Chapter Forty
Jay
Awaterfall filters into a large, natural pool in the center. The only light in the space is the moonlight that shines from a gap in the rock ceiling. Completely untouched by society, everything sparkles under the stars.
“Wow,” I scan my surroundings. “This is . . . amazing. It reminds me of the place your mother told me about.”
“My mother told you about this place?”
“I think so.” I run my hand along the rock wall. Little specks of crystals glitter under the moonlight. “I’m assuming she did, based on what she described. It has to be. I don’t know many places that look like this.”
Night sky petunias bloom and thrive in this environment. Unlike the flowers above ground, these glow. Little bright-colored orbs emit from them, floating up to the cave’s opening, where they find homage in the stars and moon above.
Caleb frowns.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No. I’m just surprised she told you. Besides the crown, no one else knows about this place.” Caleb leans against a rock, crossing his arms, watching me take in this oasis.
“Why keep it a secret?”
“To protect it. People tend to ruin beautiful things.” Caleb stares at me with such intensity, I have to look away. When I do, he clears his throat. “Especially things they don’t understand. It’s the wolf leaders’ sanctuary, away from the public eye.”
“Then why show it to me?”
“Because beautiful things should be seen by those who can appreciate them.” Caleb sees me eyeing the rippling water. He pushes himself off from the rock and strolls over to the pool. He bends to touch it, then stands, nodding in approval at the temperature.
The way he speaks is so general, but it feels so personal. So . . . intimate.
“So . . . you trust me?” I grin playfully, daring him to drop his ego and admit something.
Caleb peels his shirt over his head, and his pecs and abs contract. He tosses it to the side, then unbuttons and unzips his shorts.
I can’t help but stare as he undresses. Only when he catches me do I glance elsewhere, blushing.
He chuckles. “I wouldn’t go as far as to say that . . . I’d say I’m learning to trust myself.”
“To do what?”
“To love something out loud.”
My breath hitches, and I have to fight to keep my racing heart at bay. “Is that something you want?”
Caleb is gloriously naked, and every hard-earned muscle and Goddess-given feature is highlighted by the moonlight and shadows.
At the sight, heat encompasses my body like a hot flash.
He drops into the water and dips his entire self under the surface. When Caleb resurfaces, he faces me, combing his hair back. He exhales. “More than anything. When I love something, I want everyone to know.”
There’s a heaviness that wafts through the air with his statement. I sit on the pool’s edge with my feet dangling in the water. I lean back on my hands, thinking over his words. “Say you decided to share this place with the rest of the pack. What’s the worst that could happen?”
His eyes drift to the natural ceiling, taking a thoughtful moment to think over his answer. “People will know about it, but they won’t appreciate it the way I do. They might even go as far as to destroy it when I’m not around.”
“You seem so certain, but how do you know for sure your people are going to disappoint you?”
For a moment, he’s silent, nulling over my question. He shrugs one shoulder. “I guess I don’t.”
“And . . . if you don’t share it?”
“Then I suffer in silence.”
I remember reading a parable about suffering in philosophical Buddhist texts.
The first arrow symbolizes inevitable pain, suffering we can’t control.
The second illustrates how we internalize and react to the first arrow.
It’s what we can control—our emotions and actions.
If we spiral, we can make the pain much worse than it is.
Which begs the question: would he suffer for me?
“And you know you will? Suffer, I mean.”
“If it means protecting it, yes.”
The confidence in his tone shocks my core. “You’d rather risk your own happiness because there’s a chance that someone else won’t respond the way you’d like them to?”
Caleb shakes his head, rejecting my conclusion. “It’s—It’s more complicated than that.”
But something in my gut tells me it’s not. Perhaps the only thing that’s complicated is his worldview—the one I’ve challenged, and now turned upside down.
Before I can check my theory, he lifts chin in the direction of the water. “Get in. I want to show you something.”
There’s so much more to talk about, and I shouldn’t be trusted to skinny dip with this man, but logic isn’t driving me.
I peel off my dress and ease myself into the natural pool.
Inch by inch, deeper and deeper, I sink.
The waterline rises up my body, covering me like the clothes I left on the shore.
Only my shoulders stick out from the water’s surface as I stand at full height.
Caleb extends his arms to me. As I wade toward him, his eyes flash gold. The world around me slows as I cross the threshold to place my hands—and trust—in him. He walks backward toward the waterfall that roars behind him. “Can you swim?”
“Not very well.”
“But you can hold your breath.”
I successfully fight the urge to combat my nerves with a dirty joke and nod.
“Can you trust me?” He beams with excitement behind his loaded question.
His eyes twinkle with mischief, and I’m intrigued.
I bite my lip. “Just this once.”
He stops us at the waterfall, and for a moment, we stand in the center of the mystical pool, speaking only with our eyes. Our gaze drifts to the full moon glowing from the cave above, as if higher powers had drawn us together. Our eyes return to each other.
“Ready?” he asks.
I don’t know what I’m meant to be ready for, but I trust he’ll make sure I can handle it.
At my nod, he turns. “Get on my back.” I wrap my arms and legs around him. He peers over his shoulder at me and says, “No matter what, don’t let go and hold your breath.” Then he submerges us in the water.
With the exception of the white noise of the plunging waterfall, the world of blue is much quieter than ours.
What I suspected would be an enclosed cave in a shallow pool has an opening in the wall. A glow from beyond it shines into this enclosure, suggesting an entire other world awaits. The heavenly welcome tempts us to cross over.
Caleb swims with ease into the ethereal light, and I grip him tighter as we get closer. When we pass through, it’s like we’ve descended into a whole other universe—one where I don’t have to hold my breath.
Holy cow, I can breathe here.
Almost immediately, that fact is the least exciting thing about this place. The sight alone takes my breath away.
The small opening was incredibly deceiving—this is an oceanic underworld. A long-forgotten city contained within this mythical, watery realm.
Man couldn’t make such beauty.
Bioluminescent fuchsia, cerulean and amethyst jellyfish of all sizes swarm in a pod.
Thousands of matching-colored crystal clusters in all sizes glow with a heartbeat on the sandy floor.
Fish and other sea creatures weave in and out of them like a civilization that thrives off of its energy and orbit it like it’s their sun.
Caleb’s words echo in my mind, emphasizing his fear that something so beautiful could be destroyed. Maybe this place is his church. And if it is, does he worship it?
It? Or us? my wolf asks.
I’m hoping for the latter.
Caleb peers over his shoulder, smirking, likely wanting to capture the look on my face at my introduction to this phenomenon.
As if that weren’t enough, a colony of eels and other mystical fish drifts above us. Their ghostly, translucent bodies float without intent. They’re the most mesmerizing creatures to watch.
I have heard of this place. A magical ecosystem that thrives on remnants of earth’s magic seeping into the roots, needing nothing more to survive.
Like this place, I’m not meant to be understood.
I exist because I deserve to belong—or at least to claim a peaceful existence.
Despite what our realm can’t seem to grasp, belonging isn’t up to anyone else, but the self.
It started and ended as the decision of a heavenly being higher than all of us.
She decided. For everyone else, it’s only meant to be a feeling.
Caleb and I don’t belong down here, but the realm isn’t bothered by our presence. That isn’t to say something else might not feel differently but like the first arrow, I can’t control that. For the time being, I can only choose to not suffer by being present.
Below, flat rock paths glow, leading to a structure resembling the base of a castle tower. Rock is eroded on almost every side to form arched doorways.
Caleb swims us down, and we float above the stairs.
When we enter, I look up. Crystals decorate the walls and translucent luminous fish circle the space, spiraling upward.
Like a tower, they seem to travel for miles, creating a sort of surface resembling a ceiling.
We join their swim, navigating through the center of their tunnel.
Panting, Caleb pulls me around his body to hold me to him with one arm, while the other treads water.
He floats us over to the rock in the center of the pool.
Once we both climb onto it, we roll onto our backs to stare up at the ceiling, catching our breath.
Our chests heave up and down with every breath.
“Wow.”
Caleb pants. “Amazing, right?”
I can’t even form the words to describe the experience we just had. “Wow,” I say again.
Caleb lets out a breathy laugh.
I roll to my side, propping myself up onto my elbow. “I mean . . . the power in this place!”
He rolls onto his side as well, facing me. “I know. I feel it, too.”
My wolf shakes herself dry, then wags her tail. I think he’s talking about us!
I think so, too.
I think back to our earlier conversation. There’s so much left unsaid, much like all of our interactions.