Come for me, I command.
Her climax comes in powerful waves, her inner walls clenching around both my invading tentacles. The sensation triggers my release, my cum pumping into her in hot pulses until it overflows into the water.
For several minutes, we float suspended in the aftermath, my tentacles still buried inside her, her mind a hazy blur of satisfaction against mine. Gradually, I withdraw from her body, turning her to face me once more.
Her expression is dazed, her lips parted as tiny bubbles escape with each breath. Through our fading mental link, I feel her bone-deep satisfaction mingled with wonder. I gather her against my chest, my tentacles cocooning her for a few rejuvenating minutes.
I could stay with her like this for hours, but I know human bodies are fragile.We should return to the surface, I tell her reluctantly.
Her disappointment flows through our link.So soon?
Another time, we can stay longer, I promise.But for your first experience, it’s best not to push your limits.
I guide us slowly upward. As we approach the surface, a flash of white light cuts through the water—artificial and harsh.
Someone’s out there, she realizes, her alarm spiking through me.
I pull us deeper immediately, swimming horizontally rather than surfacing.
Nighttime fishing vessel, I explain, recognizing the distinctive searchlight pattern.
We stay submerged, moving quickly through darker waters until we’re safely away. Only then do I bring us to the surface, emerging beneath an overhang of rock.
Ashe gasps as her head breaks the water, pulling in familiar air. The moonlight catches the droplets on her skin, making her appear almost ethereal.
“That was close,” she whispers, her voice hoarse.
“Too close,” I agree, helping her toward shore. “Such encounters will only increase as summer progresses.”
She’s quiet as I guide her back to land, the weight of our shared predicament settling upon us both. The essence-sharing has begun to fade, our mental connection weakening, but I can still sense the conflict within her—the lingering pleasure of our underwater coupling giving way to the stark reality of our situation.
Once ashore, I wrap her in the blanket I’d set aside earlier, noting how she leans into my touch with an easy familiarity that makes me feel something dangerously close to hope.
“We can’t live like this forever,” she says finally, voicing the thought that has been haunting us both. “Stolen moments. Always looking over our shoulders.”
“No,” I agree. “We cannot.”
Back in the cabin, exhaustion overcomes us both. I watch her drift to sleep in my grasp, her expression peaceful despite the complications that await us. I allow myself to imagine a different world—one where I could walk beside her without fear, where our connection need not be hidden.
As she shifts closer in her sleep, one hand unconsciously seeking mine, I wonder if perhaps it’s time to emerge from the shadows. Cape Tempest may never fully welcome one such as me, but for her sake, I would risk the attempt.
This stolen happiness, these hidden encounters—they sustain me, but they aren’t enough for her. Ashe deserves a companion who can stand beside her in daylight, not merely a lover who appears with the tide and vanishes with the dawn.
As sleep finally claims me, one thought persists: something must change. For both our sakes.
Chapter 14
Fading Magic
Ashe
I wake from a dream with the phantom sensation of water pressure against my skin. It’s been three days since Roark and I shared his essence—since I experienced the ocean through his eyes—and my body still remembers.
The lighthouse feels emptier than it ever did before I met him. Funny how quickly loneliness can become solitude, then back to loneliness again.
Outside my window, the morning fog hangs thick over Cape Tempest, obscuring the water where I know he’s swimming. No tours today, thank God.
I press my palm against the cold glass, watching fog collect around the heat of my hand. How many lighthouse keepers before me stood at this same window, waiting for someone to return from the sea?
