Chapter 5

5

PHOEBE

P hoebe sat cross-legged near the dying embers of the fire, her jacket pulled tightly around her shoulders to ward off the early morning chill. Her ribs ached, her arm throbbed, and her body begged for rest, but her mind refused to comply. Instead, her focus drifted to Jonah, standing just outside the cave’s entrance like a statue carved from the mountain itself.

He hadn’t moved much since he’d taken his position hours ago, his broad shoulders outlined against the faint light of the predawn sky. His head was tilted slightly, listening for sounds that didn’t belong, his posture radiating the kind of calm vigilance that came from years of practice. Phoebe couldn’t tear her eyes away.

There was something in the way he stood—rigid yet unshakable—that fascinated her. She’d seen men in control before, but Jonah’s control wasn’t about appearances. It wasn’t a mask to hide fear or insecurity. It was something deeper, something unyielding. She envied it as much as it unnerved her.

“Are you going to stare all night?” Jonah’s voice broke the quiet, his tone low and steady. He didn’t turn around.

Phoebe flushed, caught off guard. “How did you?—?”

“You’re not exactly subtle,” he interrupted, finally glancing over his shoulder. His eyes locked on hers, pinning her in place. “Something on your mind?”

She hesitated, the weight of his gaze making her pulse quicken. “You’ve been out there for hours. Don’t you ever rest or get cold?”

Jonah smiled faintly, his lips curving just enough to soften his otherwise hard features. “Someone has to keep watch. You’re not exactly in fighting shape.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes, though her chest tightened at the reminder of her injuries. “I didn’t ask for a babysitter.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said, his smile fading as his expression turned serious. “But you got one anyway.”

She bristled at his tone, her pride pricked. “I can take care of myself.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jonah replied, his voice edged with dry amusement. He turned back toward the forest, his shoulders tensing slightly as he scanned the horizon. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. But you’re not out here by choice. I am.”

Phoebe opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself, her gaze lingering on his back. There it was again, that wall he carried so effortlessly. He wasn’t just keeping her safe—he was keeping her at a distance.

And she hated how much that bothered her.

“Why do you do that?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Jonah glanced at her again, his brow furrowing. “Do what?”

“Shut people out.” She gestured vaguely toward him, frustration creeping into her tone. “You act like the world’s your responsibility, but God forbid anyone gets too close.”

His eyes narrowed, and she thought he might snap back. Instead, he took a slow breath, turning fully to face her. “You’re assuming I have anyone to shut out.”

The quiet way he said it made her stomach twist. She recognized the loneliness in his words, the kind she’d spent years burying beneath her own walls. It was a strange thing, to see her reflection in someone like Jonah—a man so different, so maddeningly self-sufficient. But the connection was there, undeniable and unsettling.

“Maybe you don’t,” she said carefully. “But you’re still doing it to me.”

Jonah’s jaw tightened, his gaze searching hers for something she wasn’t sure she could give. “Why does that matter to you?”

The question caught her off guard, and she hesitated. She didn’t have an answer—or at least not one she wanted to admit. “I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe because it feels like I’m not the only one carrying around too much.”

For a long moment, Jonah didn’t move. The tension in the air thickened, and Phoebe felt her heart racing as he stepped closer, his broad frame looming over her. Bending down so they were eye level, his intense blue gaze locking onto hers.

“You think you’ve got me figured out?” he asked quietly, his voice a low rumble.

Phoebe swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears. “No. But I think you’ve got yourself figured out, and you don’t like what you see.”

Jonah’s lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re braver than you look, you know that?”

“Or stupider,” she muttered, her cheeks heating.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near growl. “Both, maybe. But you’re not wrong.”

Phoebe’s breath caught, her body tensing as his proximity sent a shiver down her spine. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the raw strength he carried so effortlessly. And yet, there was something else—something vulnerable, something she wanted to reach out and touch, even if it burned her.

Before she could speak, Jonah stood abruptly, the moment breaking like a snapped branch. “Get some rest,” he said, his voice gruff again. “We’ll need to move soon.”

Phoebe watched him return to his post, frustration and something else swirling in her chest. He was impossible, infuriating—and yet she couldn’t stop the pull she felt toward him. She’d spent her whole life keeping people at arm’s length, but out here, hunted and vulnerable, she was realizing just how much she craved connection.

And right now, Jonah, for all his walls and secrets, was the person she wanted it with.

Phoebe stirred, her senses sluggish but aware of the chill that had crept into the cave. The fire had burned low, its embers casting faint shadows against the stone walls. She blinked, her vision adjusting to the dim light, and froze.

A massive snow leopard stood just beyond the firelight, its pale coat almost glowing in the faint flicker of flames. Its icy blue eyes locked onto hers, unblinking, as if it were studying her.

Phoebe’s breath hitched, her pulse racing as she sat up slowly. The animal didn’t move, its gaze intent but not hostile. It wasn’t fear that held her in place, but awe—a strange, magnetic pull that made it impossible to look away.

“What the—” she whispered, her voice trailing off into the stillness.

The snow leopard purred—deep and low—and arousal surged through her, making her pussy pulse in rhythm with her heart.

The snow leopard took a single step closer, its movements fluid and deliberate. Then, without warning, a mist began to rise around it, curling up from the ground like smoke. The air seemed to hum, charged with an energy that made Phoebe’s skin tingle. She blinked, her heart pounding, and when she looked again, the leopard was gone.

In its place stood Jonah.

The mist dissipated slowly, revealing him fully—naked, his powerful frame illuminated by the firelight. His eyes, so much like the snow leopard’s, met hers, and for a moment, neither of them said a word, the silence thick with unspoken questions and a tension that left her breathless.

“Jonah,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Phoebe’s heart pounded as she stared at him, her world tilting on its axis. Whatever she had thought about Jonah before, whatever mysteries he had kept hidden, they paled in comparison to this.

He moved towards her, pushing her onto her back and settling himself between her thighs. Then, in a heartbeat, he was there, inside her, filling her completely where she needed him most. No hesitation, no second-guessing. It was just the two of them and this primal need she couldn’t deny.

His movements were relentless, a rhythm that matched the pounding in her ears.

“Come for me, Phoebe,” he rumbled to her, an order wrapped in velvet. His hand found its way to her swollen and pulsing clit and stroked it briefly as his name fell from her lips like a chant, spurring her on.

Jonah’s hands reached under her, holding her in place while he pounded into her, sparking bright spots of pleasure behind her eyes. He thrust himself so deep inside her, it was if they had become one.

The cave echoed with their primal cries as they surrendered to their feral desires. The danger they were in seemed to melt away, replaced by a fierce, all-consuming passion that left no room for fear or doubt. Phoebe clawed at his back, desperate to pull him closer, her nails leaving trails of blood and lust.

Their bodies moved in a frenzy, their pace matching the wild beating of their hearts. Sweat drenched their skin, mingling their scents into an intoxicating cocktail. The cold walls of the cave melted away under his touch, replaced by the fire that blazed between them.

Her sex pulsed with each thrust, each gasping breath, each ragged moan. She was lost in the rhythm, in the fire that burned within their joined flesh, in the desire that coursed through her veins. Phoebe arched against him, her back bowing as the sensations started to build into something that made her breath catch and the world narrow down to one pinpoint.

“Jonah!” she gasped out his name once more, everything sharpening into vivid sensation as she shattered around him, her climax tearing through her body as he gave a last hard thrust, grinding against her as he gave up his cum.

Phoebe woke to the sound of Jonah’s deep, steady voice cutting through the remnants of her erotic and confusing dream.

“Time to move,” he said, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. His touch was firm but careful, the warmth of his palm bleeding through the layers of the jacket.

She blinked, disoriented as the dim light of the cave came into focus. The fire was gone, leaving only faint traces of smoke and ash in the chilled air. Jonah was beside her, his face shadowed but no less commanding as his eyes locked onto hers.

“I just got comfortable,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep.

His lips quirked in the faintest hint of a smile. “Comfortable isn’t safe. Let’s go.”

Phoebe pushed herself upright, grimacing as the dull ache in her ribs and arm flared. Jonah didn’t miss it. He reached out to steady her, his hand lingering at her elbow as she found her footing. She wanted to bristle at his help, but the truth was, her body was betraying her, and she needed it.

“Thanks,” she said grudgingly, brushing ash from her pants.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replied, already turning toward the mouth of the cave. “I let you sleep longer than I should. We’re not out of this yet.”

His words brought the weight of reality crashing back. The danger. The pursuit. The knowledge that whoever was after her wouldn’t stop until they had the flight computer, her head or both.

Phoebe followed him out into the wilderness, pulling her jacket tighter around her. The forest stretched out before them, an endless maze of shadows and silence. Jonah moved with practiced ease, his steps silent against the uneven terrain, and she did her best to keep pace despite the protest of her injuries.

“You always this cheerful when you wake people up?” she asked, her breath visible in the cold air.

Jonah glanced back at her, his expression unreadable. “Only when their lives are on the line.”

“Just so you know, I’d trade you for a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin.”

“Good to know,” he muttered, but she could hear the amusement in his voice.

She quickened her pace to match his as they moved in silence. As the minutes stretched on, Phoebe found her guard slipping, piece by piece. It wasn’t the exhaustion or the fear that did it—she’d lived with both long enough to know how to push them aside. It was Jonah.

Something about the way he carried himself—the quiet confidence, the unyielding focus—felt like a tether, grounding her in the confusion that surrounded her. She hadn’t relied on anyone in years, hadn’t let herself need anyone. But Jonah wasn’t like the other people she’d known. He didn’t demand trust. He simply existed, a force of nature moving through the darkness with purpose.

“You’re good at this,” she said finally, her voice low.

He glanced at her, one brow lifting. “At what?”

“At... all of it.” She gestured vaguely to the forest. “Moving like you’re part of the terrain. Staying calm when everything’s falling apart. Keeping me alive.”

Jonah shrugged, his eyes scanning the path ahead. “It’s what I know.”

Phoebe frowned, watching him closely. “You say that like it’s the only thing you know.”

“It might be,” he said, his tone flat.

The admission sent a pang through her chest, though she couldn’t explain why. “That’s not true,” she said softly. “I’ve seen the way you look at things—animals, me. It’s like you’re weighing every move, every choice and how it will impact others. You don’t just survive. You think. You feel.”

Jonah stopped abruptly, turning to face her. The sudden shift made her stumble slightly, and his hands were on her, catching her before she could catch herself, strong and steady. “What are you getting at?” he asked, his voice low and measured.

Phoebe searched his face, her pulse quickening as his grip lingered on her arms. “I’m saying you’re more than whatever you’ve convinced yourself you are.”

His expression hardened, and he let her go, stepping back. “I am what I am.”

Phoebe’s frustration bubbled to the surface. “Why? Because you think no one else can handle what it is you think you are or what it is you really are? Or is it just you think I can’t?”

Jonah’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something she couldn’t name. “Because I’ve been down this road before,” he said finally, his voice edged with something raw. “And the last time I let someone get close, they didn’t make it out alive.”

The weight of his words hit her like a blow, and she struggled to find a response. She saw it now—the wall he’d built, the reason for it. But instead of pushing her away, it only made her want to break through it more.

“I’m not whoever it was,” she said quietly.

Jonah’s gaze softened, just enough to let her see the cracks beneath his armor. “No,” he said, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. “You’re not.”

They stood like that, the tension between them thick and electric. Phoebe’s breath hitched as his hand brushed hers, the smallest touch but enough to send a shiver racing down her spine.

“Come on,” he said finally, his voice softer now. “We’ve got to keep moving.”

Phoebe nodded, falling into step beside him. She didn’t say it, but something had shifted between them. The walls were still there, but she could see the cracks now, and for the first time in years, she felt the faintest spark of hope that she wasn’t as alone as she thought.