Page 14 of Phoenix Fated (The Phoenix Guardians #4)

JACKSON

“ C ould you not have waited?” Airos says to me as we follow Niah and Azin through the camp.

"She said the punishment was death , bro," I mutter. "Somebody had to do something."

"I would've thought of a way out. It's not wise to allow your energy to deplete so thoroughly."

"Yeah, okay, I got it." I feel like I've been hit with a killer hangover, and honestly, I'm doing everything I can to keep myself moving on my own two feet. I don't want Airos to help me. I'm not gonna perpetuate any more wrong ideas about us.

Though the evening air has cooled a lot with the sunset, I can still feel heat radiating off the ground beneath my sandals.

We're led past a gryph pen secured by nothing but a length of rope laid in a circle on the sand.

The animals aren't tied up—they sit free and watch us pass by, the firelight from nearby lanterns flashing across their pupils.

I smell food. It seems like the entire tribe has gathered in one area, and they're all seated in concentric rings around a wide pit filled with smoldering coals.

As we approach, the chatter and laughter fade to silence and every pair of eyes turns to us.

The weight of their collective gaze makes my skin tingle.

Niah steps forward and addresses her people in their language, her voice carrying across the silent gathering.

Behind her, Azin nods as he listens to her speech, and occasionally barks out a confirmation that draws murmurs and gasps from the crowd.

There's a moment of silence so complete I can hear the crackle of the torches, and someone shouts something that sounds like a question.

Niah's answer ends with the magic word that everyone seems to love— shalkek —and suddenly, the entire tribe erupts.

People leap to their feet, whooping and cheering. Someone somewhere starts playing a flute and a drum. Everyone is going absolutely crazy. It's like we've just brought home the gold.

"What have you told them?" Airos asks her.

"That you are the fated ones who will restore the Shimat and save our people!"

Before either of us can get a word out, we're whisked to the edge of the fire pit and offered seats on cushions and small rugs.

Men push away a layer of the coals to reveal something covered in charred clay in the middle of the fire pit.

Somehow without burning themselves, they extract it and smack it stones.

The clay shatters and releases a cloud of fragrant steam that immediately gets my mouth watering.

Oh my god. Barbecue.

Platters of hot flatbread, dipping sauces, rice, and what smells like caramelized onions are passed around and placed in front of us. Bowls are carefully filled with a milky-yellow liquid from leather skins and shared between people, but Airos and I are given bowls of clear water.

"What are the others drinking?" Airos asks.

"Fermented gryph milk," Niah tells him.

His eyes widen. "Please, I can't accept more of your sacred water. I'll take what everyone else is drinking."

"Shalkek must be given the honor of pure water," Niah insists, and then turns privately to me. "You especially must regain your strength." She then gives a command, and even more food is piled in front of me.

"We eat all of this and we're definitely on the hook for whatever they're expecting from us," I say to Airos, though it's already well on its way into my mouth.

"Eat first, think about it later," he concurs, tearing a piece of bread in half with his teeth.

I have no idea what the meat is, but it smells like lamb and is beyond tender from roasting in its own juices inside the clay shell. Honestly, it could very well be gryph meat and I wouldn't care. If there's one thing I know well, it's to always eat what's on your plate, and to get more if you can.

Following the example of the locals, I spread a bit of thick orange paste onto my bread and then use it to grab a big scoop of the steaming meat.

Next to me, Airos looks like he's trying really hard to use restraint with his portions, but after seeing the way I'm eating, all attempts at keeping it civil go out the door.

Both of us are going to fucking town on our food, shoveling fingerfuls of the succulent spiced meat into our mouths chased by chomps of bread and gulps of cool water.

We both take a look at each other and all we can do is giggle.

We're exhausted. We're a fucking mess. And even though we've managed to get ourselves into another predicament, we're alive.

The celebration continues into the night.

Airos has managed to wrangle himself a bowl of the milk wine.

The tribe's attention has moved to Azin and a group of men who are in the middle of performing some kind of play.

It's becoming easier and easier for me to tell the difference between alphas and omegas.

It's something I can feel by looking at someone, or even just hearing them speak.

I find myself watching the omegas and how they are with the alphas.

There are couples around, some pregnant, some with little children.

I see the way they flirt, with playful secret caresses.

Back on Earth, I probably would've hated seeing that shit. It would've made me angry. I'd probably have wondered why they couldn't keep it to themselves. And though the discomfort isn't entirely absent now, it's everywhere I look. It's just the way things are here. Who cares if I take it all in?

So I do. I notice when some of them disappear from the crowd with their arms draped around each other and hands eagerly exploring beneath their robes.

And then my imagination starts to follow these couples back to their tents.

I can't help but think about the things they're doing with each other.

The alpha's mouth, moving across his omega's neck as his mate strips the robes from his body.

The first taste of his bare skin, the first time witnessing his naked body.

The omega's hand, wrapping tightly around his hard, exposed?—

No, fuck this . I am not thinking about this. Intrusive thought, intrusive thought.

But there's something that I can't ignore—a heat spreading down into my groin and through my cock. Precome is already dripping out of my tip and soaking the front of my underwear. And then there's something else that has me fucking shook .

Jesus, I'm wet . Like how a girl gets wet.

I keep the reaction off my face, but I'm panicking inside.

You're an omega. This must be what happens when omegas get turned on.

But I'm not turned on. My body is just acting up like it always has, an intrusive response that doesn't mean shit.

It's okay to be curious .

I'm not curious. I'm not fucking gay, it's just that I've been cursed with this omega body. It doesn't mean anything about who I really am. This is just how my body works here.

You know the same thing would've happened on Earth. You know it because you've gone through it a million goddamn times before. It's okay to be curious.

I force myself out of my head by imagining myself sealing the thoughts up behind a giant brick wall. It's a technique I've used since I was a kid. Seal away the bad stuff. Everything that would get me in trouble.

"Tell us what's going on here," Airos says to Niah. "What are the Shimat?"

"The Shimat live within the body of the Uthur. They are water spirits, and our people have always relied on their guidance. Our migrations follow their movements. Where they live, water will flow. But they have changed. The shadows grow within them. Now they lead only to poison and death."

"But the well where you found us?"

"It remains pure, for now. But even the great oasis beneath the eastern star has become putrid, a place we have relied on for generations to provide in times when the desert is dry. Dark water. Thick as blood."

"How do we fit into this?" I ask. "Why are we Shalkek?"

Her eyes flash with excitement. "I have seen it. An outsider omega and his mate, pregnant with light, able to move with the Uthur and drenched with the water of our last sacred well. Shalkek. Chosen by the Great Fire." She nods. "It is you ."

This time, I'm able to keep my patience in check. "But the problem is?—"

"—Jackson and I are not mates," Airos finishes. "Like he said, we're barely even friends." He glances at me and I look away. Ah, shit . "The truth is, he and I are obligated to each other. We're on an urgent mission of our own."

"You seek to cleanse a great darkness," she says. "Our purposes are aligned."

Airos nods. "I don't know if we can help you. But I'm willing to try. Jackson?"

I don't need to think about it. These people need our help. "Yeah. One hundred percent."

To say I'm exhausted is an understatement. My endurance level is pretty damn high and I'm no stranger to sleep deprivation, but I don't know the last time I was this shattered. Azin walks ahead of us, humming and singing to himself. Airos is silent, and I know he's gotta be as tired as I am.

I know it's probably better for me to wait until the morning when I have more than a single brain cell operating to choose my words, but I just can't let it lie.

"Airos," I grunt. "What I said before about us not being friends and shit... I didn't mean it. I was just hangry. I needed to eat, you know? Sorry."

"Hangry..." Then the corner of his mouth curls into his usual easy smile. "I like this word." The man is good-looking. Can't deny that. Like a solid ten out of ten.

Shit. I'm delirious.

We've reached a group of small tents near the center of the encampment, but far enough from the fire pit that the sound of the still-ongoing celebrations is dulled to a low murmur.

Azin lifts the fabric door of one of the tents and says something in his language, gesturing inside with his hand. Airos ducks his head to go inside.

"Goodnight," I tell him.

"Yes, goodnight," he says, looking back at me before disappearing inside.

I stand there waiting for Azin to show me to mine, but he just stares at me with the door flap still held open.

He says something to me, nodding with his head and repeating the same gesture with his hand.

My brain is moving like one of those kid's toys on the verge of running out of batteries, and it takes me a second to decide that I'm misunderstanding something here.

"One of those?" I ask, pointing to the other tents. "We go?"

He replies with a grunt, this time shaking his head and adamantly pointing into the tent.

"Seriously?"

Azin has a smile on his face, and if it weren't for our celebrity status here, I probably would've taken this as some kind of prank. But no, he's being polite. He expects us to share.

Alright. No problem.

I duck my head inside and see Airos in the process of stripping down to his skivvies.

Or at least, that's what it looks like. He's seated in front of an oil lamp and he has his robe pulled down to his waist. His side and shoulder blade are streaked with thin scars, some of them overlapping each other like hashmarks.

I only look for a second, but my impression is that they're old, and have been on his body for many years.

"Looks like we're both in here," I grumble.

There's not much inside. The floor is mostly bare sand, with just one section covered in a small spread of carpet, with a wool blanket and a couple of cushions.

"No beds?" I comment, sitting on the sand. "Weird."

He holds his shoulder and moves his arm in a slow circle, testing its mobility. "There is a bed."

"What? You mean that? " I point at the carpet. "Yeah. Bed. Singular. There's two of us."

Airos slips his arm back through the sleeve and reties the robe, then fluffs one of the cushions and stretches out onto the carpet. He closes his eyes and folds his hands over his stomach.

I stare at the empty space beside him, frozen like a goddamn deer about to be pulverized by a semitruck.

"Is there a problem?" Airos says.

"Yeah. I talk in my sleep. Loud. I'll take the dirt."

I lie down on the sand.

"Take the bed," Airos says, sitting up. "It will get cold."

"I'll be fine. You take it. Trust me, this soft-ass sand is like a memory foam mattress compared to some of the places I've slept before."

"Jackson—"

"Going to sleep now, Airos."

I roll over onto my side to face the wall and dig my shoulder into the sand. I don't need to be worried over.

The tent goes dark as Airos puts out the lamp, and from the sound of his breathing I know he's already passed out.

Lucky bastard.