both gasp at the sensation of finally being joined.
"You take me so well," he growls.
"For you. I was made for you."
We start to move, finding a rhythm. His strong hands grip my hips, guiding me up and down his shaft. I cling to his broad shoulders, losing myself in the feel of his powerful body beneath me.
Our pace quickens, and the pressure builds. Pleasure coils tight inside me, ready to snap. I ride him harder, chasing my release.
He reaches between us, finding my sensitive bud. He rubs firm circles around it, sending sparks of ecstasy through my core. I'm so close. I need more.
"I want to hear you," he demands, thrusting deeper. "Let go, Phoebe. Let me see you come apart."
That's all it takes to push me over the edge. My climax crashes over me in waves, my inner walls clenching around him.
I cry out, his name a prayer on my lips.
He keeps moving, riding me through the aftershocks. But the look on his face, the way he's watching me—I can tell he's close. I brace my hands on his chest and lean forward, grinding my hips against his.
"Come for me, Wake. Please. I need to know how much you need me."
With a low growl, he wraps his arms around me, flipping us so I'm on my back. He drives into me, fast and deep. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
His breathing is ragged, his movements growing more erratic. I run my hands down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles. He's so close. I need him to let go. To surrender to the pleasure.
To me.
"That's it," I urge. "Take what you need. Take me."
With a hoarse shout, he thrusts one last time, his body tensing as he spills inside me. His pleasure triggers another, smaller orgasm in me, and I hold him through the aftershocks. Finally, his cock stops pulsing and his breathing starts to slow.
I run a soothing hand down his spine. "Better?"
"Yes." He drops his forehead to my shoulder. "Thank you."
I stroke the nape of his neck, relishing this quiet moment with him. "I'm glad I could help."
He rolls off me and pulls me into his arms. We stay there, waiting where twilight can’t reach us.
Here, there is only this - only us - infinite and unbreakable.
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