Page 13 of Echoes From the Void (Shadow Locke Shifters #3)

Chapter 12

Frankie

Something changes when I leave Finn with Tori, like a key turning in a lock I didn’t know existed. The twin bond settles, no longer pulling desperately at my power, and suddenly I’m aware of other hungers. Other needs that have been waiting beneath the surface, burning with an intensity that takes my breath away.

The void crisis has emptied Shadow Locke of all but our small group, leaving the campus feeling like a ghost town caught between realities. Moonlight cuts through broken barriers, casting strange shadows that dance and twist without direction. My wolves materialize without being called, drawn toward the training grounds where Bishop’s Guardian energy pulses through our potential bond.

My heart skips at the familiar sensation of his power. Bishop has always affected me this way, even when he was just my professor making me diagram shadow configurations. But now... now he’s something more. The rigid academic facade has cracked, revealing a warrior who chose love over duty. Who risks everything—position, power, tradition—for the chance to be ours.

The night air carries the scent of ozone—residue from his practice wards. Through empty corridors and past evacuated classrooms, I follow the trail of his power like a moth to flame. Guardian marks pulse against Dark Hall’s ancient stones, protection sigils he’s carved into every surface since the void began creeping closer. Each one might as well spell out ‘I love you’ for how clearly I feel his need to keep us safe.

A shadow beast howls in the distance, testing barriers that flare with Bishop’s magic. The sound sends my wolves into alert formation, but I feel no fear. Not here. Not where his power wraps around the campus like armor, keeping the void at bay through sheer stubborn determination. Through the force of his love made manifest in every ward, every protection, every broken rule.

The campus feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting.

Or maybe that’s just me, aching with the need to finally claim what’s been mine since that first day in his class, when he looked at my shadows and saw not a broken thing, but something beautiful.

I find him in one of the warded practice rooms, and for a moment I just watch, letting my heart fill with the sight of him. His Guardian marks blaze as he works through combat forms, new oath runes spiraling up his arms in patterns that mirror my own shadow marks. Every movement is precise, controlled, beautiful in their deadly grace. Just like everything else about him.

Just like everything else about him.

“You should be resting,” he says without turning, because of course he sensed me. The potential bond between us hums with awareness, with need barely contained.

“Probably.” I lean against the doorframe, watching shadow essence respond to his power. “But something’s changing. Can you feel it?”

He stills, power shimmering beneath his skin. The air grows thick with possibility as he finally turns to face me. Moonlight catches on his oath marks, making them glow like captured starlight.

“The bonds,” he says, his voice carrying that careful control I’ve known since I was his student. Since I first felt the pull between us and thought it was just attraction. Just desire. “They’re stronger since Finn’s return.”

“Not just stronger.” I push away from the doorframe, letting my shadows reach for his. They dance together in the space between us, eager for connection. “Different. Like his light somehow... completed something. Made space for?—”

“More,” he finishes. Through our potential bond, I feel his understanding. His own need matching mine.

One of my wolves circles him, testing. Bishop doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back away. Just watches me with those intense eyes that see too much. Have always seen too much.

“You’re not here just to tell me about the bonds,” he observes. A statement, not a question.

“No.” I move closer, drawn by the power humming beneath his careful control. By the way his shadows reach for mine despite his rigid posture. “I’m here because it’s time. Because these potential bonds aren’t enough anymore.”

“Frankie.” My name falls from his lips like a prayer, like a curse, like every forbidden thing we’ve denied ourselves. “Once we do this—once you mark us—there’s no going back. The pack will be permanent.” His control wavers as I step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Are you sure?—”

“That I want you?” I cut him off, letting him see everything I feel in my eyes. “That I want all of you? I’ve been sure since that first day we met at Andy’s, when you looked at the broken girl and saw something more.”

His breath catches. “I also hurt you that summer.” Through our potential bond, I feel his careful control starting to crack. Feel years of wanting, of holding back, of putting duty first beginning to shatter.

I nod sadly. He did. He hurt me.

But the end of the world is strange like that. It really puts things into perspective.

And I?

I can’t live without this man.

“I’ve already chosen,” he says softly, finally, finally reaching for me. His hand cups my face like I’m something precious, something worth breaking every rule for. The touch sends electricity through our connection. “When I took the new oath, when I chose pack over tradition... I was choosing you, firefly. All of you.”

Heat floods me at the old nickname—the one he used to whisper to me that summer wrapped up in his arms.

“Show me,” I breathe, and his control finally breaks.

He moves like the warrior he is, backing me against the training room wall with fluid grace. His mouth claims mine with none of his usual restraint, all that carefully leashed power finally unleashed. I feel the moment his control shatters completely, feel how much he’s been holding back all this time.

“No more waiting,” I gasp against his lips as his hands map my body like territory he’s dying to claim. My fangs descend, responding to the need building between us. “No more careful distance.”

“No more pretending this isn’t exactly where I want to be,” he agrees, and finally, finally lets his power flow freely into our bond.

His shadows tangle with mine as we stand breathing each other’s air, the space between us electric with years of wanting. Slowly, I reach up to trace his jaw, feeling how he trembles at my touch. Here is my controlled Guardian, my proper professor, coming undone for me.

“I used to dream about this,” I confess against his throat. “During your lectures. The way you’d move, explaining shadow theory like it was poetry...”

“I knew,” he growls, his hands sliding under my shirt with possessive heat. “Could feel your shadows reaching for mine. Had to grip my desk to keep from reaching back.”

His oath marks pulse up his arms, as I push his formal robes off his shoulders, revealing more of those beautiful runes that prove he chose us over everything. Each one is a declaration of love written in ancient magic. I trace them with my fingers, my lips, my tongue, feeling his power surge in response.

“Frankie,” he breathes my name like salvation as I explore his skin. “My firefly. My alpha.”

The title sends heat through me. This powerful man, this warrior, submitting to my claim while holding me like I’m precious. Both of us strong, both of us yielding.

“Mine,” I growl, letting my fangs graze his throat. His whole body shudders. “Say it again.”

“My alpha,” he gasps as I press closer, our bodies fitting together like they were made for this. “My heart. My?—”

The rest is lost as I claim his mouth again, pouring years of wanting into the kiss. His hands tangle in my hair, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. Like this is still one of his dreams.

“I’m here,” I whisper against his lips. “I’m real. And I’m going to make you mine in every way possible.”

The pace quickens as we become more eager, more desperate. My hands find the buckle of his belt, while his fingers work on the zipper of my skirt. Each piece of clothing that falls away is a breath held, a moment of anticipation heightened. Between the kisses that grow increasingly passionate, the room seems to hum with the energy between us, every touch heightened, every sensation magnified.

Our shadows intertwine, weaving together in intricate patterns that mirror our physical embrace. Bishop’s hands roam my body with reverence, tracing every curve and plane as if committing it to memory. I arch into his touch, craving more, always more as he lifts me against the door. My legs wrap around his.

“Mark me,” he whispers against my throat, voice rough with desire. “Make me yours, Frankie.”

The sound of my name on his lips sends a shiver through me. I’ve waited so long for this moment, dreamed of it countless times. Now that it’s here, I want to savor every second.

“You’ve always seen me,” I whisper against his throat, where his pulse races beneath my fangs. “Even when I was just your student. Even when I was broken and angry...”

“Never broken,” he corrects, his hands digging into my hips. “Just waiting. Like I was waiting. Like we were all waiting for you.”

With a powerful, urgent thrust, he enters me, filling me completely. My legs wrap tightly around his back, pulling him deeper, desperate to feel every inch of him inside me. I crave more, yearning for him to consume me entirely. The sensation of him stretching me, filling me to the brim, sends electric shocks of pleasure pulsing through my body. His heat radiates, and I clutch him, needing to feel every flex of his muscles, to become one with him.

Each thrust is harder, more intense, our bodies moving in a fierce, primal rhythm. Our hearts pound in sync, echoing the wild beat of our desire. The intensity builds, pushing me to the edge, where I’m lost in the raw, carnal hunger that devours us both.

His breath scorches my neck, his lips blazing a trail from my earlobe to my collarbone, leaving a path of fire in their wake. I shiver with anticipation as he growls my name, his voice thick with lust. His hands roam my body, claiming every curve and line with a possessive touch. Each caress ignites my skin, setting me ablaze with a need so fierce it’s all-consuming.

I arch into him, meeting his every thrust with equal fervor, our bodies locked in a passionate, desperate dance. His pace quickens, driving us both towards the brink. Our breaths mingle, ragged and hungry, as our souls intertwine. The world outside disappears, leaving only us, only this moment, only this raw, consuming passion that threatens to incinerate us both.

Power builds between us, shadow essence dancing around our joined forms. His oath marks pulse with each touch, each kiss, each moment of surrender. When I finally sink my fangs into his throat, claiming him completely, his shadows surge into mine.

The bond explodes into full life.

Through it, I feel everything—his love, his protective fury, his absolute trust. Years of watching me grow into my power, of fighting his feelings because of duty and position, of finally choosing pack over tradition.

“Yours,” he gasps as my power flows into him, marking him as mine forever. “Always yours.”

“Mine,” I agree, licking the claiming bite. “My Guardian. My protector. My mate.”

His body shudders against mine as the bond settles, pleasure and power intertwining until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. I feel him everywhere—in my veins, in my shadows, in the very core of my being. The connection is overwhelming, intense in a way I never could have imagined.

“Frankie,” he breathes, voice rough with emotion. “I can feel... everything.”

I know exactly what he means. Through our newly forged bond, I sense the depth of his devotion, the fierce protectiveness that’s always driven him. But there’s more too—vulnerability, need, a hunger that matches my own. All the things he’s kept carefully controlled for so long.

“I know,” I whisper, cradling his face in my hands. “I feel it too. All of it.”

“The others,” he murmurs, tracing one of my shadow marks. “I can feel them more clearly now. Through you.”

He’s right. The potential bonds with Matteo, Leo, and Dorian feel different now, more defined. Like Bishop’s claiming has somehow strengthened all our connections.

“They’re waiting,” I realize. “They can feel what happened.”

“Mhm.” His fingers find the bite mark he left on my shoulder—a Guardian’s claim to match my Alpha’s mark on him. “Matteo’s probably wearing a hole in the floor pacing. Leo’s vibrating with excitement. And Dorian...”

“Is pretending he’s not affected at all while reorganizing his entire library,” I finish, feeling our newest mate’s mixture of longing and attempted indifference through the bonds.

Bishop laughs softly, the sound rich with satisfaction. “He’ll be the hardest to claim. Too much pride.”

“Good thing I like a challenge.” I roll my hips against him one more time savoring his groan and shudder. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being my first. For showing me it’s okay to need this. To need them.”

His hand cups my face, thumb tracing where my fangs have retracted. “You’ve always been meant for this, Frankie. For us. Even when you were that angry girl in my class, something in you called to something in me.”

Through our strengthened bond, I feel his complete acceptance—of my power, my darkness, my need for all of them. It gives me courage for what comes next.

“I should find the others,” I say, though making myself move from his embrace proves harder than expected. “Before Matteo actually does wear through the floor.”

“Or before Leo spontaneously combusts from excitement.” Bishop’s lips quirk. “I can feel him practically bouncing through the bonds.”

“And Dorian?”

“Has reorganized his books three times in the last hour.” He slowly lets me down, shadows helping gather our scattered clothes. “He’s in the library basement, obviously.”

“Obviously.” I pull on my shirt, watching his oath marks continue to shimmer. “Any suggestions on order?”

Bishop considers through our new bond, his strategic mind analyzing the connections. “Matteo first. His protective instincts are already heightened from the changes he’s going through. Then Leo—his energy will help balance the intensity. Save Dorian for last...”

“Because he needs to pretend he’s not waiting for it?”

“Because he needs to know we won’t give up on him,” Bishop corrects gently. Through our bond, I feel his understanding of our most reserved mate. “Like you didn’t give up on me.”

I lean in to kiss him one more time, feeling how naturally our shadows blend now. “Thank you for being my first.”

“Thank you for being our Alpha,” he returns. “Now go claim your pack properly. I’ll check on Finn.”

“And Tori?” I can’t help teasing. “Should I be worried about leaving her alone with my brother?”

Bishop’s smile carries knowing amusement. “I think some bonds form whether we plan them or not. Rather like ours did.”

“Besides,” Bishop adds as I reach the door, “your wolf is still watching them.”

“For protection,” I protest.

“Of course.” His disbelief flows through our bond, warm with affection. I feel him with more clarity now. Like switching from black and white television to high definition. “Just like Dorian’s constant reorganizing is purely for academic purposes.”

I flip him off, but there’s no heat in it. Through our strengthened connection, I feel his love, his certainty, his absolute faith in what we’re becoming. It steadies me for what comes next.

“Go,” he says softly. “They’re waiting. All of them.”

I pause at the threshold, letting my shadows dance one more time with his oath marks. “I love you, you know. Even when you’re being all strategic about pack dynamics.”

“I love you too. Even when you’re pretending not to be a total softie about your brother’s potential love life.”

Laughing, I slip into the shadows, following the pull of the remaining bonds.

Time to claim my pack properly.

All of them.

Even the ones who pretend they’re not waiting for it.

Through our new bond, I feel Bishop’s pride, his love, his absolute certainty that this—all of this—is exactly what we’re meant to be.

He’s right.

We’re just getting started.