Chapter Thirty-Seven
White Ravens
Scar
After Scar walked inside Gage’s quarters and the door closed behind them, Gage turned toward him, a smile still gracing his pretty mouth, and the last of his restraint broke.
He was on Gage immediately, clutching his waist, taking his mouth and kissing him as if he’d been starving for twenty straight days.
Gage met him with equal hunger as he hooked his fingers into his shirt and pulled him closer.
He licked and bit Gage’s cheeks, jaw, and throat with frantic affection.
Gage grazed his teeth over the sensitive skin on his neck, and he made a rough sound as he pulled him closer, sliding his hand under his damp shirt.
He wanted to sink into Gage so badly and live in his warmth, but his mind warned him not to be greedy or selfish, to slow down and do this right.
Gage was more than a fleeting moment or an urge to satisfy. Having sex with him wasn’t a line he wanted to cross the wrong way.
Scar forced himself to pull back before he lost it completely.
“We can do more of this later,” he rumbled, stroking Gage’s cheek with his thumb. “I’ve got a surprise I've been waiting to give you.”
Gage eased his hand toward Scar’s cock. “Is it this?”
Scar caught his wrist. “Fuck, you’re making this hard.”
Gage pressed his body closer, biting his bottom lip in a way that made Scar groan.
He couldn’t help leaning in and sucking on it, his control fraying more with each kiss.
Gage was a quick learner in every area, including this one. He listened to his body, no longer flinching away from what he wanted, and he was making it clear he wanted Scar’s dick. And that scared him.
He put his forehead to Gage’s and breathed.
“I liked training with you these past few weeks. You worked your ass off,” he said. “Everyone watches you in fascination, including me.”
Gage melted into him. “Thank you.”
“But I don’t just wanna get you in bed. I wanna get you out of this facility for a while and have some fun.”
Gage went still for a moment, and Scar wondered what the hell he’d said wrong.
“W-what? What is it?”
Gage lowered his head and his voice, not sounding as sure as he had a minute ago.
“Do I, um…arose you? I mean, do you think I won’t satisfy you…in bed?” Gage swallowed hard. “I know you’re pretty experienced…well, very experienced, and used to experienced partners. And I’m…I’m not really…”
Gage cheeks burned with color as he stumbled over his words appearing frustrated.
Scar’s chest tightened, hating that he’d made Gage doubt himself for even a second.
“No. I swear, what we’ve done so far has blown my mind more than anyone ever has,” he said. “Because you mean so much more to…”
Gage’s hands found his face, his jaw, before he slid his fingers into his hair with slow reverence.
His hair had been growing abnormally fast and too thick. He didn’t cut it because Gage loved the way it felt, because his hands in it made him feel as if a man as brutal as him could still experience a gentle touch.
They kissed one more time, slower, as he tried to pour into Gage the words he couldn’t speak aloud, hoping he understood.
He was falling hard and fast for Gage, and it wasn’t the kind of fall he would survive by pretending it didn’t exist.
“Let me take you out.”
He wanted to show Gage that he thought about him all the time, not just sexually, but also how to make him smile.
Gage nodded and slowly lowered his hands, still looking a little confused.
He left Gage and went to his place to get ready, but before he did, he initiated their exit protocol.
He pinged Corvo, logged the departure and arrival windows, the destination perimeter, and submitted the shadow coverage request.
He was getting more and more excited, hoping Gage would like his surprise.
And when they got back, he’d let his sexy partner put his hands anywhere he wanted, do whatever he was comfortable with, and whatever that was would be more than enough for him.
Scar stood inside the last security checkpoint, waiting for Gage.
He wondered if he was primping for him. He saw Elias and two other members of their wardrobe department going into his apartment.
Scar had never cared about clothes until he heard Gage enjoyed textures, so he’d asked Elias to upgrade his wardrobe.
Tonight, he wore black Burberry corduroy trousers and a Prada supima cotton T-shirt, hoping Gage wouldn’t be able to stop touching him.
Their four-person shadow team wore civilian gear, black ops mercenaries, meant to look harmless.
“We’ll be shadowing you for the duration, but don’t worry, we’re good at what we do. You and Saint will have your privacy.”
Scar offered his hand. “I appreciate it.”
“Enjoy your night,” he said, then disappeared with his team out of the side door.
Scar exhaled and rolled his shoulders once, wondering why he was so nervous.
A couple of minutes later, footsteps drew closer from his left, too heavy and clunky to be Gage’s walk, which was all stealth and control.
Roz came around the corner, and Scar didn’t bother to hide his annoyance
He was the same height as him, around six-three, stocky with tattoos—black-and-gray drawings telling stories of the streets he’d once controlled—covering both forearms that disappeared under his sleeves.
His features revealed his Hispanic heritage: prominent cheekbones, warm skin, deep-set brown eyes, the kind of face that was both handsome and dangerous, depending on who he wanted to be in the moment.
But for Scar, it was the wrong kind of handsome.
He preferred wholesome, gentle features, mysterious translucent eyes, and blond hair, a calm that could turn ruthless when pushed. A man who wouldn’t kill but would break a man if provoked.
Roz stopped two feet away, his thick brows turned down. “I got the alert my asset called in a liberty.”
Your asset. My everything.
Scar grinned. He couldn’t help it. Roz was easy to rile, and Scar had too much restless energy right now to pretend to be polite.
“Yep. He’s my date tonight.” Scar winked. “Don’t wait up.”
Roz stepped in close enough to make the intimidation real.
“If you hurt him,” he said quietly, “I’ll kill you.”
Scar’s grin faded. He leaned in too, not backing down, but not escalating, just meeting Roz halfway.
“Know this,” he said between clenched teeth. “You can save your threats, because I’d die before I let him get hurt by anyone, including me.”
Roz’s gaze seemed to search his for any hints of deception.
“You really think I couldn’t get to Gage when he was rolling with your crew?” he scoffed.
Roz narrowed his eyes.
“I always got my targets,” he said. “You know this.”
“Okay,” Roz murmured. “I’ll give you that.”
“You can’t think you were protecting him that good?” Scar frowned. “Back then, I knew where he lived, where his parents’ church was. I knew his whole fuckin’ weekly schedule.”
Roz clenched and unclenched his fists.
“If I had wanted him, I would’ve got him. You too, for that matter.”
Roz held his stare.
“But I didn’t.”
“Why?” Roz asked. “You sure as hell gave him enough shit.”
Scar swallowed. His truth was always complicated and too pride-swallowing to share.
“Because I never wanted to hurt him and hurting you would’ve hurt him too. I gave him shit because I couldn’t have him. Not for myself. And you did.”
The silence after his confession was too thick.
Roz didn’t move for a long moment, but something in his glare softened. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and grating.
“You know how I met Gage?” Roz asked.
Scar shook his head, but he damn sure always wondered.
“I met a girl named Shannon,” Roz said. “She used to come around my block with her church group to do outreach.”
Roz’s gaze shifted—unseeing—as if he was mentally going back to that time.
“She passed out boxed lunches, clothes vouchers, comforted families who were down on their luck. Praying for ’em and shit.”
Scar could already see where this was going.
“She was gorgeous,” Roz whispered. “And she was a Christian. Off limits to a thug like me.”
Scar could relate.
“Some guys on the block rolled up on her and her friends once and started giving her a hard time. I walked over.” Roz growled. “Didn’t say shit, just started beating them motherfuckers down.”
He said it with his chest—no apology or regret in his tone.
“I thought she’d get scared and haul ass, or call the police,” His throat worked once. “But she didn’t. She sat beside me on the curb, pulled out a little kit from her bag, and cleaned the blood and skin off my knuckles.”
Scar could only imagine what that’d felt like.
“Her touch was…” He paused as if searching for a word that wouldn’t make him sound weak. “She told her friends to go on. And she stayed right there with me, talking about…”
Roz laughed, but it held no humor.
“You won’t believe this shit, bro.” Roz glanced at him. “She talked about God. And that no matter what I’d done in the past, I wasn’t too fucked-up to be loved. Shorty had me believing it too.”
Scar nodded. “She made it sound good, huh?”
“Yeah. She did.” Roz’s mouth twitched. “But honestly, I could’ve listened to her talk about anything…tax law, or the history of drywall, whatever, and I would’ve paid full attention.”
Scar huffed a quiet laugh.
“Long story short, she kept coming back around, and I started asking her to meet me at other places. So the hood didn’t see her, and I could keep her to myself.”
Scar went still.
“She was too good for me, too good for the block, too good for my lifestyle.”
Roz swallowed, his eyes misting. “But she chose me. And I was ready to change my whole life for her, man. Hell, I even went to her church a few times. I sat all the way in the back and just stared at her up there in the choir stand, singing and sounding like a fuckin’ angel.”
Roz raised his head, revealing a flash of ego and pain.
“My shorty was pure. And I respected that. I never tried to fuck her…not once.” Roz turned and faced him. “It’s why I asked her to marry me.”
Scar held his breath. “Did she say yes?”
Roz nodded slowly.
“Her family said she was throwing her life away. But I was enrolling in school, and I was gonna’ get a good job…leave all the street bullshit behind.” Roz lowered his gaze again. “Anything for her. She was my one reason to do good.”
“I was taking her home one night from a date,” he said. “And a drunk driver hit us. Killed her.”
Scar’s stomach went cold.
“And took my one reason away.”
For a second, Scar could hear nothing but his own pulse.
“She died in the hospital four hours later,” he said. “I was there. But her family didn’t know me. They’d never seen me. So I was just…some guy in the corner looking devastated.”
Roz’s eyes went distant and glassy.
“I didn’t have a right to be up in their grief like that, but I couldn’t just leave either.”
Scar didn’t know what to say. Everything he thought of sounded stupid, so he just stayed quiet.
“Gage and his father were there, comforting the family.”
Scar’s attention hooked onto the mention of Gage.
“When she was pronounced dead, I bolted.” Roz closed his eyes. “I went to the roof, ready to end it. I didn’t wanna live without her.”
Scar imagined what he’d do if he suddenly lost his “one reason”.
“That’s where Gage found me. He told me Shannon was his best friend, and that she’d told him about me…about our plans.”
Roz’s eyes were bright now.
“It was Gage that got me off that ledge, bro. I don’t know how. I was so angry…dangerous.” Roz exhaled. “But he did. He prayed for me, just like she always did… He even sounded like her.”
Scar could almost hear Gage’s voice in the story, calm, comforting, and unshakable.
“After that, he checked on me every day.”
Scar’s brows lifted. “Even after you went back to—”
“Yeah. Even after I went back to the streets. Gage only ever saw me the way Shannon did—as a good man.”
Scar wondered if Gage felt that way when he looked at him. That he was also worth saving.
“Eventually,” Roz said, “we became friends, and he started confiding in me too. Stuff he’d never told anyone else.”
Scar got tight.
“That’s why I’m in your face, Scar. Because I know who Gage is, down to his core, and I know who you are.”
Scar didn’t flinch. “And who am I?”
“You’re the kind of man who takes,” Roz said. “So, I’m saying, if you really like Gage… show him the respect he deserves.”
“I do respect him,” he gritted.
“Then prove it,” Roz bit out. “If you really respect him, then you have to honor his beliefs, and not let him compromise them, no matter what.”
Roz walked away, and Scar watched his back until he got to the door. He turned around and said one last time with a slight smirk tilting his full lips.
“If you hurt him, I’ll kill you.”
Scar dipped his chin. “Heard.”
He stood there, letting Roz’s story, confession, and threats settle into the deep places where he kept his instincts.
A few moments later, lighter footsteps stole his attention, his heart kicking into a faster gear before he even saw him.
Gage came into view, looking good in a simple way that still hit hard as hell.
His hair was styled like the models wore it, and he was dressed in casual but still expensive designer clothes—an ivory cashmere sweater, dark denim, and cream suede loafers.
But what really did it for him were the gold-rimmed glasses and the matte-black cane resting easily in his right palm.
He pulled Gage toward him, locked his arms around his waist, and buried his nose in that powdery-clean, warm scent he’d grown addicted to.
Gage brushed his mouth over his, sliding his hands up and down Scar’s back before he whispered in his ear, “I like your shirt.”
“Thank you.” Scar kissed him. “Ready to go?”
“Sure, if I knew where we were going.” Gage smiled, all sexy and fun.
“You do know the meaning of the word surprise, right?” Scar held the door open and let Gage take his arm. “Don’t worry. You’ll like it.”
Scar was beyond excited to give this to Gage, to even be out with him. But Roz’s story kept pulling him back to the rules.
Don’t take.
A man as special as Gage had to be earned.