by Peyton Bogue
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“You weren’t in bed with me,” Sage replies, letting Rhys set him down onto the couch. “And I’ve been asleep for a while. I’m all good now.”
He enunciates his words carefully, hoping Rhys understands what he’s really trying to say. He actually does feel really good. Nothing is hurting, and he doesn’t feel the ache in his bones that he’s become accustomed to. He’s not tired, either, just a little groggy from just waking up. His mind is sharp and clear. He only gets lightheaded for a few seconds sometimes before he’s fine. He’s practically healed. He’s ready for Rhys to explain everything to him. There aren’t any excuses anymore for Rhys to continue to avoid telling Sage whatever it is that he needs to say. There haven’t been any excuses for a few days now, not when Rhys knows how much his secrets are killing Sage.
“You didn’t need to get out of bed, baby. I would’ve come back in if you’d called for me. How did you sleep?”
“Great,” Sage says, grabbing onto Rhys’s wrist and giving him a small tug. Rhys sits down next to him on the couch with a chuckle. “Did you sleep?” he asks patiently. It’s become a thing now, he supposes, making sure that Rhys sleeps for at least a few hours a day. He would prefer that Rhys actually slept through the night, but Sage will take what he can get.
Rhys nods at him, smiling. “Yes,” he answers indulgently. “I feel much more rested now.”
“Good,” Sage replies, grinning. He nods towards the journal on the opposite side of where Rhys is sitting, asking carefully, “What were you reading, Ree?”
He’s way past the point of being subtle, and Sage isn’t going to let Rhys change the subject this time.
Sure enough, Rhys immediately stiffens minutely, his smile dropping from his face. His forehead creases in displeasure, and he fixes Sage with a foreboding look, his brooding face resolute as he exhales a long-suffering sigh, saying quietly, “Sage. . .”
“Rhys,” Sage parrots, heaving his own sigh. “I need to know. I can’t—” he cuts himself off, exhaling slowly. “Steele said a lot of things to me that aren’t making sense, Rhys. He knew things and you and me that that I didn’t. Please don’t try to keep this from me.”
“Sage, you’re still healing. I don’t want to stress you out,” Rhys says, running a hand over his face. “You’ve been through a lot, baby. You need to process everything that has happened to you. I don’t want to add to your worry, Sage. It can wait.”
“Rhys, that’s bullshit,” Sage replies, and Rhys quickly snaps his eyes up, shocked. “I’m practically healed. There is no reason why you can’t tell me whatever it is that I need to know. Kai said that it’s important, Ree. Even he’s surprised that you haven’t told me by now.”
“I don’t care what Kai said,” Rhys says roughly, shaking his head. “This isn’t something we should be arguing about, Sage. You shouldn’t worry about this. You need to rest.”
“Please,” Sage says softly, clenching his eyes shut. He tries to control his breathing as he says, “Please don’t treat me like a victim. I can’t—” Can’t have you looking at me like I’m weak, like I’m going to fall apart if you say the wrong thing.
“I’m not,” Rhys says quickly, moving forward to rub his thumb over Sage’s face soothingly. “I’m sorry.”
Sage takes a deep breath, nodding. “I’m not going to break, Rhys,” he says quietly. “Anything you tell me will be better than what I’ve been thinking.”
And what he’s been thinking, above all, varies daily from Rhys trying to put distance between them because he’s trying to prepare himself to leave Sage, or different situations where Rhys tells Sage that he no longer loves him—which continue to bring Sage’s very few insecurities to the forefront of his mind—or even that Rhys is going to ask him to move in with Kai until he can figure out what’s wrong with his control over his shift. Sage is not going to leave, and part of him thinks that he might need to start gearing himself up to argue when Rhys tells him that he thinks they need some time apart.
Sage has been making himself sick trying to figure out what Rhys needs to tell him, and if Rhys tells him that he doesn’t think that they should be together anymore, Sage is going to lose it.
“Sage. . .” Rhys trails off, sighing as he shakes his head again.
“Do you think I can’t handle it or something?” Sage asks him, biting the inside of his cheek. “Do you really think it’ll be better for me to keep driving myself crazy trying to figure out whatever it is you’ve been keeping from me? I’m not going to run off, Rhys. I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but I don’t even know if I could make it down those stairs by myself right now. I literally can’t run away from you.”
He meant it as a joke, to maybe try to dispel some of the growing tension that is beginning to stifle between them, but Rhys’s muscles tense up and his stoic face pinches as a scowl begins to darken his features.
“That’s exactly my point, Sage,” he says, his voice serious and rough. “You’re barely even able to stand on your own. You’re not healed. I’ve done enough damage to you. I don’t need to add to your trauma.”
“Rhys,” Sage starts, frowning. “You didn’t do this to me. What Steele did to me is not your fault. None of this is your fault.”
Rhys laughs humorlessly. “He hurt you because he knew what it would do to me, Sage. He hurt you because of what you meant to me. He knew that the only way I wouldn’t kill him was if he put you between us. Everything that he did to you is my fault. It’s my fault you were involved in all of this in the first place. I'm so goddamn selfish. None of this would have happened if I’d never—”
He abruptly cuts himself off, and Sage feels the blood drain from his face as his entire body recoils from Rhys’s words, as if his words are a physical blow that has knocked all of the air out of Sage's lungs.
Sage pulls away from Rhys’s hands, shifting away from him on the couch. He feels cold all of a sudden, as if all of the warmth from Rhys’s body has been replaced by ice.
“If you’d never what, Rhys?” he asks, his blood pounding in his ears. “If you’d never met me? Is that what you were going to say?”
Rhys doesn’t say anything as a low growl rumbles through his chest. He doesn’t look over at Sage, and Sage feels his heart skip a beat.
Rhys’s silence is all the confirmation he needs. It’s as if all of this fear that Sage has been trying to shove down, as if all of these doubts and worries that Rhys thinks that Sage is weak, or that he doesn’t want to be with Sage anymore, are being thrown right back into Sage’s face.
“How can you say that?” Sage asks him, strained. His throat burns and his chest feels tight. His stomach coils into a knot.
“I put you in danger,” Rhys says quietly, and the sound of his voice makes Sage flinch. “Being with me will always put you in danger.”
“Because I’m just a human?” Sage bites out, anger bubbling up inside of him. “You knew that the minute we met, Rhys. And we decided to be together anyway. Don’t act like that’s a valid reason.”
“A valid reason for what?” Rhys asks quietly.
“For convincing yourself that you need to leave me,” Sage replies harshly, unable to stop the venom that seeps into his words. “If you want to leave me, just tell me. Is that what you wanted to talk about at the masquerade? That you don’t want to be with me anymore because I’m just a weak little human? That I’m not good enough to be with an Alpha werewolf like you?”
Rhys’s head snaps up quickly, and the look on his face, so shocked and stunned, makes Sage’s breath catch in his throat. “What?” he asks disbelievingly, confused. “I’m not leaving you! I would never leave you! I would never leave you at all, but especially not now. Not when you’re hurt and vulnerable. You know I don’t think that you’re weak. How could you think you’re not good enough for me? You’re everything to me, Sage. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
Sage inhales a shaky breath as a t
ear escapes his eyes. He doesn’t remember starting to cry.
“Then why did you say that?” he sniffles, wiping his face quickly. He must still be emotional from all of his medications.
Rhys’s face twists up in pain as he stares at Sage. “I didn’t mean—” he cuts himself off with a frustrated noise. “I’m doing this all wrong,” he says, moving closer to Sage and timidly reaches out to take his hand. Sage lets him, sniffling again, and entwines their fingers together. “I didn’t mean to upset you, baby,” Rhys continues, his voice wrecked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that I wished that I’d never met you. I don’t wish that at all. I will never wish that. I just meant that I wish I would have told you some things sooner. A lot of this could have been avoided if I would’ve figured things out a lot sooner than I did.”
Sage lets Rhys lift his other hand up to rub along his cheekbone. Rhys leans in and presses a soothing kiss to Sage's forehead, and Sage feels his body begin to relax as his anger dissipates.
“I’m not leaving you,” Rhys says quietly. “I could never leave you.”
Sage takes a deep breath, tightening his fingers in between Rhys’s as he nods. He exhales slowly, letting the warmth of Rhys’s hand ground him. “Okay,” he says tentatively. “I—I didn’t like thinking about that.”
“I’m sorry,” Rhys says, kissing his forehead apologetically as he soothingly rubs his thumb over the inside of Sage’s wrist, right over the healing scar of Steele’s bite mark. “I’m really sorry.”
“You can’t leave me,” Sage says, a surge of panic flooding through his veins. The sound of his heart beating erratically echoes in his ears.
“I’m not, sweetheart,” Rhys says, pained.
“Promise?”
“Yes,” Rhys replies, nodding vigorously. “I swear. I swear on my family.”
“Rhys—” Sage says quietly, shocked.
“It’s true,” Rhys tells him, leaning back to look into Sage’s eyes. Sage knows that he probably looks ridiculous as he clings to Rhys, but he doesn’t care. Rhys is here, and he's not leaving. “I promise. I meant what I said in the hospital, Sage. I’m never leaving you again. You can’t get rid of me.”
Sage nods, his panic slowly starting to dispel. He takes a deep breath as he slowly starts to relax. His heartbeat begins to return to a steady thrum.
“I love you,” Rhys tells him, bringing both of his feverish hands up to cup Sage’s face. “I’m so in love with you.”
“I love you, too,” Sage says, trying to stop his voice from shaking. “So much.”
Rhys tilts his head down and brings their lips together, and Sage’s entire body completely relaxes against Rhys’s chest. All of his anxiousness and apprehension completely drains from him as the electricity from Rhys’s kiss washes over him. He knows Rhys won’t leave him. He can feel it in his bones.
Rhys pulls away slowly after a few seconds, still so careful and cautious with Sage even when he knows that Sage can take it. He looks into Sage’s eyes anxiously, and Sage takes another steadying breath before he nods, and Rhys’s anxiety disappears from his face as he entwines their hands together again.
“Okay,” Sage says, grounding himself. He feels a little lightheaded from Rhys’s lips. “What things are you talking about? What have you figured out?”
“What exactly did Steele tell you?” Rhys asks, frowning.
Sage pauses for a moment, thinking. His time with Steele is still muddled and hazy, and his doctor had told him that it’s perfectly normal that he doesn’t remember much of the finer details. According to Lincoln the RN, his body was in a sort of self-preservation mode. He’d also been concussed when he was taken, due to the car accident, so it was likely that he might not remember anything at all. Sage remembers the pain, though. That’s the one constant.
He also appreciates that Rhys isn’t acting like he’s afraid that Sage is going to break down at any second. Despite how overprotective Rhys may be, he knows that Sage is strong. He’s just trying to protect Sage from all of this, even if that means protecting Sage from himself.
“He read my mind,” Sage says suddenly, his forehead creasing. “The first time I woke up after he’d taken me, he knew that I was having a nightmare about. . .some things that happened in Afghanistan.” He shakes his head, trying to focus. “He called it—like, projecting or something like that.”
Rhys winces slightly, nodding. “Yeah,” he agrees.
“What is that?” Sage asks, giving Rhys a confused frown.
“It’s something all werewolves can do, although it’s not as easy to control when you’re bitten,” Rhys says, rubbing his thumb over Sage’s palm. “It basically allows for us to. . .influence someone’s mind. If we can project enough of ourselves into someone’s head, we can make them do anything we want.”
Sage’s eyes widen. “Have you—” he clears his throat. “Have you ever done that to me?”
Rhys shakes his head resolutely. “No,” he says decisively, his voice heavy with his denial. “I have never and will never do that to you. Your mind is yours. Wolfsbane interferes with that, too. If it’s in your system, a werewolf won’t be able to project into you.” He pauses, before adding, “I’ve gotten flashes of things from you before, especially when I haven’t been able to control myself. But I’ve never intentionally read your mind, and I’ve never forced you to do anything.”
Sage nods bleakly. “Why didn't you tell me about that?” he asks anxiously. He feels like this is definitely something Rhys should have mentioned over the past three and a half years that they’ve known each other.
“Honestly,” Rhys says, pausing again. He runs a hand through his dark hair nervously before he sighs. “I haven’t done it in years. I haven’t even thought about doing it in years. I don’t like knowing that I could make someone do things against their will. I haven’t projected onto someone since my family was murdered,” he continues quietly, his voice tight with tension. “But Steele projected onto you, which means that someone had to have taught him how to do it. It took me a long time to even be able to see things in my mind, let alone hear a person’s thoughts. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about it. I honestly didn’t think that it was even worth talking about. It’s not something that I ever enjoyed doing.”
Sage is quiet for a moment as he thinks through Rhys’s words. Really, everything Rhys has just told him makes a lot of sense. Rhys has always been adamant that Sage’s decisions were his own to make. He’s always made sure that Sage has made decisions based upon his own free will. He’d been furious with Steele for trying to force a bite on Sage, and he’d been absolutely infuriated when Steele had actually bitten him without Sage's consent. It makes sense that he wouldn’t want to do anything that would take away someone’s ability to think and act for themselves. No wonder he’s always been so adamant that Sage’s choices were his own to make.
“It’s okay,” Sage says finally, giving Rhys a small smile. “I do wish you would have told me about it, but I understand why you didn’t.” He pauses, then frowns. “Who do you think taught Steele how to do that?”
Rhys sighs, shaking his head. “Probably whoever gave him those wolfsbane bullets. Those aren’t easy to come by. I still feel like there’s still some things that we’re missing when it comes to Steele.” His forehead creases. “He never mentioned anyone else to you, did he?”
“Not that I remember,” Sage says, furrowing his eyebrows. “Everything is still a little. . .” he trails off, shrugging his shoulders and making a small motion with his head.
“That’s okay,” Rhys says soothingly, bringing their entwined hands up to his mouth to press a reassuring kiss to the top of Sage’s knuckles. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s gone, now. We don’t have to worry about him ever again.”
“I know,” Sage says quietly, giving Rhys another small smile. He pauses, tilting his head questioningly at Rhys as he runs his pointer finger over the inside of Rhys’s wrist. “What else aren’t you t
elling me?” he asks softly, keeping his voice steady and unassuming. He’s not trying to accuse Rhys of anything.
“Do you remember anything else about what Steele said to you?” Rhys asks, avoiding Sage’s question. He glances at their hands, carefully schooling his face into a blank expression.
Sage takes a deep breath, trying to remember. “He. . .” he trails off, frowning.
Steele had taunted him. He’d antagonized Sage, trying to show how strong he was. He’d threatened Sage over and over again, and when that wasn’t working, he’d threatened Rhys. Killing you would wreck him, Steele’s voice echoes in his head. But there’d been something else, too. He’d tried taunting Sage in a way that he’d expected to hurt. It’d be easy to take this territory from an Alpha that can’t even protect his mate. Sage had thought that Steele was insulting him, trying to get him angry. He said that again, too, Sage realizes, furrowing his eyebrows. I’ve kidnapped his mate, Steele had told him. He’d been confused when Sage hadn’t reacted the way he'd wanted. He’d been shocked, surprised that Sage had no idea what he was talking about.
He’d tried to provoke Rhys with it, too. It came as a bit of surprise, sure, when I realized who he was, Steele had mocked. And then I realized what he was. What kind of Alpha can’t even protect his own mate? Mate.
Not boyfriend. Not partner. Mate.
“He called me your mate,” Sage says suddenly, confused. “He said it to me at the masquerade first. And then again when he took me. And he said it to you when he was trying to trap you, like he was. . . taunting you or something.” He pauses, thinking. “He was surprised that I didn’t know what he meant.”