by Peyton Bogue
“Sage,” Rhys says, sighing softly. “You know what I am. You know how strong I am. He’s not going to hurt me.”
“He could,” Sage says, grinding his teeth. “If you don’t take the lethal options, he could, Rhys.”
“So, what are you saying?” Rhys asks, huffing. “You want me to kill him? That’s what you want?”
“No, Rhys!” Sage says, frustrated. “I want the opposite. I want you to trust me enough to get all of us out of this situation before you’re forced to accept a challenge where you kill another living being.”
“That’s not—” Rhys starts, cutting himself off with a frustrated growl. He takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair before continuing, “I do trust you.”
“Then what’s the problem, Rhys?”
“It’s him I don’t trust. We don’t know if he can control himself, Sage. The problem,” Rhys says, growling again, “is that he is dangerous. We don’t know what he could do to you if he gets you alone, Sage. He could literally decide to rip you apart.”
“Rhys. . .” Sage trails off, exhaling deeply. His arms fall from his chest, and he moves from the doorway. He takes only a few steps, stopping in front of Rhys. Rhys looks up at him with hardened eyes and a clenched jaw. He looks even more brooding and statuesque, his body taut and unmoving as if it was carved from marble.
“You’re so. . .” Rhys starts, making an aggravated sound. “You’re so breakable, Sage. I know that you can handle yourself, and I trust you to do that. I believe in you. I believe that you can talk him down peacefully.” He pauses, slowly and purposefully relaxing his body and taking a deep breath. He reaches his right hand out, gently resting it on Sage’s hip. “But the thought of this werewolf being alone with you. . .or—touching you— it just. . . it makes me so mad that I feel like I can’t even breathe.”
Sage watches as the fight leaves Rhys’s eyes, as the fire within them dims and disappears. He takes another step forward, letting Rhys pull him in, and buries his fingers into Rhys’s soft hair.
Sage knows that Rhys isn’t really angry at him. Everything he’s saying isn’t really a shock. Sage knew that Rhys wouldn’t want him to be alone with Steele. Steele had scented Sage to let Rhys know that he was here, to antagonize him. If anything, the last thing Rhys wants right now is for Sage to be alone with a werewolf that he feels threatened by. Steele might not actually be a threat to Rhys, but he’s a threat to Sage. There’s no way that Rhys is going to be content with letting Sage be alone with Steele.
“There's a part of me that wants to let you do this,” Rhys says quietly, but he continues to rest his forehead against Sage’s chest, not meeting Sage’s eyes. “I’m not going to make choices for you. I’m not going to tell you that I won’t let you be alone with him. I respect your decisions and your opinions, and I trust you, Sage. But there’s another part of me that just—can’t wrap my head around letting you do something this dangerous. I can’t—I’m just—” Rhys bites off with another growl, and Sage runs his nails lightly over Rhys’s scalp to soothe him.
“You’re scared,” Sage says, and Rhys makes a low sound of agreement in his throat.
“I’m terrified,” he corrects, nuzzling his face right over Sage’s heart. “You’re the one person I can’t live without, and I’m afraid he’s going to use you against me.”
Stage takes a deep breath, nodding even though Rhys isn’t looking at him. “I know,” he says softly. “I’m afraid, too. I don’t want him to hurt you, Rhys. I can’t even think about you getting hurt. I can’t live without you, either. But I’m a distraction for you. If you’re busy worrying over me, he could use your protective instincts against you. It wouldn’t matter if you’re stronger or smarter than him.”
“I’ll always choose you over anything else,” Rhys says resolutely. “You’re my only priority.”
“I know,” Sage repeats. “You’re my priority, too. But I don’t think that does us much good, Ree. You have to trust me enough to let me do this.”
“Baby, I do trust you,” Rhys replies, his voice soft. He runs his hands up and down Sage’s sides slowly. “I’m just so worried. My wolf is seething at the thought of you being anywhere near another werewolf. I know I’m being overprotective and selfish, but if you get hurt because of this—because of me—I’ll never forgive myself, Sage. I’m so fucking scared.”
Sage hugs Rhys’s face closer to his chest, his heart aching at the fear in Rhys’s voice.
“Everything I’ve ever loved in my life has been taken away from me,” Rhys says, his voice thick with emotion, “except you. I can’t stand the thought of losing you, too.”
“No one is going to take me away from you, Rhys,” Sage says, and he feels like his heart is breaking in two at the vulnerability in Rhys’s voice, the raw emotion of his deep tenor filling Sage’s veins with ice. “Not Steele, not anything. I won’t let them. And I won’t let anything take you away from me, either.”
He says his words carefully, with conviction, like if he says them as uncompromising as he means them, they’ll be true, etched into the universe like a warning. A warning to anyone who tries to tear them apart.
“I wish there was another way,” Rhys says quietly, so low Sage barely hears him. “I wish he would just leave and spare the mess I know he intends to make.”
“I do, too,” Sage sighs. “But I really do think this is the only way, Ree. I want him gone just as badly as you do.”
Rhys nods from his place against Sage’s chest, moving his hands to wrap around Sage’s waist. He inhales deeply, exhaling a soft sigh.
“If we do this,” he starts, leaning back so he can look into Sage’s eyes, “I want to be there.”
“That might not be—” Sage starts, but Rhys shakes his head.
“I want to be at the masquerade,” he says, cutting Sage off gently, “to make sure that you and Kai are both kept safe. Please don’t ask me to stay away. I can’t do that. Not when you’re going to be alone with him. ”
Sage sighs, moving his hand to the base of Rhys’s neck and rubbing his thumb over Rhys’s feverish skin. He can’t argue with Rhys wanting to ensure he and Kai’s safety, and he can’t ask Rhys not to go.
Rhys attending the masquerade defeats the purpose of Sage ensuring that he doesn’t somehow end up hurt, but he should have known that Rhys would ask this of him. It’s too much to ask him to let Sage walk into a room with another werewolf and also ask him not to be there in case anything goes awry.
“Okay,” Sage relents. “We’ll sneak you in. There’s going to be a lot of security, though. We’re going to have to be careful.” At Rhys’s own nod, Sage continues, “When Steele and I are talking, you don’t get to interfere.”
Rhys opens his mouth, already making another frustrated sound, but Sage says, “It’s called a compromise, Ree. You can listen in, right? You’ll know what we both say. You’ll know if anything. . .happens.”
Rhys stares up at him, frowning and brooding. “I’ll only step in if I need to,” he finally says, shaking his head again when Sage starts to protest. “If he gets violent with you,” Rhys growls, “I’ll break his fucking hands. I don’t think I could control myself enough to stand by if I hear him hurting you. But I won’t interfere unless I need to.” He pauses. “Compromise?”
Sage bites his lip, but he nods. That sounds fair.
“If you broke his hands, wouldn’t he heal just as quickly as you do?”
Rhys shakes his head. “No. Wounds inflicted by an Alpha take longer to heal. I’d heal as fast as I normally would if he were to break my hand, but he wouldn’t be healed up for a few days if I broke his.”
“No breaking each other’s hands,” Sage says seriously. “The goal is to do this peacefully, Ree.”
Rhys resolutely shakes his head, before he looks back up at Sage with a scowl, his eyes stern.
“If he lays a hand on you, I swear to God—”
“Rhys,” Sage interrupts him softly, laying his hands on bot
h sides of Rhys’s face. “I know.”
Rhys snarls a little, but he loosens his grip around Sage’s waist so Sage can climb into his lap. Rhys’s arms circle back around him once he’s situated, and Sage presses a light kiss to Rhys’s lips, pulling back with a small smile.
“Everything is going to be fine,” he says quietly, but each word is punctuated. He needs Rhys to believe them as much as he does.
Rhys nods slowly, trying to make himself accept the words, and presses their foreheads together, running his thumbs along the base of Sage’s spine. It’s quiet for a moment, but Rhys eventually says, “I shouldn’t have said that I was mad at you. I’m not mad at you. I’m just mad at this situation. I’ve had the entire day today to just. . .think about you being in danger like that, and I. . . kind of freaked out a little bit.”
“I know,” Sage repeats, gently running his thumb over Rhys’s cheekbone. “I know you’re scared. I am, too. But we’re in this together, Ree. You, me, and Kai. We’re all on the same side, and everything’s going to be fine.”
Rhys takes a deep breath, exhaling sharply before he closes the space between them. His warm lips send a current down Sage’s spine, and Sage relaxes completely into him, letting Rhys’s embrace envelop him.
Rhys pulls away so he can rest their foreheads together again, a small smile on his lips. “If I wasn’t out of my mind with worry for you, I’d actually be excited that we were going to a ball together, even if it is a little cliché.”
His words are supposed to make Sage laugh or smile, to make this horrible situation a little more bearable, but Sage freezes as the words sink into his brain, and he can’t help but to grimace slightly as vestiges of guilt curl in his abdomen.
Somehow, Hazel hasn’t come up at all during their discussion about the masquerade, and Sage was somewhat hoping that he could put it off for a while, that he could avoid telling Rhys until he absolutely needed to.
But Rhys sounds so sincere and sweet with his words, and Sage feels slightly uncomfortable keeping his impending date away from him when Rhys is practically telling Sage that he’d actually like to take him out to a ball, even though Rhys hardly ever wants to go out on dates that consist of him being around anyone else but Sage.
It’s not fair to keep something as important as him going on a date with another person away from Rhys, even though it’s technically a pretend date. He’d probably get a little jealous if their roles were reversed, no matter how secure he feels in their relationship. The thought of seeing Rhys on a date with anyone but him makes Sage's blood boil a little.
Rhys pulls away slightly when Sage doesn’t answer, most likely smelling the guilt that’s scrambling Sage’s insides. He looks into Sage’s eyes with a furrowed brow, his gray eyes quizzical. Sage hesitates, fighting back another grimace.
“I—um. . .need to tell you something,” Sage says, and then can’t hold back his grimace when he hears how pathetic he sounds. He clears his throat, continuing, “And I need you not to get angry.”
“Angry? Why would I get angry?” Rhys asks, tilting his head to the side.
Sage hesitates again. “Just. . .please remember that I love you and that you have nothing to be worried about,” he says. Rhys’s face scrunches up in confusion, and Sage would think it were adorable if he weren’t so overcome with nerves.
“Sage, what—”
“For the ball,” Sage says, cutting Rhys off. “We’re all going undercover.” Rhys watches him with an unreadable look, and Sage takes a deep breath. “Mikalina, Kai, me, and. . .Hazel.” Rhys stares at him blankly, as if he doesn’t understand why Sage’s telling him this, or that he’d already assumed that everyone Sage had listed would be at the masquerade, too. “Mikalina and Kai are going together, and Hazel and I are going together.”
“Okay,” Rhys says slowly, confused, and Sage bites back a frustrated sigh because Rhys is not getting it.
“It’s a ball,” Sage tells him. “So, we have to pair off. As in, like, couples. Mikalina is Kai’s date, and Hazel is my date.”
“Date,” Rhys repeats, his arms falling from around Sage’s waist. He rests his hands on Sage’s thighs, and Sage locks his hands around Rhys’s neck, afraid that Rhys is trying pull away from him as Rhys continues, “You’re going on a date with Hazel?”
“Well,” Sage starts, and his voice wavers profanely. He clears his throat again. “Technically, it’s just a pretend date. We have to blend in. It makes it easier to. . .accomplish what we’re trying to accomplish, I guess?”
His explanation falls flat even to his own ears.
Rhys doesn’t say anything, and each passing second that he’s silent only makes Sage even more nervous. He mostly expected Rhys to get angry, maybe even yell, but he hadn’t anticipated that Rhys might say nothing at all.
“Okay,” Rhys says after a full minute passes. Sage watches him carefully.
“Okay?” he repeats timidly.
“Yes,” Rhys says, his expression unreadable.
“That’s it?” Sage asks, surprised. “You’re okay with it?”
Rhys huffs. “No, I’m not okay with it. There’s not really anything I can do about it, though, is there?”
“Um,” Sage says, biting his lip. “No, I guess not.”
Rhys sighs loudly, bringing one of his hands up to run down his face. “I’m not exactly thrilled that you’re going on another date with her,” he says, and Sage is momentarily thrown. Realization comes to him only a few seconds later. Rhys is referring to Laila’s engagement party, when he and Hazel accompanied each other for a mutual outing. “Especially when she’s definitely got some kind of crush on you. But I know that you don’t feel anything for her, and I’m secure enough in our relationship to know that this. . . date doesn’t mean anything. It’s for work, Sage. You’re just doing your job. It’s not something I’m happy about, but I wouldn’t get mad at you over it.”
“I did kind expect you to get angry with me,” Sage admits, and Rhys furrows his eyebrows again.
“Why?”
“Well,” Sage says tentatively, shrugging, “you’re not in control of yourself right now. You’ve been very growly and hostile towards anyone who looks at me too long, and I kind of expected you to react the same way. I don’t fault you for that,” Sage says quickly when Rhys frowns at him. “I know you can’t control how you feel right now.”
“Sage,” Rhys says solemnly, “that’s awful!”
“What?” Sage blinks at him, thrown off guard. “Why?”
“Because,” Rhys says indignantly, “if you feel like you can’t tell me something like that because you’re afraid that I’m going to get angry at you over it, then I haven’t been a very good boyfriend, and I’m sorry for that. You can always tell me anything, baby. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn’t. I am jealous,” he admits, “and I kind of want to rip her head off just so she’s not able to look at you ever again. I’m not going to,” he says quickly when Sage opens his mouth, “and I think that urge is just something to do with whatever’s been going on with me. I know that there really isn’t a reason to be jealous. And you’re right, I can’t really control myself right now, but I’ve been working on it, and I don’t think it’s the full moon. I don’t ever want you to be scared of my reactions, Sage. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not, Ree,” Sage says quickly. “I promise.”
“I love you,” Rhys says, and his arms wrap around Sage’s waist again, and Sage gives him a grin.
“I love you, too,” Sage replies immediately, leaning down so he can bring their lips together. He pulls away after a second, quietly asking, “You don’t think that it’s the full moon that’s making you act like this?”
Rhys shakes his head. “No. I think you were right that something else is going on. I’ve started reading through my ma’s old journals to see if this ever happened to her. I don’t know if this is only ever something that’s happened to all werewolves or just Alphas.”
“Have you found a
nything?” Sage asks softly, trying not to show how stunned he is by Rhys’s admission. Rhys never reads through his mother’s journals. He’s always thought reading her words would be too painful.
“No,” Rhys says, sighing, “but I have a few more to go through.”
Sage nods. “What if you don’t find anything?”
“I’ll go back to my family’s storage unit and dig out the rest of her journals,” Rhys answers, but his voice is tense. “If anyone’s going to know what’s going on with me, it’s her. Even if it does end up being some weird affect from the moon.”
Sage nods again, moving his hands from around Rhys’s neck to rest them on his throat, leaning down and kissing him again. Rhys kisses him slowly, and Sage’s body feels electric as Rhys’s lips move against his.
He’s not sure how long they stay like that, but eventually, Rhys pulls away from him, smiling softly. “Let’s go eat our food,” he says. “Even if it’s probably cold by now.”
Sage smiles at him. Even though Rhys was angry and scared, he still took the time to pick them both up something to eat. He’s still looking out for Sage, even when he’s frustrated.
“We can warm it up,” he says against Rhys’s lips, and Rhys chuckles, gripping Sage’s thighs and lifting him up into the air.
The sound of their laughter echoes off of the bedroom walls, and Sage feels nothing but affection as he allows Rhys to carry him from their bedroom.
ELEVEN
The rest of the days up until the ball are. . .different, to say the least.
The weekend passes by with a flourish of both Sage and Kai working extensively on their case files, occasionally taking small breaks to pour over their plan for the masquerade in Mickalina’s office with Hazel.