Sharpened Claws: A Gay Werewolf Romance

by Peyton Bogue

  Everything's a little fuzzy around the edges of his vision. It’s difficult to concentrate and he feels as if there is something else he should be doing. He’s missing something.

  Sage’s eyes must have closed at some point, but when Kai runs his cool hand over Sage's face again, he snaps them open and immediately squints against the harsh light slanting in through a window next to him before he blinks up at Kai’s worried face.

  “Kai,” he croaks, trying to move himself into a better position. He realizes a few seconds too late that he’s still connected to tubes and wires at his arms and chest and falls back onto the bed slowly with a hurt sound.

  “Hey, man,” Kai says easily, a false lightheartedness behind his voice that does nothing to hide his concern. He grabs a bedside remote that was sitting next to Sage’s leg and lifts Sage’s bed up so that he doesn’t have to strain himself to sit up straight. “Don’t try to move, buddy. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

  Sage groans as he stills himself, swallowing dryly. “What happened?” he asks after a moment, his throat raspy.

  “A lot,” Kai answers, quickly glancing behind his shoulder before he turns back around and meets Sage’s eyes again, a small frown on his lips. “Do you want some water?”

  Sage nods shakily, and Kai brings a cup with a bendy straw up to his mouth. Sage takes a long drink of the water inside, then lets his head fall back onto the pillow with another groan.

  Kai eyes him sympathetically. “How are you feeling, bud?” he asks softly, his voice quiet.

  “Hurts,” Sage replies. He isn’t in too much pain, but his entire body feels like one giant bruise.

  “Well, getting into a car accident and going a few rounds with a werewolf will do that to you,” Kai says as he sets the water down somewhere out of Sage’s periphery, and he’s trying to be teasing, Sage knows, but his voice sounds hollow and empty.

  The reminder snaps through Sage abruptly, and he immediately tries to move again as he sits up straighter, relieved and scared all at once.

  “Rhys,” he gasps out, clutching onto Kai’s hand. “Is he—where—” he stutters out quickly.

  “I’m right here,” Rhys’s voice washes over him, and he slowly makes his way over to Sage’s other side, and Sage’s entire body deflates when he sees Rhys’s face.

  Rhys doesn’t look as pale or as sickly as he had been the last time Sage had seen him. He’s wearing other clothes now, too—a long sleeve shirt and sweatpants. Sage is relieved to see that he doesn’t seem like he’s in pain or that he’s hurt, but his eyes are pinched and puffy. He sniffles softly when he takes another step forward towards Sage’s bed, but he doesn’t move any closer as he stares at Sage with morose eyes.

  “Rhys,” Sage repeats, and tears well in his eyes unconsciously. God, Rhys is alive.

  Rhys just looks at him, and the expression on his face makes Sage pause. He doesn’t understand the way Rhys is looking at him. His eyes are wary, hesitant, as if he doesn’t know what to do. He’s scared, Sage realizes as he stares into Rhys’s eyes. Terrified.

  Rhys hesitates before speaking, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes still fearful. “Hey,” he says, and the sound of his voice is so soft and small. Hesitant, like he doesn’t want to startle Sage if he talks too loudly.

  “Are you—” Sage tries, clearing his throat when his voice comes out as a croak again. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, baby,” Rhys says, his entire face contorting into a pained expression despite his reassurance. “I’m okay, sweetheart.”

  More tears begin to fall from Sage’s eyes, and Rhys reaches out his hand towards Sage's face as if he’s going to try to wipe them away before he tenses harshly. He rips his hand back, clenching it back into a fist.

  “Sorry,” he says, paling. “You’re safe. I won’t touch you.”

  The promise only makes Sage frown. He stares back, rasping, “What?”

  “Sorry,” Rhys repeats, his voice sounding thick with emotion as he sniffles again. “I know you’re scared right now, but it’s over. No one is going to hurt you. I promise I won’t touch you. I won’t hurt you.”

  “Why do you keep saying that?” Sage asks him brokenly, his throat beginning to burn as more tears prickle his eyes. He blinks furiously, trying to take in a calming breath. “What’s wrong, Rhys? Why do you keep saying that?”

  Rhys’s stormy gray eyes meet his again, and he suddenly looks just as confused as Sage feels. “You’re not. . .” he trails off, swallowing before he continues. “You’re not scared of me?”

  The sound of his voice, so heavy with emotion and anguish, makes Sage want to sob in confusion.

  “Scared of you?” Sage repeats, giving his own sniffle. “No! Why would I be scared of you?”

  Rhys staggers forward abruptly, his entire body crashing into Sage’s quickly, as if whatever force he had holding himself back has completely vanished at Sage’s words, and Sage immediately brings his good arm up to wrap it around Rhys’s neck. It’s as if everything has suddenly culminated to this point, where the warmth of Rhys’s overheated skin meets his, and he’s the sun and the moon all at once, burning straight through Sage’s heart like a beacon only Sage can feel. He’s at once the night and the rising dawn and the shining stars and the anchoring earth, and every inch of Sage’s body calms when he feels Rhys’s steady pulse underneath his fingertips.

  Sage buries his face into Rhys’s throat and cries.

  “Sage,” Rhys says brokenly, his voice thick with tears. “Sage,” he repeats. “I’m so sorry.” His arms tighten around Sage, so soft and gentle.

  Sage clings to Rhys until he can feel air filling up his lungs again. He can’t move his right arm, but he moves his good hand up to wrap his fingers in Rhys’s hair and breathes in deeply through his nose. Rhys smells like antiseptic, and Sage thinks he can hear a bandage crinkle when Rhys shifts to kiss the side of his head.

  “Are you—” Sage stutters, sniffling. “He shot you,” he suddenly remembers, pulling back so he can glance down at Rhys’s stomach. “He shot you,” he repeats, his voice breaking. “Oh, my God—”

  “I’m okay,” Rhys says quickly, his hands lightly cupping Sage’s face now. His thumbs stroke over Sage’s cheeks, wiping his tears away. “I’m healing. I am absolutely fine, baby, I promise.”

  Sage feels a lump begin to form in his throat as he leans his forehead against Rhys’s, completely overwhelmed as he lets Rhys’s words sink in and settle into his head. Rhys is okay. He’s alright. He’s safe.

  Sage tilts his head up, trying not to wince when a tube pulls uncomfortably at his good hand, and Rhys quickly rushes down to meet him. When their lips meet, Sage feels his entire body relax. That telltale rush of relief washes over him, and at the very back of Sage’s mind, he thinks that Rhys might be taking his pain away through where he’s got his hands on either side of Sage’s face, but Sage is still having trouble focusing. His head doesn’t feel too good, and he can’t think about anything past the confusion still jumbling his thoughts.

  He pulls back but tightens his hand in Rhys’s hair. He doesn’t want Rhys to get too far away from him yet.

  “Why did you think I would be scared of you?” he asks, insistent.

  “I’m sorry,” Rhys breathes out, apologizing yet again as he shakes his head. “I—” he hesitates, his voice quiet. Sage feels him tense. “I ripped Steele apart right in front of you. He was—” he cuts himself off again, inhaling sharply. “He was going to kill you, and then he. . .” Rhys shakes his head, then looks into Sage’s eyes sorrowfully. “I lost it. I was on him as soon as you broke the seal of that circle. But I never wanted you to see that, Sage. I never wanted you to see me like that. I mauled him. And the way you looked at me when I ran over to you. . .”

  Rhys shuts his eyes tightly, a troubled look settling over the features of his face dauntingly, as if he’s picturing the look on Sage’s face. He shakes his head again.

  “You looked terrified. And I cou
ld smell how scared you were. When you woke up just now, I just couldn’t see that look on your face again, and I didn’t want to scare you, so I stayed out of the way. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it if you’d looked at me like you were scared I was going to hurt you,” he finishes, and Sage hates the way he looks so sad, like just the thought of Sage being afraid of him completely tears him apart.

  Sage looks into Rhys’s eyes and shakes his head vehemently, pulling Rhys’s face back to his so he can lean their foreheads together. He thinks for a moment, about the hesitant way Rhys had approached him, about how fearful he’d looked. You’re safe, Rhys had said, and Sage had thought he’d been talking about Steele. Rhys had been talking about himself.

  “Rhys,” he breathes miserably, shaking his head again. “I’m not scared of you. I was never scared of you. I was scared for you. You were bleeding out, and God, you looked so pale. And I couldn’t do anything to help you.”

  “You saved me, baby,” Rhys says quietly, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Sage’s in a chaste kiss. “You got me out. You saved us both.”

  Sage swallows around the lump in his throat, nodding. He gives a soft chuckle, running his thumb over Rhys’s cheekbone, even as his voice begins to break. “You can’t scare me off, Ree. I know exactly who you are. And I will never be scared of you.”

  Rhys falters against him as he buries his face into Sage’s hair and inhales sharply, completely enveloping Sage in the warmth of his chest. A few more tears slip from Sage’s eyes, but Sage doesn’t care. He’s safe. Rhys is safe. They’re alive.

  He thinks that he maybe suddenly understands where Rhys is coming from. Sage couldn’t exactly tell him that he was terrified that Rhys was going to bleed out in front of his eyes, not when he felt so weak and couldn’t even breathe over the searing pain erupting over his body.

  God, the pain. He still remembers it so vividly. The white hot pinpricks that ran through his entire body as he writhed against the concrete. The sound of Steele’s pleas as Rhys ripped him apart. The darkness that overtook him as he desperately tried to tell Rhys that he loved him.

  Before he can speak, though, Rhys leans away from Sage quickly at the same time another nurse walks purposefully into his hospital room, and Rhys keeps his hand on the back of Sage’s neck—scenting him—as the nurse glances at them with a practiced eye and then looks at the monitors over Sage’s head.

  “Hello, Detective Kaelan. My name is Lincoln. I’m your RN. Are you feeling alright, sir?” the nurse asks, arching an eyebrow at him. “Your heart rate is a little too high for my liking.”

  Sage nods, trying not to blush, and the nurse draws his eyes away from the monitors to glance at Sage’s tubes and wires. “Sorry,” Sage says belatedly, wiping at his eyes. “I was just feeling a little anxious.”

  “Would you like for me to get you some more pain medication?” The nurse asks, his eyes briefly flickering towards Rhys. “It’s better for your body if you don’t get too stressed out right now. You need to rest so that your body can properly heal.” The nurse waits, but Sage just shakes his head. “Okay,” he sighs. “Hit the call button when you’re ready for some more medication. I’ll come check on you again in a little while.”

  Sage nods at him and watches as the nurse gives Rhys a stern look, throws another anxious glance towards the machinery over Sage’s head, and leaves without another word.

  Immediately, Rhys presses himself against Sage again, and Sage brings his hand up to pull Rhys’s face closer to his. He runs his thumb over Rhys’s cheekbone soothingly, giving him a soft smile, before he runs his fingers through Rhys’s long hair. Rhys gives him a small grin, the fingers of his other hand lightly moving to rest on Sage’s jaw.

  Sage tightens his fingers in Rhys’s hair, and a bandage on his wrist crinkles ominously. He removes his hand, glancing confusedly at his wrist as he turns it over to inspect it. The bandage pulls at his skin, and Sage winces slightly. He doesn’t remember hurting this arm.

  Suddenly, he feels his vision white out as he remembers Steele’s canines. How Steele had bitten into the skin of his wrist. And the excruciating pain almost immediately after.

  “Am I—” he starts to ask, and the heart monitor near his head beeps rapidly again. He tries to take a deep breath to calm himself down.

  “No,” Rhys says forcefully, his brooding face pulled into a scowl. “You’re not. You’d be healing already if you were.”

  Sage lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He should have realized he wasn’t in transition when he’d felt the ache in his body after he’d woken up. If he were beginning to shift into a werewolf, he wouldn’t be nearly as bruised as he is.

  The thought makes something unravel in his chest.

  “How?” he asks quietly, and for a second, Rhys’s eyes dart over Sage’s head to Kai, who’s still standing on Sage’s other side, before he looks back at Sage with an unreadable look.

  “I stopped it,” Rhys replies quietly, a slight grimace on his face. “I reversed the bite.”

  “What?” Sage asks quietly, his eyes widening in shock. “Why?”

  “Why?” Rhys repeats warily, frowning.

  “Why did you reverse it?” Sage clarifies, his head fuzzy. “If you hadn’t, I’d be just like you now.”

  Rhys’s eyes suddenly seem to turn flat black as he stares at Sage, his usual scowl darkening his features once more. “He forced the bite on you,” he says, glaring as he bites the words out. He clenches his jaw, infuriated. “He bit you against your will. It wasn’t his choice to make. I know you don’t want to be a werewolf, and I wasn’t going to let him turn you into one.”

  Sage stares at him, silent.

  “But more than that,” Rhys says, continuing as his voice wavers slightly. His eyes soften, and his scowl seems to dampen as he regards Sage timidly. “If I hadn’t stopped the shift, it would have. . .done something to us.”

  “To us?” Sage repeats, frowning. “To you and me? What do you mean?”

  “It’s just. . .the place he bit you,” Rhys says, his cheeks beginning to color in embarrassment. “It—means something to werewolves.”

  “Okay,” Sage says slowly. “What does it mean?”

  “Baby,” Rhys says softly, shaking his head. “I want to tell you, I really do, but. . .”

  “You’ve been through a lot, Sage,” Kai interrupts gently, placing his hand on Sage’s shoulder comfortingly. “What Rhys is trying to say is that he thinks you need to rest so that you don’t stress yourself out, man. You really don’t need to worry about anything but healing right now. What he needs to tell you is probably something neither of you want to discuss when you’re in pain and where anyone can walk in and overhear.”

  Sage looks up at him, furrowing his eyebrows. His face scrunches up in confusion. If Rhys is worried about stressing him out with whatever it is that he needs to tell Sage, maybe it has something to do with what he’d wanted to say at the masquerade ball, where he was nervous about how Sage would react.

  Sage’s head is still fuzzy and muddled, and he’d forgotten amidst the pain and fight with Steele that Rhys had wanted to tell him something important after the masquerade ball. If he’s this scared of Sage’s reaction, maybe it is something bad after all. And Kai seems to know exactly what Rhys isn’t telling him. Sage frowns again.

  “You need to get some rest, man,” Kai says before Sage can open his mouth. “You both do. Rhys is putting on a brave face for you, Sage, but he’s still really weak.”

  “Malakai,” Rhys snaps warningly, glaring.

  “What?” Sage asks, panic lancing through him. He’d looked Rhys over to make sure that he was okay, but he didn’t really look at him. Now that he is, his heart beats painfully in his chest. Rhys still looks deathly pale and slightly frail, as if he’s seconds away from keeling over. When Sage grips Rhys’s wrist, Rhys’s skin is still hot to the touch like it always is, but he’s also burning up, as if his skin is as hot as molten gold. Sage
had just assumed that the warmth from Rhys’s constant overheated skin was normal, but now that he’s really thinking about it, Rhys does seem way too hot. He’s also sweating lightly, and when he shifts his body to accommodate for Sage grabbing him so he that he doesn’t accidentally put too much of his weight on Sage’s injuries, he winces and inhales sharply through his nose, a miniscule tell that he tries to hide with a misplaced grimace. “Rhys, why—”

  “Way to stress him out, Kai,” Rhys growls lowly, scowling at Kai. Kai just gives him a pointed look. Between them, Sage feels his heart swell in panic.

  “Why are you weak?” Sage asks him, shifting around so that he can make room for Rhys to sit down onto his hospital bed. He gasps sharply as he moves, his entire body seizing up at the ache in his bones. “Here, sit down—”

  Rhys rushes to stop him, bringing both of his hands up to cup Sage’s face. “I’m fine, Sage. I’m okay. It took a lot out of me when I reversed your bite. And those wolfsbane bullets that Steele had used were in my system for a long time. My strength is just very diminished right now.”

  “The wolfsbane was poisoning you, Rhys,” Sage says quickly, shaking his head as he panics. “Please, Ree, I know how much you hate doctors, but you really need to get checked out.”

  Rhys shakes his head, soothingly rubbing his thumbs over Sage’s cheekbones. “The wolfsbane isn't in my system anymore, sweetheart. It was poisoning me, but Kai helped me get the bullets out. I’m okay now. I promise.”

  Sage moves his good hand to Rhys’s long sleeve, gently lifting it up so he can see Rhys’s injuries for himself. His entire body hurts as he moves, but he tries to ignore the pain as he looks at Rhys’s torso. A huge gauze bandage is on the right side of Rhys’s abdomen, and a few spots on it are dark red with his blood. There’s another bandage further down on his left side, as if a bullet barely missed him before it nicked over his skin. But he’s still bleeding, and more importantly, not healing.

  “You’re bleeding,” Sage says roughly, shaking his head. “Please, sit down, Rhys. Oh my, God. You’re not even healing—”