Sage isn’t in our room. I follow the scent of him down the hall and to the partially open door. A peek inside tells me what I already know. The bed is empty, the bathroom dark and quiet. The little page is long gone, as well. I pace around the room for a moment before returning to the hall and pursuing Sage, the deliciousness of him leading me to a stairwell at the end of the corridor.
He went up and I retrace his steps, emerging on the roof. It’s dark again, night-time Oxford stretched out before me, the lip of the edge artfully crafted like the parapet of a castle. Sage is easy to spot, leaning against the stone ledge, looking out over the campus. I cross to him, my shoes grinding stone together under foot. He turns as I join him, arm slipping around my waist, snuggling me tight against his hip. I lean my head on his shoulder, feeling my body fully relax for the first time since this all began.
We’re safe, with friends who love and trust us. And tomorrow I rescue my grandfather and restore him to his throne.
“I visited Oxford once before,” Sage says. “I thought I might like to go to school here.”
“You still could,” I say. “I’m sure Femke would welcome you into the magic classes.” Might be a good idea for both of us to get some real training, though I’m more comfortable with my power now than I’ve ever been.
Sage chuckles in my hair, lips grazing my forehead. “That,” he says, “would be amazing.”
I hug him tight, turning to curve my body against his, arms around his chest, lips pressing to his throat. “Sage,” I whisper, voice choking off as I try to speak. “I never got to tell you how much I regret rejecting you in California.”
His hands slide into my hair. “It’s okay.”
“No,” I say, magic embracing him as I look up into his eyes. “It’s not. We’ve come so far and I’ve learned so much about who I am. Who my people are. All because of you.” I laugh, genuinely amused. “Imagine it took you and the attack to shake the last of the chains from my people.” I kiss him, his nose cold on my cheek. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”
He laughs over my mouth. “You’re welcome,” he says.
I jab him gently in the ribs and he bends, still laughing, ticklish spot turning him into a giggling boy.
“No matter what happens,” I say, thinking of Femke and her promise to me, “I will never let you go.”
He stills, stares down at me. “Charlie,” he says. “You’re going to be queen someday.”
“And you,” I tell him in my firmest tone, wolf growling her agreement, “will be at my side.”
Sage shakes his head, sad smile curving his beautiful mouth, green eyes endlessly deep as the ocean. “I can’t ask that of you or your people.”
“Our people.” He’s one of us, now. Sage starts, eyes widening. “You’re a werewolf, Sage America.”
He bends and kisses me again, softly at first, then with bite and passion that leaves me breathless. The need to have him when I was in wolf shape rises again, and I wonder how I ever considered letting him go.
“I never want to hurt you.” He hugs me, cradling me against him. “I know you’ve been through a lot, though you won’t tell me what.”
“Do you really want to know?” It’s quiet up here, the wind soft on us despite the elevation, the night serene. It feels like perfect timing and sacrilege to the lovely night all at once.
Sage stills, nods against me. “I really do.”
I tell him, a little, about Andre and my childhood. Of his sons and their depraved father. About rape and pain and endless torture, of having my soul crushed only to rise again and refuse to break. I’m detached, clinical, feeling myself leave as the words leave me, the old protections of evasion and hiding still keeping me safe.
I barely remember what I say to him, but I don’t tell him everything. It’s enough that his body tenses and he struggles to contain his temper as his power flares against mine, bringing me back to the moment with a shuddering sigh.
“The next time I see Andre Dumont,” he whispers into my hair, “I’m going to kill him and make his kids watch.”
I hug Sage tighter, wondering at my reaction to his. I’ve always had to look out for myself and though I know Syd and Femke and my other friends are there for me, this is the first time I’ve felt as though another truly understands and has the need to punish the ones who hurt me. Not because it’s the right thing to do, or will save the Universe, but because I matter.
And I rather like it.
“I may not get the chance,” Sage says. “Won’t that Erica person act against Andre if it comes out he’s working with bad guys?”
I grunt my disagreement into his shirt. “Doubt it,” I say. “I can’t imagine Erica doing anything to rock the boat, or put herself in a position to look bad.” Probably part of the reason she’s so pissed off Sage and I had the run of her territory for so long.
“I always hated politics,” Sage says. “I guess I better get used to them, huh?”
“I guess,” I say. “Since you’re going to be part of the werenation royal family.”
He chuckles. “I love the sound of that.”
I look up at him, my whole world his smile, his eyes, allow him feel how I feel for him.
Sage groans softly and bends over me, lips pressing tightly, tongue exploring my mouth with a demanding heat I answer. I leap, wrapping my legs around his hips, feeling him turn, pressing me against the ledge. He is hard and wanting, my body responding to the pulse of his heartbeat between us. I pant as I try to pull him closer, always closer.
Sage stiffens as I slip my hand under his shirt, down the front of his jeans. I pull away, boiling inside, needing him so much, only to watch his face slacken, his eyes roll up into the back of his head. He collapses to the ground. I grasp at him, terror replacing my burning desire, hand brushing over a cold metal cylinder embedded in the back of his neck.
I look up, too late, as a second dart whistles out of the darkness and buries itself in my throat. The anesthesia acts quickly, a trickle of magic in it subtle, but activating the drug instantly. I know not even the Enforcers patrolling the campus will feel it.
My wolf pants as I fight to stay awake, pulling in my power even as I fumble and fall on my side. I can’t focus enough to counter the effects, can only lie there and watch as Kristophe and Jean Marc slink out of the dark on the other side of the roof. The elder holds a rifle in his hands, dark smile so familiar I manage a reflex twitch before the black comes to swallow me.
“Father is very disappointed in you,” Kristophe’s whisper in my ear is the last thing I hear, cut apart by the wail of the little girl I was as I am lost in the dark.
***
I wake, kicking and screaming, knowing something is wrong. It takes a long moment for me to remember what. A boot impacts the side of my head, sending me sprawling, stars bursting to life behind my eyes. I groan, roll over, tasting blood, reaching for my power as the floor beneath me leaps and I’m airborne a heartbeat.
I’m in a van, the back, hands tied behind me, feet, too. I make out the well-known scents of the Dumont brothers, the nasty stench of gasoline, sweat and dirt. The van hits another bump at speed and I’m tossed into the air before coming down hard. It’s hard not to groan, winning me another kick, this time in my stomach.
I have to fight them. My magic will be more than enough to free me. And when I’m loose, I will punish them both for thinking they can hurt me, control me.
The moment I try to touch my wolf, I feel it, and despair like I’ve never known devours my soul.
Sorcery. Blocking me. Owning me.
My wolf howls her grief in my head as the truth sinks in and tears pool in the corners of my eyes to spill, without care, down my cheek and into my hair.
Jean Marc leans over me, teeth flashing as he grins.
“Just like old times,” he says.
***