Page 64 of Wicked Depths

But because I want to.

Because she is mine, and I am hers.

Chapter

Sixteen

VAELA

Iwake to fire.

Not the searing kind that devours, but the kind that lingers—smoldering, possessive, inescapable.

To the weight of Nyxara draped over me, her arm slung around my waist, her claws twitching lightly against my hip, as if even in sleep, she refuses to let me go.

To the scent of embers and something distinctly hers curling in the air, sinking into my skin, wrapping around me like an unspoken claim.

For the first time since this dangerous, sharp-edged war between us began, there is no battle of wills, no biting remarks meant to wound, no fight for control.

Just heat.

Just her.

The Dragon Queen sleeps. A rare thing, I imagine. A forbidden thing. Yet here she is—her features relaxed, her breathing even, as if, for just this moment, she has let go of the ever-present war burning in her blood.

And I should let her sleep.

I should stay in this moment, revel in it, drown in it, pretend that for once, the world beyond these walls does not exist.

But illusions do not last.

A soft pulse ripples through the water, a gentle but urgent nudge against my consciousness.

I blink, my body tensing beneath Nyxara’s warmth as a familiar glow flickers at the edge of the chamber. Lumis and the others have come—my jellyfish, my silent messengers of the deep. They hover just beyond the threshold, their tendrils pulsing with agitation, shifting from their usual soft blue to a sharp, uneasy violet.

Something has happened.

They would not wake me unless it was urgent. And if they’ve come all this way—if they can sense the weight of something wrong even from the depths of my realm—then I already know.

It isn’t good.

I exhale sharply, my mind already racing ahead, already reaching for what needs to be done. But first…

I shift beneath Nyxara’s hold, fingers trailing up her spine, pressing just beneath the sharp ridge of her shoulder blade. Her breath hitches, and in an instant, those glowing emerald eyes snap open, locking onto mine.

I don’t give her time to speak, to question, to snarl at being woken.

“We have to go,” I murmur, my voice steady despite the unease curling in my gut. “Something’s wrong.”

Nyxara studies me for the briefest moment, the remnants of sleep fading swiftly as she takes in the glow of my jellyfish in the doorway, the way they pulse with warning. Her expression hardens.

She doesn’t argue.

In a single fluid movement, she pushes up from the bed, reaching for her discarded gown, and I do the same, summoning my bodice from where it had been carelessly tossed the nightbefore. The moment the clasps click into place, I lift my hands, calling to the waters.

The portal forms before us in an instant, spinning into a dark, shimmering arch, the current bending at my will.

Nyxara steps beside me, her expression unreadable, her jaw set, her fingers flexing at her sides. Neither of us speak. We don’t need to. Together, we step through the portal. And when we emerge, we are not greeted by victory.

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