Page 20 of Phoenix Fated (The Phoenix Guardians #4)

AIROS

J ackson gives my shoulder an excited shove. "Holy shit, there it is! You found it!"

The well sits like a gift from the Gods on the distant sand.

We sprint like men possessed, and it isn't until we reach the stone trough that I realize what we've just accomplished.

We ran in perfect unison—not a single stumble, not one moment where the rope pulled taut between us.

All of the obstacles had been cleared without conscious thought, as though the rope didn't exist at all.

We carefully remove the stone cover and peer down into the pit. The sweet, cool scent of water drifts up from below, and I see a shimmer, like a window to the sky above. It's clean, and it's still untouched by any corruption.

Jackson unties the rope from around his waist, and I do the same. We then tie the separate sections together, fasten them to the neck of my wine gourd, and lower it down into the well.

It doesn't reach.

"Damn," I say. "The surface was higher before."

"We'll have to extend the rope," Jackson says, and he immediately begins to strip off his cloak.

Gods.

Once again, I'm enthralled by the sight before me. And again, I have to remind myself to quell the things I feel when looking at him.

But he is gorgeous. And it's not just his appearance. His omega presence is subtle but undeniable, like a heat that seems to radiate from him even when he's trying to maintain distance. He has no control over it. I doubt he's even aware of it.

I feel a weakening of my resolve over the things I promised myself I would never do.

The things I would never feel about an omega.

And now I feel as though a gap between us has lessened.

I don't know what it is or why it happened.

There's an opening in his armor, and it's like his very scent has shifted, becoming richer, more complex—something that makes my mouth water and my hands itch to reach for him.

This is dangerous. Incredibly dangerous.

It's too late. My body can't help itself.

It does what it wants, despite the valiant efforts of the mind.

And it is now hard as stone and aching for release.

My cock wants to be buried deep inside him.

My cock wants to feel his fingers tighten around its length and play across its most sensitive ridges.

My cock wants to teach him the pleasures of being with an alpha—and another man.

I feel a sudden swell of phoenix power inside of me. It's slight, but undeniable.

What is this? How?

Surely my power could not be recovering simply by my arousal. It would require mutual desire?—

No. That's ridiculous.

I study Jackson's profile in the dim light, searching for any sign that might confirm such an absurd notion, but it's too difficult to know.

He finishes tying his clothes to the rope and lowers the gourd back into the well.

The end of the line reaches his hands, but the only sound we hear is the hollow, echoing knock of the gourd against the stone.

"No way," he says, leaning over to look. "How shallow did it get? Alright, then." He holds out his hand to me. "Airos, give me your robe."

"What?"

"Give me your tunic. It might be enough to reach. Hurry. The sun is already about to come up."

The damn beast with a mind of its own continues to throb against the fabric of my clothing. Beneath my Gnosis robes, all I have on is a thin loincloth that will do absolutely nothing to hide the shape of my erection.

Think, Airos.

"I'm naked beneath it," I say, like a complete moron.

Jackson gives me a look. "Oh-kay... What the hell are we going to do then, Airos?"

"We dance," I say.

"Here?"

"Perhaps an elemental still resides here. We can try to reach it."

"Or you could just give me your cloak..."

"I didn't realize you were so keen to take my clothes off," I say, reaching for the clasp. "But if you insist so strongly, then I have no choice..."

"We dance," he says quickly.

The fading starlight casts long shadows across the sand around the well, and I can feel the weight of exhaustion in every muscle. I have to expel my doubts—and I have a lot of them.

"Start slow," I say, settling into the first position Niah had shown us.

Jackson mirrors my stance, feet planted shoulder-width apart, hands positioned at his sides.

We look into each other's eyes. I nod my head, counting the time.

And then we begin. Step, pivot, arm sweep—each motion deliberate and careful.

The sand shifts beneath our feet as we move, and I'm acutely aware of Jackson beside me, matching my rhythm.

"One, two, three..." he counts under his breath, his voice barely audible over the whisper of wind across the dunes.

It's clunky at first. Both of us are focused on our own feet, our own timing, but the movements return easier than I expected, and it isn't long before I'm hardly thinking about them at all. Step, pivot, arms raised, step again, reverse, cross over.

Faster .

I can feel the dull thud of our feet through the sand, and I can feel our pace increasing. The decision seems to materialize out of nowhere for both of us. We're still linked in unison and in step.

Then something shifts. A subtle pull, like the tide drawing me forward. The hair on my arms stands up, and there's a charge in the air that makes my skin tingle.

"Do you feel that?" I breathe, not breaking rhythm.

"Oh, I feel that," Jackson replies, his voice tight with concentration.

The movements become more fluid, and soon I have the distinct impression that we're on a stage and dancing for a spectator.

There is something watching us. I spin and catch Jackson's eye as we pivot in opposite directions, and for a moment it's like seeing my reflection.

We're perfectly synchronized, moving as one.

The sensation grows stronger. It's not quite a voice, not quite a presence, but something that whispers through the movements themselves.

My left foot slides forward just as some instinct tells me it should, just as Jackson does the exact same thing.

It's as though the dance is revealing itself to us through a voice that only we can hear, and with each beat, I feel something stirring below.

We rock steadily back and forth with one foot solidly planted into the ground, like fishermen hauling in a full net, and the presence grows stronger. It's taken our invitation.

A soft gurgling sound rises from the well's opening, like water churning in a wash basin.

I know Jackson hears it too, but we are too deep into the frenzy of the dance to even exchange a look.

We're striding across a knife's edge with no space for error or lapse in concentration.

A single mistake, and the elemental will completely disappear from this place.

We swing our hands and clasp them together, and with a final pull, the surface of the well begins to shimmer with captured starlight.

The water reaches the edge, but doesn't spill over as I expect—instead, it flows upward into the night air, gathering itself into a sphere the size of a man's head that hovers just above the well's opening.

It pulses with soft, silvery light, its surface rippling like liquid silver.

Its aura is ancient and surprisingly gentle after the corrupted elementals we encountered in the valley.

The dance ends with a stomp. Jackson's heart pounds so hard I can feel the pulse through his palm where our fingers are interlocked. It's the only thing keeping us upright after such an exertion, and we're so in need of water that not even a bead of sweat manages to form on our parched skin.

The elemental floats closer, bubbling and rippling. I sense no hostility. It feels like a curious young creature, wanting to get a closer look at the two strangers who have woken it.

"It's kinda cute," Jackson remarks.

Without any warning, the elemental suddenly bursts forward and expands several times greater than its original size.

Before we can react, it surrounds both of our heads.

I can't move. It has me gripped tightly within its liquid body.

Even through the blur I can see the shock in Jackson's eyes.

He lets go of my hand and grabs the front of my robe. He's trying to break us both out.

Breathe .

The command comes not as a word or a voice, but a feeling.

In my state of panic, it goes unheeded, and it isn't until it comes again that I realize what it is.

Convincing my body to ignore its most primal survival instincts is not a simple task.

It takes all of my willpower to allow my lungs to relax and release.

The first breath comes like a gulp, and I nearly choke on what fills me.

Air. Or at least, that's how it feels. Pure air, though there are no bubbles as I exhale.

Can Jackson hear what it's telling us?

No. He's fighting too hard. He's thrashing to push the elemental off, but his hands plunge right through it. I grab him by the shoulders and shake him, trying to get him to look at me, but he's not paying attention. He thinks I'm struggling too.

How do I get him to pay attention? He's going to lose consciousness if he doesn't stop.

A solution comes to my mind. It's a stupid solution, but I know it's one that will work. I don't have time to come up with anything else.

Don't kill me for doing this .

I move in to press my lips to his.