Chapter 17
SAGE
Why am I being tested? What have I done in my life to continuously be put in these situations with Saint? Situations that have become increasingly tense, and, dare I say, sexually frustrating. I love Saint, yes. He has been a part of my family for as long as I can remember. He’s been here for me and Saxon after the fire and has always been another brother figure for me. He’s someone who would protect me without any hesitation. We’ve always just… been. I don’t know how to explain it further. But recently, the bond between us has become blurred and has started to morph into something… dangerous. When I saw Saint in the shower, a burning sensation exploded in my core, climbing up my spine and leaving my head feeling dizzy. I have never, and I mean never, felt anything greater for Saint in a lust filled way, however, my body is suddenly betraying me.
As we sit here in silence, watching the remainder of this insanely disturbing movie, the tension between us becomes palpable. Whether he feels it too, I don’t know. I’m constantly stealing glimpses of him from the corner of my eye, and I can’t help but feel the heat of his gaze on me as well. Saint has this presence about him, an electrical charge that has my senses on high alert. He dominates a room just by being in it. I can’t help but feel this pull towards him recently, and I don’t know if I will be able to stop it. Especially if he keeps acting the way he’s been acting towards me. It’s clear he’s noticed a shift between us as well, if his constant hovering and need to invade my personal space is anything to go by. I can’t say that I hate it. He’s intoxicating—his scent, his stature, his animalistic eye color. I become hypnotized when he looks at me like I’m his prey.
Suddenly, a loud crash has me jumping out of my skin and whipping my head towards the window where it came from. It all happens so fast. One minute, I’m daydreaming about Saint, and the next, he’s wrapped his arms around my waist and tosses me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Saint, what are you doing? Put me down!” I say as I try to crane my neck to get a better look at the window where the noise came from.
“Get to the secret room in the office. Shut the painting door behind you and stay quiet,” he whispers to me as he places me back on my feet.
“But wha?—”
“Now, Sage. Don’t argue, just listen.” Giving me one last stern look, he retrieves his pistol from the back of his waistband and pulls the receiver back, racking a bullet in the chamber. Another sound has my attention shooting to the front door. Saint places his finger over his lips to tell me to be quiet and then points to the office door. I waste no more time; I turn and hurry down the hallway. Heading for the large painting called The Execution of Lady Jane Gray , I grab the corner of the artwork and hit the concealed latch that allows me to swing the frame open, revealing a secret room. I look over my shoulder towards the hallway, wondering if I should do as he says or help him. What was that noise? I can’t just leave Saint alone to fend for himself. What if there’s more than one person? He’ll be outnumbered.
I close the painting and grab the small pistol I know is attached underneath Saxon’s desk. Saint is going to be livid, but I’d rather do something than cower behind one of the most haunting paintings I know. Lady Jane was only seventeen when she was executed, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting. The executioner, before performing his duties, asked for forgiveness from Lady Jane, which she gladly bestowed. Once blindfolded, she was then unable to find the chopping block displayed in the painting. She was searching for the block on which her head would be decapitated. It’s eerie to look at and heartbreaking that she was so strong and young.
I tiptoe to the hallway and peer around the doorframe—it’s empty. I continue down the hall until I reach the foyer and press my body against the wall to try to conceal myself. Still, I hear nothing.
“Saint?” I whisper but get no response. I stay in the shadows, not allowing my body to be exposed by the lights we have on while I creep to the kitchen. It’s eerily quiet; I can hear my heart beating. Just as I’m about to head to the living room, a faint groan comes from the sliding back door. I freeze. Another grunt, then it dawns on me: it sounds like people fighting—a struggle of some sort. I squint my eyes, trying to see out of the glass, but can only see the reflection of the kitchen. I head for the lights and flip them off. To my horror, I see Saint wrestling with not one, but two men at the back of the house.
Without thinking, I run for the door, sliding the glass open and pointing my gun at the chaos in front of me.
“Stop, or I’ll shoot!” My hands are trembling, because not only am I pointing the gun at the intruders, but Saint is in the mix-up too. I watch as Saint lands blow after blow to both men, as if he’s enjoying a leisurely workout sparing with his buddies. The moment the men see me standing, they notice my gun and run. Both men make a dash for the wood line, Saint chasing behind.
“Saint!” I call to him, not wanting him to go in there alone. He freezes at the sound of my voice. We watch as the two men disappear from view and seemingly vanish beyond the trees. I watch Saint’s back rise and fall as he begins to steady his breathing. With his back towards me still, he pulls out his phone and shoots off a text before pocketing it again. He then turns towards me with a look of pure rage and disbelief plastered across his face. It’s then I realize just how much trouble I’m really in. Fuck.