Page 32 of Echoes From the Void (Shadow Locke Shifters #3)
Chapter 31
Frankie
As far as final meals go, this one feels perfect. Matteo’s traditional Indian curry fills the air with warm spices, while shadows and light dance across the abandoned cafeteria. Bishop definitely didn’t just “find” his mother’s bourbon stash, though his Guardian marks pulse with satisfaction every time someone takes a drink.
I take another sip of the amber liquid, letting it warm my throat. The heat of the curry mingles with the bourbon’s smoky notes on my tongue, creating a perfect balance—something I’ve come to appreciate more since finding my pack, since learning how different kinds of power can complement each other.
What started as our small group has expanded into something larger, something warmer. Through various bonds, I feel the contentment radiating from everyone. Matteo’s mother chats with Leo’s sisters, their combined shadows creating unconscious patterns in the air. Leo’s youngest sister keeps accidentally manifesting shadow-notes when she laughs, while Dorian’s uncle attempts to charm Andy with frost patterns that suspiciously resemble hearts.
Before Finn, I might have felt the hollow ache of having no blood family to bring. But looking around this room, feeling the various bonds humming with life and love, I realize I’ve had family all along. Different kinds of connections, but no less real.
My attention keeps drifting to Dorian though. He stands apart from the chaos, observing everything with that careful distance he maintains. But I catch how his frost patterns dance unconsciously with the music, how his temporal distortions ripple whenever Leo’s sisters hit a particularly high note in their impromptu karaoke.
As if sensing my scrutiny, his eyes meet mine across the room. That slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth—the real one, not his practiced academic expression. His frost patterns reach unconsciously toward my shadows, a gesture I’ve come to recognize as his version of affection.
Standing, I sway slightly as the bourbon hits. Through our growing bond, I feel his immediate concern, though he tries to mask it with scholarly detachment. My wolves stir beneath my skin, responding to the mixture of alcohol and building anticipation.
“Enjoying the spectacle?” I ask, leaning against the wall beside him. My shadows automatically reach for his frost, an interaction that’s become increasingly natural lately.
“It’s... different,” he admits, his gaze returning to the crowd though his frost patterns continue to dance with my shadows. “Than what I’m accustomed to.”
I bump his shoulder playfully. “Come on, even you have to admit Leo’s sisters doing karaoke is better than another stuffy Guardian event.”
“The acoustics are questionable at best,” he says dryly, but there’s fondness hiding beneath his academic tone. His temporal distortions ripple slightly, betraying how affected he is by the casual contact. “Though I suppose their enthusiasm makes up for the technical deficiencies.”
“Dance with me,” I say suddenly, surprising us both. Through our bond, I feel his immediate tension—not rejection, but that careful control he always maintains.
His eyes widen slightly, frost patterns swirling faster. “Frankie...”
“Just one dance,” I press, feeling bold from the bourbon and the way his essence keeps reaching for mine despite his protests. “Before you catalog any more of our questionable life choices for posterity.”
“I do not catalog—” he starts, then stops at my knowing look. His frost spreads in delicate patterns that betray his fluster. “The documentation is purely for academic purposes.”
“Of course it is, little owl.” The nickname slips out naturally now, earned through countless hours of shared study and quiet understanding. Through our bond, I feel how it affects him, though he tries to hide it.
Something shifts in his expression—a softening around his usually rigid control. His temporal distortions settle into a gentler pattern as he sets down his drink with precise movements. “One dance,” he concedes. “Though I maintain this is highly irregular use of an academic facility.”
“Add it to your notes,” I tease, taking his offered hand. His frost immediately twines with my shadows, an unconscious reaction he can’t quite control anymore.
The music shifts to something slower as we move to the makeshift dance floor. Dorian’s hands find my waist with careful propriety, but I step closer, eliminating the formal distance he tries to maintain. After a moment’s tension, he relaxes, letting me settle against him as our essences mingle.
“You know,” I say softly as we sway together, “I never thought I’d have this.”
“The questionable pleasure of dancing in an abandoned cafeteria?” His attempt at deflection doesn’t hide the way his temporal distortions flutter around us, responding to his emotions.
“Any of it.” I look around at our gathered family, feeling the various bonds humming with life and love. “The pack, the connections, moments like this. You.”
His breath catches slightly at that last word. Through our growing bond, I feel his careful walls wavering, frost patterns dancing more freely with my shadows.
“Frankie,” he starts, then stops as I lean my head against his shoulder. His frost patterns dance around us, creating delicate swirls that mirror our movement. The temporal distortions that usually guard him settle into something softer, more natural.
“I see you,” I murmur against his collar, letting my shadows twine more deliberately with his frost. “Even when you try to hide behind your books and temporal shifts. I’ve always seen you.”
His arms tighten around me properly now, academic distance forgotten. When he speaks, his voice carries rare vulnerability. “Perhaps that’s what terrifies me most.”
I lift my head to meet his gaze. “Let me see all of you,” I whisper, my shadows reaching deeper for his essence. “Let me in.”
The words hang between us, weighted with possibility. Dorian’s frost patterns swirl with uncharacteristic emotion as his eyes search mine. Through our strengthening bond, I feel his struggle between control and desire.
“The library,” he says suddenly, his voice rough. His temporal distortions ripple around us. “It’s... safer there. Away from prying eyes.”
A laugh bubbles up. “Dorian Gray, are you suggesting we sneak away from the party?”
“I am suggesting,” he says with careful dignity, though his frost betrays his anticipation, “that some conversations require more private venues. For academic purposes.”
“Academic purposes,” I echo, warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with bourbon. Through our bond, I feel his careful control slipping further. “Of course.”
He takes my hand with that precise gentleness I’ve come to associate with him—like I’m one of his precious first editions that he secretly lets me touch. His frost patterns wrap around us as we slip away from the party, the sounds of Leo’s sisters’ karaoke fading behind us.
The library feels different at night, moonlight streaming through stained glass windows and casting colored shadows across the stacks. Our footsteps echo in the empty space as Dorian leads me to our usual corner—the one where we’ve spent countless hours studying, arguing theory, slowly learning each other. His temporal distortions create subtle ripples in the air, responding to his growing anticipation.
“Have you ever...” I pause, gathering courage as my shadows dance with his frost. “Have you ever actually done anything besides study in here?”
His grip on my hand tightens slightly, temporal patterns shifting. “That would be highly inappropriate use of academic resources.”
“That’s not a no.” My wolves stir beneath my skin, responding to the tension building between us.
“It’s not a yes either.” But there’s a heat in his voice I’ve never heard before, his frost patterns swirling faster.
I turn to face him, backing up until I feel shelves behind me. Through our bond, I feel his careful control wavering. “Maybe it’s time to conduct some new research.”
“Frankie,” he breathes my name like a prayer, like something precious and rare. His hands come up to cage me against the shelves, frost and temporal distortions creating a cocoon around us. “Are you sure?”
Instead of answering, I pull him down to me, pressing my lips to his. He freezes for just a moment—that careful control wavering—before something finally breaks. His essence surges to meet mine, frost and shadows merging as his restraint begins to crumble.
The kiss starts gentle, almost hesitant, but quickly deepens as months of carefully maintained distance crumble. Dorian’s hands slide from the shelves to my waist, pulling me closer as his frost patterns swirl wildly around us. His temporal distortions pulse with each heartbeat, creating echoes of this moment.
I gasp as my back hits the books, breaking the kiss. Dorian takes advantage, trailing his lips down my neck with a precision that makes me shiver. My wolves stir restlessly beneath my skin as my fingers tangle in his perfectly styled hair, destroying his careful composure.
“We should have done this ages ago,” I manage, arching into him as he nips at my collarbone. His frost leaves cool trails wherever he touches.
“Perhaps,” he murmurs against my skin, temporal ripples following his words. “Though the library’s organizational system might have suffered.”
A laugh bubbles up, turning into a gasp as his hands roam lower. “Are you really thinking about book organization right now?”
“I think about many things,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them, pupils blown wide with desire as frost dances between us. “Most of them involving you, lately.”
The admission, so simple yet so profound from someone who guards his emotions so carefully, makes my heart skip. I cup his face in my hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones as our essences twine deeper.
“Dorian,” I say softly, feeling his curse pulse beneath my touch like a living thing. “I know what tomorrow might bring. But right now...” I pause, gathering courage. “Right now, I want to give you something.”
His breath catches as understanding dawns. “Frankie, you don’t have to?—”
“I want to break your curse.” The words come out in a rush, my shadows reaching instinctively for the darkness that’s bound him for so long. “With the pack bond—through my bite—I can share my essence with yours. Our combined power would be enough. I want to give you that, at least. While I still can.”
Dorian’s whole body stills, his frost patterns freezing mid-swirl. Through our strengthening bond, I feel the curse respond to my words, ancient magic stirring. “Frankie...” His voice carries a vulnerability I’ve never heard before.
I lean up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Let me do this for you. Let me give you this one thing.” My shadows reach deeper, testing the edges of his curse’s bindings.
Instead of answering, he lifts me suddenly, carrying me deeper into the library. His temporal distortions create a private pocket of space around us as he navigates the familiar path to our corner—the hidden nook where we’ve spent countless hours studying, arguing theory, slowly falling in love though neither of us would admit it.
The worn leather couch welcomes us as he sets me down gently. Moonlight streams through the stained glass windows, casting him in shades of blue and gold. His frost patterns dance with my shadows, creating intricate patterns in the air around us. His usual perfect composure is gone, replaced by something raw and real.
“Are you certain?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. His temporal distortions ripple with tension. “The energy required to break a curse this old?—”
I reach up, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. Through our bond, I feel the curse’s dark weight, centuries of burden pressing down on him, passed through generations. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
He captures my lips in a kiss that’s both tender and desperate. His essence surges to meet mine as I lose myself in it, hands roaming over the planes of his chest, the subtle strength he usually hides beneath academic propriety. When we break apart, both breathless, I see the vulnerability in his eyes.
“I’ve never let anyone this close,” he admits roughly, frost swirling faster. “Never wanted to.”
“I know.” I pull him closer, feeling the curse’s magic pulse between us. My shadows reach for his frost, testing the ancient bindings that have held him for so long. “Trust me?”
His response is a shaky exhale as I straddle his lap. Temporal distortions ripple around us, creating a cocoon of private space as my fingers trail along his collarbone. His pulse races beneath my touch, essence responding to mine.
I pull back to capture his lips again, pouring all my built-up hunger into the kiss. Our essences merge deeper—shadow and frost dancing together as the curse’s bindings start to weaken. His hands grip my hips with desperate control, temporal patterns fluctuating with each touch.
“Frankie,” he whispers, my name carrying a weight of meaning I’ve never heard from him before. I look up, meeting his gaze. The moonlight turns his eyes to liquid silver, frost patterns swirling with emotions he usually keeps carefully hidden. For once, I see all of him—his strength, his vulnerability, and something that looks remarkably like love.
His touch is reverent as he traces my cheek, frost leaving cool trails on my skin. Every point of contact sends electricity through our bond, building the power between us. The curse responds, ancient magic recognizing the threat to its hold.
Our bodies press together perfectly, his heartbeat strong and steady against my chest. His mouth claims mine again, the kiss starting gentle but quickly becoming fierce, desperate. The world narrows to just us—the heat of his skin, the press of his fingers, the soft sounds he makes when I rock against him.
His hands roam my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I respond eagerly, my fingers tracing the hard planes of his chest, exploring every inch I can reach. His breath hitches as I move lower, following the defined lines of his stomach.
His grip tightens on my hips as I explore, a silent plea for more. I oblige, pressing closer until no space remains between us. Our bodies move together with increasing urgency, guided by instinct and need.
“Frankie,” he breathes, my name almost a prayer. I answer by deepening our kiss, pouring all the unspoken feelings into it. His hands slide up my back, mapping my spine with precise, intentional touches that leave me shivering.
When I pull back slightly to look at him, his cheeks are flushed, eyes dark with intensity. I trace his lower lip with my thumb, feeling his quick breath. He catches my thumb between his teeth, making me gasp.
A knowing smile tugs at his mouth. I lean in close, whispering against his ear, “You’re playing with fire, Dorian.”
“Then let’s burn together,” he rasps, pulling me into another fierce kiss.
And with those words, he leans in, capturing my lips in a tender, lingering kiss, the rest of the world softly blurring around us. His words kindle a gentle, sweet yearning within me. I weave my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer as our kiss deepens, becoming a gentle dance, a harmonious blend of affection and warmth. His hands glide down my body, resting on my hips, drawing me closer to him. I oblige, a soft sigh escaping my lips as waves of contentment wash over me.
Dorian pauses, his breath soft as he trails delicate kisses down my throat, lingering on the sensitive spots that make me quiver. I tilt my head back, eyes fluttering closed, completely giving in to the sensation. His hands move up, lightly tracing the line of my waist, the curve of my breasts, his touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. I can feel his heart beating steadily against me, matching the peaceful rhythm of my own.
“Frankie,” he murmurs softly against my skin, his voice like velvet, gentle yet stirring something deep within me. “You make me lose myself.” His words are a tender caress, sending waves of warmth through my body. I smile, opening my eyes to meet his gaze, soft and affectionate, promising a night of tender connection.
“I feel the same way,” I reply softly, my voice intertwined with affection. My hands reach for the hem of his shirt, slowly lifting it up and over his head, revealing the smooth, sculpted lines of his chest. He helps me, his movements graceful and unhurried. I set the shirt aside, taking a moment to appreciate the quiet strength before me, the peaceful rhythm of his breath, the faint trail of hair that hints at the intimacy to come.
He reaches for me, his hands gently finding the edge of my shirt, mirroring my movements. I lift my arms, allowing him to slide it off, leaving me in just my lace bra. His eyes linger over me, the look of sincere admiration and affection making me feel both cherished and beautiful, like a treasure in his eyes.
Slowly, I lean in to kiss him again, our bare skin meeting, sparking a warmth that spreads through us. The sensation is tender and spellbinding, gently magnifying every movement, every touch. His hands find the clasp of my bra, undoing it with a soft, careful touch. I let it slip off, pressing my body gently against his, feeling the sweet, skin-to-skin connection that warms me to my core.
Dorian’s lips find mine, his kiss now soft yet yearning, a dance of pure affection. I respond gently, our breaths mingling, our bodies swaying in harmony. The room fades away, leaving just the two of us, lost in each other, glowing together in a soft embrace of desire.
His hands explore my back, tracing the lines of my shoulders, the curve of my spine, as if cherishing every inch of me. I can feel the warmth of his touch, the gentle texture of his palms igniting tender shivers down my body. My own hands roam freely, memorizing the firm planes and subtle marks of his torso, each touch feeling like a secret shared, a story told softly, a symphony of gentle sensation.
Dorian shifts, a soft murmur of contentment in his chest as he pulls me even closer, the gentle friction between us sending waves of sweet pleasure through me. I sway against him, my breath catching as his hold on me tightens, his fingers pressing into my flesh with a tender firmness. His mouth moves from mine, trailing soft, lingering kisses down my neck, pausing at my collarbone, igniting a warm, tender trail.
“You’re so incredibly beautiful, Frankie,” he whispers, his voice gentle and filled with wonder. “Every part of you. I want to cherish every inch, every secret.” His words warm me, and I guide his mouth to my breast, sighing softly as his lips close around the peak, drawing out a soft moan from within me.
His hand tenderly cups my other breast, his thumb lightly brushing over the sensitive tip, stirring a gentle wave of pleasure. I lean into his touch, my head tilting back as a sweet, gentle moan escapes my lips. He showers each breast with tender affection, his mouth and hands awakening a soft, languid desire within me, drawing me into a state of bliss. I can feel a gentle, building warmth, a tender tension growing within me, like the first rays of sunlight at dawn.
I reach for his belt, my fingers carefully unfastening the buckle, wanting to feel all of him. He lifts his hips, helping me as I slide his pants down, feeling the firm length of him pressing against me, promising a release like the first soft rain of spring. He kicks them off, and I gently remove the rest of my clothes, wanting to feel all of him against all of me, skin against skin, tenderness against tenderness.
Dorian draws me back onto his lap, his breath soft and shallow as he gazes at me, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and sweet desire. I position myself above him, feeling the warmth of him pressed against my entrance. His hands softly grip my hips, steadying me as I slowly lower myself onto him, like a flower opening to the morning sun.
The intense desire in the air is palpable as our bodies blend into one, a soft gasp of pleasure escaping both our lips at the sheer intensity of it all. My mind is spinning, my heart pounding like a gentle drum as I adjust to the sensation of Dorian’s presence deep inside of me, the connection between us transcending the mere physical.
His eyes, those captivating, tender pools, never leave mine, holding me gently in place as they anchor me in this moment of pure, unadulterated bliss. Slowly, I begin to move with him, my hips rising and falling in a rhythm as natural as breathing, as if we were made for this singular purpose: to love each other until we see stars.
The soft sound of skin on skin, the whispered endearments, the gentle breaths and soft moans fuel my desire as I lose myself in the sheer pleasure of Dorian’s body melding with mine. His hands, those strong, confident fingers, grip my hips, guiding my movements as I rise to meet him, thrust for thrust.
The air is rich with the scent of our passion as we move together, our lips meeting in a tender, unending kiss. We breathe in each other’s sighs and whispers, the pressure between us growing, spiraling upward and promising to release us from all restraints.
My heart flutters, each gentle thrust of Dorian’s hips drawing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. The world around us disappears, leaving only this intimate dance, the love that fuels our pleasure, the soft words and sweet phrases exchanged between kisses as we ascend together.
But I don’t want this moment to end, not yet, not when I have this wonderful man beneath me, his body a gift to cherish, to love, to explore in every profound way. So, I sway my hips gently, inviting Dorian to join me in this harmonious rhythm, both of us losing ourselves in the pleasure that promises to consume us.
When I finally sink my teeth into his neck, claiming him completely, something ancient and powerful pulses between us. I feel the curse—dark and heavy—resisting for just a moment before it shatters entirely.
The release of power throws us both over the edge. Dorian cries out, his body arching beneath me his burden finally lifts. The force of it rocks through me as well, our shared pleasure amplified by magic and connection.
Afterward, he holds me close as we catch our breath. I can feel him trembling slightly, overwhelmed by freedom after so long bound.
“You did it,” he whispers in awe, his temporal distortions flowing naturally for the first time since I’ve known him. “I can feel it—the curse is gone.”
I press a gentle kiss to his lips, tasting the lingering traces of bourbon and magic. “You’re free,” I murmur against his mouth. “And you’re mine. Ours.”
His arms tighten around me as he buries his face in my neck, frost patterns wrapping around us like a blanket. For the first time since I’ve known him, Dorian Gray lets his careful walls crumble completely, letting me see all of him—mortal, vulnerable, and perfectly, beautifully free.
Through our strengthened bond, I feel the moment he truly accepts it. His essence, reaches naturally for mine. My shadows welcome him, twining with his frost in patterns that feel like belonging.
“What happens now?” he asks softly, his voice carrying none of its usual academic distance.
I think of the Council waiting for tomorrow, of the sacrifice they demand. But right now, in this moment, with Dorian’s newly freed essence dancing with mine, I can’t bring myself to fear it.
“Now,” I say, pressing closer to him, “we make every moment count.”
His response is to kiss me again, pouring all of his contained emotion into it. And in the quiet of the library, surrounded by books that have witnessed so much of our story, we lose ourselves in the freedom of finally, truly belonging to each other.