The bartender raised his brows, shifting his gaze between the two students. “ID?”
Sage tugged on Mason’s arm and whispered, “We should just go.”
He looked down at her with a bemused grin. Eyes flashing red he turned to face the bartender. As the bartender stared back at Mason, Sage felt her heart pace in cycles against her ribcage.
The bartender’s bottom lip rolled out and he sniffed before turning to Sage. “And yours?”
Sage shot a look at Mason, shaking her head. The last thing she wanted was to spread her wings and draw attention. She gave him a silent plea, on that said, This is trouble. We are definitely pushing the limits. But Mason simply nodded in return, urging her to do what he just did.
She swallowed and turned shyly back to the bartender. Clutching the bar to steady herself, she called her owl forward and opened her eyes wide. As soon as the owl aligned with her and a flash of purple lit her eyes, she pushed it back again before her wings or talons could grow.
It was all the bartender needed. “What’ll it be?”
“Bourbon,” Mason said too quickly.
Sage winced. The only time she’d had a drink was when Camila smuggled rum into her room on her birthday. And that wasn’t exactly her favorite taste. “Umm… margarita?”
Mason held in a laugh as he swung his head to her. “A margarita? Fancy pants.”
Sage shrugged. Her aunty used to drink them all the time, it was the first thing she could think of. In a hurry to change the subject, Sage turned her back to the bar and scanned the room. “Brown hair, huh?”
The woman with the tattoos was out, she had short black hair. The dancing girls all had a variant of blond. And the few people in the booths who were brunette, didn’t seem to have both long and wavy hair, let alone mood rings.
“Well, it could have been black or maybe auburn, hard to tell under these lights,” Mason said, passing her the margarita. He motioned to a few stools at the end of the bar and began walking toward them.
Sage didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Mason was so care-free about, well, everything. If only life could be that simple.
“Great, well that narrows it down,” Sage said to herself.
She rolled her eyes and took a quick sip of her drink. As the sweet fizzy tang bubbled down her throat, she danced a little inside. No wonder it was Aunt Blair’s go-to drink. After taking another sip, she walked to Mason and climbed onto a bar stool.
“So,” she said, placing her drink on the bar. “Where did it happen?”
Mason scooted his stool closer to hers and reached in front of her to point to the middle of the room where the wooden log reached to the ceiling. “See that beam there, I was leaning against the shelf, wondering what the heck I was doing here. I was trying to find someone who looked friendly enough to ask for a favor.”
“A favor?” Sage turned to face him.
“Yeah, to talk to my brother and tell him that marking him was a no go.”
Sage pinched the stem of her glass and twisted her fingers around it. “You really don’t think he’d make a good Guardian, do you?”
“I don’t know what I think,” Mason said, as a woman with shoulder-length brown hair walked by. He followed her with his eyes. “He has a temper—”
“No kidding,” Sage chided.
Mason snapped his attention back to Sage. “But he’s not all bad. He apologized for the whole thing, you know?”
“You mean, killing you. That whole thing?” Sage felt anger rise within her. Mason’s forgiveness was lost on her.
“Anyway,” Mason said. “That’s where the woman marked me. I saw her hand and the back of her head as she walked off.”
Sage sighed, taking another look around the room. “She could be anyone.”
“Yep,” Mason said, sliding his fingertip over the rim of his glass. He grabbed his drink and took a large sip. Wincing, he stood. “You want to dance, don’t you?”
“What? Why would I? No!”
A cheeky smirk appeared as Mason pointed to the ground. “You’ve been tapping your feet the whole time.”
As Sage glanced down, Mason grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the middle of the room. He let her go and began to sidestep. His hair fell over his face as he swung his head in time with the boppy beat.
Sage would have laughed. She wanted to laugh. But he looked so damn hot. The way he smiled, teeth bared. The constant glint in his eyes, as though he knew the secret of life.
No matter what the hell that may have been going on in this godforsaken school, there was a light in him—a reckless abandon that Sage never had. It was in Camila, too. And her aunty.
She stood still, watching Mason and wondering how on earth she could find this thing she was missing.
“What’s wrong?” Mason asked, clutched both her wrists. He began swinging her arms side-to-side. “Loosen up, Bright Eyes.”
She didn’t even flinch at the nickname her mother used to call her. Stepping closer to him, she asked. “Am I that uptight?”
His brows dropped, the swagger in his step coming to a standstill. He let his hand glide from her wrist to her hand and weaved his fingers through hers. With a voice softer than she ever thought he could use, he said, “No. Well…maybe just a little.”
His proximity hastened her breath. Her eyes drifted to his lips, full and smiling. If he leaned any closer, she would let him kiss her.
How reckless, she thought to herself.
Surely, Mason couldn’t call her uptight if she kissed him right there and then in the middle of a bar.
Chapter Eighteen
Screw it! Sage thought, deciding not to wait for him to make the first move.
She squeezed Mason’s hands and pulled him closer. His exhale breezed over her face—the sensation sending her heart into overdrive. She watched his gaze dip to her mouth and back up to her eyes. Pulse racing, she tilted her chin upward and stared at his lips, wondering if they’d taste like bourbon.
“What are you doing?” Mason grinned, stepping back. “Do you want to kiss me?”
Embarrassed, she ripped her hands from his. A nervous laugh filled the air between them. “Pfff,” she blurted. “Of course not.”
All spark left his expression and a deep wrinkle formed between his brow. In that very moment, it occurred to her that maybe she really did need to loosen up. Sage held her finger up, then ran to the table where they left their drinks. She picked up her margarita with one hand and Mason’s bourbon with the other. In quick succession, she sculled them both. As the bourbon burned her throat, she stuck her tongue out and glanced back at Mason. He stood where she left him with his hand over his mouth and a twinkle in his eyes.
Sage swiveled back to the bar and slapped her palm onto the mahogany. “I’ll have another, please.”
The bartender mixed her drink and placed it in front of her. She paid for it and held the stem between her fingers, taking a loud sip. A chuckle billowed beside her.
“What are you doing?” Mason asked.
Sage shimmied her shoulders. “Loosening up.”
“Yeah?” Mason gently tapped on her glass. “Take it easy, though.”
She slowly sipped her drink, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. As the buzz of alcohol soared through her blood stream, she let go. Of the fear. Of her past. Of everything. There was only her, him, and the music.
They danced, then. For lord knows how long. She let her arms swing around as her hips swayed in time with the music. The more they danced, the closer they became. Her palms found his chest, his hands rested on her hips. And soon, his touch made its way from her hips to her face, thumbs caressing her cheeks and his fingertips kneading the nape of her neck.
The sight of his hungry eyes warmed her chest and sent heat rushing through her veins. He re-grasped his hold on her neck and his fingers crossed over her leather necklace and its coarse latch. Stay out of trouble. His lips twitched as he leaned in and when his mouth was barely an inch away, Sage jerked bac
k.
“Is it hot?” she flustered. “Are you hot?”
Okay, so maybe she couldn’t loosen up completely.
“You want some water?” Mason asked.
Sage nodded.
Mason went to the bar, leaving her alone on the dance floor. She stepped side-to-side, cringing at how awkward she must have looked. She let her hands float above her as she moved, trying ever so hard to relax.
“Here you go,” Mason said, holding out a tall glass of water.
Sage came to a halt. As she took the glass, something behind Mason caught her eyes. Wavy red hair—deeper than Arielle’s, obviously dyed. The woman who wore it was around twenty years old, or so Sage guessed.
She was pretty but had a stern look on her face and seemed to be in deep conversation with someone. Sipping the water, Sage studied the woman. Intrigued, she peered around Mason to see who she was talking to.
There, sitting in the booth opposite this beautiful woman was another Guardian, someone Sage knew. Makoto. He didn’t look happy—arms flailing and mouth moving sharply with each word he spoke.
“Shit!” Sage shoved the glass back into Mason’s hands. “We gotta go!”
“Why?” Mason put the glass on the bar and turned to see what she had spotted.
Before he could get a glimpse, Sage grabbed his hand. She positioned his body between her and Makoto’s sight, and rushed them toward the door. If she was drunk before, she was sure as hell sober now.
As they broke ground level and clambered outside, Mason began laughing. “What’s gotten into you?”
“It isn’t funny,” Sage huffed, heading for Mason’s bike. “None of this is funny. Makoto was in there. Can you imagine what would have happened if he saw us?”
“He was?” Mason asked, following her. “Well maybe we should go back? We could ask him—”
“No. Just no,” Sage interrupted. She fumbled with the latch that attached the spare helmet to the bike. No matter how hard she pulled, it just wouldn’t click open.
Sage gave up on the helmet, throwing her arms in the air. She let the bubbling frustration simmer to the surface and as she let out a wild roar, she half shifted. Talons reached from her nails and she felt her back twinge, ready to grow wings.
Mason reached around her and while keeping his curious eyes on her, he set the helmet free with a simple squeeze. He held it out for her. “Be careful, your purple is glowing.”
Sage glared at him, wings unfurling behind her. Not too far away, thunder cracked across the sky. “Aren’t you ever serious?” she growled. “Don’t you see how important it is to me?”
“To have an untarnished record? Yeah, I get it. Everything has to be perfect for you.” He waved the helmet for her to take. Tiny droplets of rain fell onto the round surface.
Sage stared at the offering, taking in his words. But they didn’t sit well within her, they couldn’t be true. She was far from perfect. That position was given to Nadya. “I don’t want to be perfect.”
“Ha!” Mason guffawed, raising his brows in disbelief. “Could have fooled me.”
“Yeah?” Sage snapped. “Well, it’s better than being a reckless immature jerk who doesn’t care what his actions do to him or anyone else.”
Mason’s demeanor dropped along with his shoulders. “Ouch.”
His expression gave her guilt. She didn’t want to upset him, but she didn’t quite feel like herself, like something important had displaced within. As if she was changed… as if he had changed her.
The skies opened above them and proper rain pelted around them. Sage flinched as droplets streamed over her styled hair. She snatched the helmet and turned it around in her hands. Then, she jerked her arm around and threw it into the forest. It smacked through branches and crashed somewhere thirty odd yards away. Turning around, she panted, “How’s that for perfect?”
Mason didn’t reply. Instead, his head tilted to the side, eyes widening. Sage heard it, too. The door to the bar had opened.
Without a moment’s hesitation, they bolted past the bike, across the wet road and into the darkened forest. About five trees in, Sage slowed. Hidden behind a tree, she peered through dense branches, watching Makoto and his red-haired friend get into a car.
Her knees wobbled beneath her as she stared with her owl’s purple eyes, waiting for Makoto to drive off. Still half-shifted, too on edge to be anything else, she crouched low and let her knees connect to the woodland floor. As the car passed, she let her head fall to her knees.
When the sound of the engine had all but disappeared, Mason knelt beside her. “I found the helmet.”
Sage peeped through the strands of her hair. Mason held his helmet, crushed on one side. She muttered, “Sorry. That’s what happens when I lose control.”
“You can’t control everything, you know?”
“I just want to graduate,” she said, tears stinging her eyes. “But what I did to you… that… that’s unforgivable.”
Mason shook his head. He clutched the helmet and stood. A growl emanated in the back of his throat and Sage watched him as he re-gripped the helmet, bringing his arm back. He thrust his arm forward and, like Sage had done earlier, he let the helmet go. It soared through the air, breaking the clearing and skidding along the old brewery’s roof.
He spun to face Sage, eyes burning red. As he grimaced, fangs popped between his lips. “What if it wasn’t your fault?”
“Well.” Sage dug a talon into the tree trunk beside her and pulled herself up. “It wasn’t my fault, it was your brother’s.”
“Exactly,” Mason said. “If you didn’t turn me I would have died. Won’t Makoto understand that?”
Sage yanked her talon from the wood and stared at it. “Maybe”
Mason nodded and returned to human form. “Okay. It’s something, right?”
Sage shook her head. She wasn’t ready to be optimistic. She’d seen firsthand how quickly things could spiral out of control.
“What do you need? How can I help you?” Mason asked, earnestly.
“Turn back time? Go back to the night you first came to this stupid bar and don’t go in. Tell your brother to get over the fact he won’t be a Guardian.”
Mason’s face dropped. The sight of his shocked eyes made her heart sink, but now that she’d started, there was no turning back. “If you can’t do that and you still get marked, don’t try and get my attention to help you. And if you can’t do that, then at least just ask me for help first. Don’t force me to follow you. And if you can’t do that, then don’t let your brother hurt you. Kill him first.”
“Stop!” Mason moved closer, chest rising and crashing with every heavy breath. “You don’t know the truth.”
Somehow, she’d always known there was more. There was something he’d held back.
“Then tell me,” she pleaded.
Mason winced and the shadows above him cast an unnerving shadow around his glowing eyes. He reached for Sage and took her hand. They were silent as he led her deeper into the forest. After a few minutes, a small clearing appeared, and he let her hand go to sit on a fallen log.
Out from the canopy of branches, rain still fell. Sage didn’t care—she stepped into the clearing, letting the coolness seep over her, and waited for him to speak. But he just sat there on the soaked log, staring into the nothingness around them. Without warning, he stood and walked around the log to face Sage. He gazed at her for a moment, strands of hair sticking to his forehead, before spinning on his heels and pacing back to the other side of the log.
Sage leapt over the log and reached out to clutch his wrist. “Mason!” she commanded. “Tell me.”
Mason swallowed and took a long breath in. Tears welled in his eyes as he said, “I knew.”
“You knew what?” Sage frowned, searching his clouded eyes for answers.
“That he was going to kill me.” Mason’s voice shook. “It was the plan.”
Sage dropped his hand. “What?”
Mason raked his hands
through his damp hair, eyes lifting to the treetops. “He knew I'd been marked at the bar and I told him that I was going to try and get the society to help me remove it. But when you showed up at the boxing studio, he saw you sitting there on the roof. He told me it was best that I was turned by a True. But the only way to get around Makoto’s rules was to make it impossible for you to refuse. So he—”
“You planned it?” Sage shrieked. Her heart turned itself into knots. “You purposefully ruined my life?”
“No!” Mason raised his hands in surrender. “No, Sage, please. I didn’t agree to it. I didn’t want him to. Remember? I didn’t want this! That was the truth. And when I was arguing with him in the alley, that was real. I didn’t want to force you to do it.”
Sage so desperately wanted to believe him. She wanted him to be a good guy. As she watched a tear roll down his cheek and meet with a raindrop, she realized why this made her heart ache. She liked him. Once she allowed herself to feel it, she couldn’t take it back. Not now that she finally admitted it to herself. She liked him. She really liked him.
“You ruined my life,” she whispered, letting her own tears fall.
Mason’s eyebrows fell. He didn’t reply, only nodded. As he wiped his cheek with his palm, he stepped closer.
Sage felt like screaming, like punching, like fully shifting and flying away. As he stepped closer, she balled her fist. Everything within her told her that he was trouble.
The truth was, despite her raging insides, she didn’t think he’d ruined her life. If she hadn’t turned him, she wouldn’t know him. He was annoying and cocky and reckless and defied everything she believed in. But he also pushed her out of her comfort zone and that was thrilling. She’d found things in herself she never knew she wanted. With him she felt alive.
He moved in, so close their toes almost touched. He reached for her, hand hovering an inch from her shoulder. Barely whispering, he asked, “Is this okay?”
Sage had no words, but his hand cupped her shoulder anyway. Gently at first, and the longer she let him stay, the tighter his grasp became. It almost felt like he was loosening the constraints she’d built around her heart. Sage held her hands up to her chest, as if protecting herself. It was then that Mason pulled her to him, embracing her fully.
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