Chapter 26
SAGE
The rest of the day, and well into the next day, Saint and I fuck on every surface of the house. His room, my room, the shower, the hot tub, the kitchen counter, he even had me bent over his bike before we made our way to the garage where the club members were waiting for us. Saxon had returned that morning and told us we need to be at the garage for a club meeting. Well, Saint had to be present at the meeting. I was told to man the office. Yay me.
As the boys, or men, rather, handle their meeting, I choose this time to finally respond to Dante, who had texted me now almost twenty-four hours ago. I pull up his text and reread his message.
Dante:
I’m so sorry for springing that painting on you. Your friend briefly explained your concerns. I can’t apologize enough. I hope I can make it up to you.
Me:
I’m sorry I’m just now responding. Please don’t apologize. You didn’t know. Your painting is beautiful, and I’m happy about how your event turned out.
It doesn’t take long for the three bubbles to pop up, indicating he is typing a response.
Dante:
How about a redo, and I make it up to you? Tomorrow night for dinner at the Pink Flamingo. Let’s say 7?
Fuck. What am I supposed to do? Do I want to go on a date with Dante? It’s not like Saint and I are exclusive, we never could be.
You’re so fucking perfect, Sage, and you’re all mine.
Clearly, Saint has already staked his claim, and his words replay on a loop in my brain. But how would he and I ever work? Our situation is far from normal. We have to sneak around, plus I am lying to Mira now, and it makes me feel insanely guilty. We wouldn’t be able to go on dates, be seen in public. Fuck, we can’t even hold hands without the fear of being caught. I want so badly to have the chance to go on a date with Saint and explore whatever this is between us without having to hide.
I set my phone on the desk, not responding right away, when another text pops up on my screen. Rubbing my hands down my face, I pick up my phone and see another text from Dante.
Dante:
I’m so sorry to do this so quickly, but could we move that date to two days from now?
That’s weird. I wonder why he’d change it so quickly? I decide to agree to the date just so I have the opportunity to let him down gently. He deserves that much, rather than a text saying I’m not interested.
Me:
Yes, that sounds great. Tuesday night it is. I hope everything is, ok?
I don’t want to flat out ask him, but I can’t help the curiosity that grows in my stomach. Call me nosy, but, well, yeah, I guess I am nosy. The three dots display on my screen again before his message pops up, and I am not prepared to read what he sends.
Dante:
I don’t want to lie to you, Sage. My friend has been missing since Sunday, and I’m afraid they just found his body on the outskirts of town. You met him at the club the night we met. His name was Damien Devonte. We are having his service Monday.
My legs start moving before I can even comprehend what Dante had just texted me. Damien, his friend from the club. Damien, the man that was once at the bottom of a quarry. Damien, the man Saxon and Saint admitted to killing. What the fuck is going on? I make it to the room in the back of the garage where the meeting is still proceeding, but I can’t wait. Pushing through the doors, all eyes instantly turn towards me.
“I need to talk to you and Saint immediately. It’s an emergency.” I train my eyes on Saxon, who now glares at me with so much anger, but also a hint of concern. His curiosity wins because he then dismisses everyone, leaving only him, Saint, and myself.
“This had better be good.” Saxon gestures his hand to a chair beside him, but I have so much energy swirling in my gut, I can’t sit down. Matter of fact, I can’t even be still. Pacing back and forth, I go through the text messages between Dante and me in quick succession. When I finally drop the last bombshell of a text message, I don’t miss the tick in Saxon’s jaw as he processes this information. While he battles the silent war in his head, his eyes narrow on me. His silvery irises look as if they’ve grown three shades darker. He doesn’t say anything, but the anger bubbling in his chest, or at least it looks like anger, is on the precipice of exploding.
I shift my attention from him to Saxon, who now has his head lowered while he brushes his hands over his head. Looking back at Saint, I startle. When I turn, I almost bump right into his chest. I hadn’t heard him get up.
“Mine.” One word is all he says. His tone is a low whisper, laced with so much promise. I am his, and he is reminding me. Fuck, I had been so worried I hadn’t thought about how Saint would react to Dante asking for another date. Saint’s hands are by his sides, curled into tight fists, as if he needs to release the pressure coursing through his blood.
“There was no mention of this guy, Dante, when we went up north. Who is he to Damien and how the fuck did they, whoever they are, find his body? It’s the quarry, for fuck’s sake.” Saxon slams his hands on the table, rising from his chair and turning to look at the club’s insignia hanging on the wall: a large gold crown sitting crooked on top of the large A that represents The Kings’ Aces. Saxon walks over to the wall, hands in his pockets as he looks up at the mural.
“Did you forget already, witch stick? Or do I need to remind you? You belong to me now. No one else.” Saint’s lips are dangerously close to my ear as he whispers so low I almost can’t hear him. My body is tingling all over; I’d been worried about the consequences of their actions, but now my body can’t help the desire to have Saint’s lips all over my most sensitive spots. I put my hand on his chest to put some distance between us before Saxon turns around, but the rumble that vibrates against my hand tells me all I need to know. He doesn’t move, not an inch, as I press into him. We are going to get caught. I can feel it.
As if he knows Saxon’s body language, Saint takes one step back seconds before Saxon turns around to peer at the pair of us.
“This is what we’re going to do. Sage, you’re going to go on this date like you were initially going to before he mentioned Damien. You stick to your plan, but instead of breaking it off with him, I need you to get close to him.” The audible growl that comes from Saint is so loud, but Saxon doesn’t flinch, so I assume he doesn’t hear it. “We need to find out his connection to Damien, and how he’s flown under our own fucking radar.”
“You think that’s wise? Sending your sister in when we don’t even know how he’s connected? It’s too dangerous.” Saint is worried, and I can’t blame him. Now that I know Dante was friends with Damien, it’s started to make me worried about his own intentions. However, concerned or not, this date could lead us to the person who killed my father.
“I’m fine. I can do this.” What the hell am I thinking? Dante seems like a genuinely nice guy; however, I hung out with him once at the club and for like five minutes at the exhibit before everything went to shit. He is still a stranger to me, and now meeting up with him makes me nervous, anxious even, at the thought of his connection to the fire.
“One of us will be there with you the whole time. You won’t be alone. One of us will be watching the whole time.”
“Me.” Saint speaks in a tone I’ve never heard before. Dark and thunderous, dominant and possessed. Heat rolls off his large frame, making my skin feel insanely hot all of a sudden, even with the air conditioner at its usual sixty-eight degrees.
“Perfect. I would myself, sis, but I got some shit I need to do that evening with Finn. Saint won’t let anything happen to you.” Coming up to stand in front of me, Saxon puts his hands on my shoulders and leans in to kiss my forehead. “You okay with this, sis?” A question to which I’m not entirely sure of the correct answer. But I give him a confident nod and a small smile.
“Like I said, Saint’s got you. He’ll protect you.” He gives Saint a fist bump and a manly pat on the back before leaving the two of us alone in the meeting room. The room suddenly begins to close in on me. His presence is smothering. I can feel him all over me as he turns to face me, his now dark silvery eyes boring into me with so much lust, so much anger, I can’t hold his gaze.
“So, you agreed to meet up with Dante?” I’m not sure if it is a question or a statement. “Have you forgotten already, or do you need to be reminded of whose cock you’ve been riding the past couple of days?” He takes a step closer to me. “Whose name you’ve been screaming.” Another step. “Or whose bed you’ve been sleeping in?” Our chests are practically touching at this point as my back hits the wall. Raising his hand, he brushes a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.
“Because I haven’t forgotten, baby. I can’t stop picturing your sweet pussy dripping for me every time I close my eyes.” My breath hitches at his confession, the room finally caging me in and making me feel so claustrophobic I want to run. “Since it seems like you’ve forgotten who I am already, the next time we’re alone—which will be very, very soon, by the way—I’m going to remind you just who your tight little pussy belongs to.” Any woman would be terrified at those words, so why do I suddenly feel an unmistakable wetness building between my thighs? He’s right. I do belong to him. My body’s response to his words makes it very clear.
“Saint.” I don’t know what to say. I’m not agreeing to date Dante. Hell, I want to break it to him gently that I don’t want to continue whatever this is, but Saxon has different plans. I don’t want anyone else; I’ve never craved a single soul as much as I crave Saint. No one else elicits the emotions, the feelings, like he does.
“That’s right, baby. You belong to Saint. I’ll see you at home. Be good.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. Heat and warmth instantly spread throughout my body from my head to my toes. When I open my eyes, he’s already at the door, his back disappearing as the door closes behind him.
He is right—I am his. And I love every bit of it.