Chapter 163
The cavern feels impossibly still, like the world itself is holding its breath. The obsidian walls shimmer faintly, the light from the fractured gap refracting into sharp, glittering lines. The air feels thicker now, charged with something electric, something that prickles along my skin as Wake steps closer.
I can’t look away from him—from the hard edge of his jaw, the storm in his dark eyes, and the way every inch of him radiates power and purpose. His gaze pins me in place, heavy and unrelenting, like I’m the only thing that matters like he’s fought his way through fire and sea just to find me.
And now he has.
“Phoebe,” he murmurs, my name breaking like a promise from his lips. His voice vibrates low in his chest, deep enough to stir something molten inside me. I’m not sure who moves first, but suddenly his mouth is on mine—hot, demanding, relentless—and I’m sinking into him like I’ve wanted to from the moment he first crashed into my life.
His hands cup my face, rough and careful all at once like he’s afraid I might disappear. My fingers tangle in his dark, wet hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens. The heat that coils low in my belly is fierce and unrelenting, consuming everything but him.
It doesn’t matter that we’re standing in the aftermath of chaos, that the ground still glitters with jagged shards of glass-like obsidian. Right now, all I feel is Wake—his strength, his warmth, his body pressed against mine. The steady roar of water outside the cavern becomes nothing more than white noise, the fractured light on the walls turning into a backdrop of stars.
“You’re mine, Phoebe,” he growls softly, his breath hot against my lips. He pulls back just far enough to look into my eyes, his gaze dark and heavy. “Do you understand that?”
I nod, unable to speak, my throat tight with anticipation and need. The truth in his words rattles through me, settling somewhere deep, as though a piece of me I hadn’t realized was missing finally clicks into place.
Wake doesn’t wait. He lifts me easily, cradling me like I weigh nothing at all, and lays me down on the cavern floor. The obsidian beneath me is cool against my overheated skin, a stark contrast to the way Wake touches me—with fire, with purpose. His hands trail down my sides, tracing every curve like he’s memorizing me all over again. Every brush of his fingertips sends sparks racing along my nerves, and I shiver under him, my chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
When he kisses me this time, it’s slower and deeper, and I let myself unravel beneath him. The cavern hums softly with the echo of our breathing, the distant sound of dripping water like a heartbeat in the background. Wake slides his hands beneath my shirt, pushing it up and over my head in one smooth motion. The air hits my skin like ice, but his gaze ignites something hotter than any fire. He looks at me with such intensity that I feel utterly bare—not just my body, but every part of me.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, his voice so soft I almost miss it.
Then his mouth trails along my throat, lingering over the pulse that pounds so wildly for him. He kisses his way lower, brushing over my collarbone and then down to the swell of my breasts. My back arches instinctively as his tongue flicks over one hardened peak, a gasp escaping me before I can stop it. The sound seems to encourage him, and he groans softly against my skin, his hands anchoring me to the glittering earth as though he can’t let me go.
The heat in my core grows unbearable, and I arch against him, desperate for more—for everything. I want to drown in this, to lose myself completely to the way he touches me, to the way he makes me feel like I’m the only thing in the world. But then it happens.
The world tilts and shifts, and I’m not in my body anymore. I’m him.
I see myself through Wake’s eyes, sprawled beneath him like something delicate and untouchable. My hair fans out across the obsidian like dark silk, my skin glowing softly in the fractured light. I can feel his desire for me, raw and overwhelming—it coils low in his belly, making his every touch more reverent, more possessive.
She’s mine, Wake thinks, and I feel it as if it’s my own thought, a truth as unshakable as the earth beneath us. I feel the weight of his hands—my hands—sliding up her thighs, feeling the softness of her skin, the way she trembles under my touch. Phoebe lets out the faintest sound, a whimper that shoots straight to the center of me. I lower myself, kissing her stomach with something close to worship, savoring every reaction.
I blink, and suddenly I’m back in my body.
Wake’s mouth is on me again, sliding lower, his tongue teasing, exploring. My legs part instinctively as I cry out, my fingers tangling in his hair. The pleasure is dizzying, building like a storm inside me, and for a moment I think I might come undone entirely. But then the world shifts again, and I’m pulled back into him.
This time I’m behind her. My hands grip her hips, pulling her back against me as I press into her slowly, savoring the way she opens for me, the way her body welcomes me. Phoebe gasps, arching her back, and I feel the way her muscles tighten, the way her breath catches with every movement.
“You’re so perfect,” Wake’s voice says, but it’s my voice now. I feel what he feels—the unbearable pleasure, the sense of completion, of claiming. It’s too much and not enough, all at once.
I blink again, the flash of sensation leaving me breathless as I return to myself.
“Phoebe,” Wake groans against my skin, his voice rough and strained. He pulls me up, his arms wrapping around me as he settles me onto his lap. I gasp as I sink onto him, his hands steadying me as my body adjusts, stretching around him. He holds me there, his forehead resting against mine, his breath mingling with my own.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” he whispers, his voice low and intimate.
I nod, my heart pounding as the connection flares brighter than ever between us. I can feel him—the way his pleasure mirrors mine, the way our bodies move in perfect rhythm. I roll my hips, and he groans, his fingers digging into my waist as he guides me, meeting me stroke for stroke. The tension coils tighter, hotter until I feel like I’m going to shatter.
But then it happens again. I’m not me. I’m him.
Phoebe rides me like she was made for this, for me. Her body moves with mine, her hands bracing on my shoulders, her lips parted as she gasps my name. I feel every inch of her, every flutter of her inner muscles as she draws me deeper, tighter. My hands move up her back, holding her close as I bury my face in her neck. She’s mine—every sound, every shiver, every heartbeat.
I blink back to myself, the pleasure of water whelming as it crashes through me.
“Wake!” I cry, unable to hold back any longer. The orgasm tears through me, blinding and all-consuming, and I feel Wake follow me over the edge. He groans my name, his arms crushing me against him as we shatter together, the connection between us burning brighter than ever before.
For a long moment, the world goes quiet. The only sounds are our ragged breaths, the distant lapping of seawater, and the faint hum of the obsidian walls around us. Wake holds me close, his hands running soothing circles along my back as I rest my head on his chest.
“You felt that too,” I murmur, my voice soft and drowsy.
“Every time,” Wake replies, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. His voice is softer now, almost reverent. “You are my mate, Phoebe. I don’t just love you—I know you.”
His words settle deep inside me, filling all the cracks and empty spaces I didn’t even know were there. I close my eyes, my body still humming with the aftershocks of our connection, and let myself drift in the safety of his arms.
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