12. Chapter 12
The cabin door slammed behind them with enough force to rattle the windows. Sage’s hands worked the locks, adrenaline still flooding her system from the sprint back through exposed territory while waiting for bullets that never came.
Declan moved past her, checking windows with mechanical efficiency despite the blood seeping through his jacket sleeve where he’d caught himself on a branch during their run. His breathing came too steady, the kind of forced calm that meant he was barely holding himself together.
“Let me see your arm.” Sage crossed to him.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s bleeding.” She reached for his jacket. “Sit down.”
He caught her wrist. Not hard. Just enough to stop her. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” She didn’t look away. “Sit. Down.”
For a moment she thought he’d argue. Then something in him gave way and he sank onto the couch like his legs wouldn’t hold him anymore.
Sage grabbed the first aid kit from the bathroom, her own hands steadier now that she had something concrete to focus on. When she returned, Declan had stripped off his jacket and was staring at his bloodied sleeve with the blank look of someone who’d stopped processing what they were seeing.
She knelt beside him and pushed up the torn fabric. The cut wasn’t deep but it was long, following the curve of his forearm where bark ripped through skin. She cleaned it carefully, aware of how he held himself, the way his breathing hitched when antiseptic burned.
“They weren’t trying to kill us.” Her voice steadied.
“No.”
“They wanted us scared. Wanted to prove they could reach us anywhere.”
“Yes.”
Empty. The kind of nothing that meant everything underneath was screaming.
Sage finished bandaging his arm and sat back on her heels. “Talk to me.”
“Nothing to say.”
“Declan—”
“They could have killed you.” The words erupted with sudden violence. “Six positions. Clear shots. We were exposed on that ridge for thirty seconds before they started firing. They could have put a bullet through your head before I even registered the threat.”
“But they didn’t.”
“This time.” His hands clenched on his thighs. “Next time they might. Next time I might not be fast enough or strong enough or—” He stopped.
“You should leave. Tonight. Before they decide you’re worth more dead than alive.”
The careful blankness that didn’t quite hide the terror underneath. “Is that what you want?”
“What I want doesn’t matter?”
“Answer the question.”
His eyes found hers. “No. I don’t want you to leave. I want you here where I can watch for threats. Want you close enough that I know you’re safe. Want—” His voice cracked. “I want things I have no right to want.”
“Like what?”
He pulled away. “Don’t.”
“Like what, Declan?”
“Like you.” The confession came out broken. “Like waking up with you in my space and your voice the first thing I hear every morning. Like watching you move through my life like you belong there. Like—” He stopped. Drew a ragged breath. “Like keeping you.”
The words settled raw between them. Honest. Terrifying.
Her pulse slammed against her ribs. “Then why do you keep pushing me away?”
“Because wanting you means risking you.” His hands flexed. “And I can’t—” His voice dropped to almost nothing. “I can’t survive losing you.”
“You won’t lose me.”
“You don’t know that.” He finally looked at her again. “You don’t know what’s coming. Don’t know what I’ve—” He stopped.
“There are things you don’t know about me. Things that when you learn them, you’ll—”
“I’ll what?” She leaned closer. “Hate you? Fear you? Run?”
“Yes.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Sage—”
“You’re wrong.” She reached up and cupped his face, holding him there. “I’ve been trained to read wolves. To see the violence underneath the control. And you know what I see when I look at you?”
His throat worked. “What?”
“Someone who’s terrified of his own strength. Someone who holds himself back because he’s afraid of hurting people. Someone who built a pack based on choice because he understands what it means to have none.”
Her thumb brushed his cheekbone. “Someone who looks at me like I matter. Like I’m worth covering even when it costs him everything.”
“You are.” His voice roughened. “You’re worth everything.”
“Then stop covering me from yourself.”
His eyes searched hers. “What if I can’t give you what you need?”
“What if you already have?”
The question seemed to break something in him. His hand came up to cover hers against his face, his grip just short of desperate. “I don’t know how to want someone this much without—” He stopped. “Without destroying everything.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Watch me.” She shifted closer, bringing their faces within inches. “I’m choosing you, Declan. Choosing this. Whatever comes next, whatever truth you think will make me run. I’m choosing you first.”
Every muscle in him locked. “Sage—”
She kissed him.
Slow. Deliberate. Giving him time to pull away if he wanted to.
He didn’t.
For one heartbeat he stayed frozen. Then something in him stopped fighting.
His breath released against her mouth and he kissed her back with the careful precision of a man who had been afraid for a very long time of breaking something precious.
His hand slid into her hair. His other hand came up to cradle her face.
Sage pressed closer, sliding her arms up to his shoulders. The kiss deepened, still careful but edging toward something hungrier. When she felt the tremor that went through him, the way his control frayed at the edges, she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.
“I’m not going to break.”
“I know.” His thumb traced her lower lip. “But I might.”
“Then break.” She kissed him again. “I’ll catch you.”
The last thread of his restraint gave way.
He surged up, pulling her with him, his mouth finding hers with sudden fierce need that stole her breath.
Every touch carried weeks of denial finally breaking open.
She gasped against his mouth and he swallowed the sound, backing her toward the bedroom with focused intent that made heat pool low in her belly.
When her back hit the doorframe, he pressed close, letting her feel the careful strength in the body caging hers.
“Tell me to stop.” His voice scraped low. “Tell me this is too fast or too much or—”
“Don’t you dare stop.” She pulled him back to her. “Don’t you dare.”
He groaned and lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the bed. They fell together in a tangle of limbs and desperate need, Sage’s back hitting the mattress with his weight pressing her down in a way that felt like safety rather than threat.
His mouth moved from her lips along her cheek to the sensitive spot below her ear that made her arch against him. “I’ve wanted this,” he breathed against her skin. “Wanted you. Every night you’ve been here, every morning I’ve watched you wake up—”
“Show me.” She pulled at his shirt. “Show me how much.”
He pulled back just enough to strip the shirt over his head, revealing the lean muscle and old scars she’d only glimpsed before. Sage explored the planes of his torso, mapping the evidence of violence survived, the strength held in careful check.
When she traced the raised line of a scar over his ribs, he caught her wrist. “Sage—”
“Beautiful.” She looked up at him. “You’re beautiful.”
Something in his face opened. He lowered himself over her again, kissing her with a tenderness that made something tighten in her, his touch sliding under her shirt with careful reverence.
“Can I?” His fingers paused at the hem.
“Yes.”
He pulled the fabric up and over her head, his eyes tracking every inch of revealed skin with an intensity that made her shiver. When his mouth found the hollow of her collarbone, she gasped, her grip tightening in his hair.
“Tell me what you want.” His lips brushed her skin. “Tell me how to make this good for you.”
“You.” She breathed it. “Just you.”
His hand slid down her side to her hip, his touch firm and sure despite the tremor running through him. When his fingers found the button of her jeans, he paused, his eyes finding hers in silent question.
She answered by lifting her hips.
He stripped her jeans away with efficient care, tracing back up her legs with deliberate slowness that made her breath snag. When he settled over her, his weight warm against her through the thin barrier of their remaining clothes, the bond flared with an emotion she had no word for.
“Are you sure?” His eyes searched hers. “Once we do this, once I cross that line with you—”
“I’m sure.” She wrapped her legs around his hips. “I’m choosing you. All of you. Everything you are.”
He kissed her again, slow and deep, as he positioned himself over her.
The first press of him made her gasp, the stretch and newness of it careful and deliberate. He moved slowly, giving her time to adjust, his forehead pressed to hers.
“Breathe.” His voice was steady where the rest of him was not. “Just breathe.”
She did, her body opening to accept him, and when he was fully there they both went still, adjusting to that new reality.
“Okay?” His voice shook.
“Perfect.” She shifted against him. “Move.”
He did, pulling out slowly before sliding back in with controlled precision that made her see stars. The rhythm built gradually, each movement deliberate and deep, his free hand braced beside her head while the other kept their fingers locked together.
Emotion surged through her, his urgency and hers bleeding together until she couldn’t separate them. She felt everything he’d been holding back finally breaking open into something that felt like healing.
The rhythm deepened, each movement intentional, his attention entirely on her. The bond carried what his words hadn’t managed, not as sensation but as a current of his need and care and desperate relief that he was finally allowed to be this close.
“Look at me.” His voice commanded despite its roughness. “Want to see you.”
She opened eyes she hadn’t realized she’d closed. His face was fierce and open and absolutely present, all the walls finally set down.
“Close.” The word came out broken. “I’m close.”
“Then let go.” She pulled him closer. “I’ve got you.”
He buried his face in her neck as he came, shuddering against her, his mouth pressing hard against her skin without breaking it. The sensation pushed her over the edge after him, pleasure crashing through her in waves that left her gasping.
They stayed locked together while aftershocks rolled through them both, his weight pressing her down, his breath warm at her ear. Neither of them moved.
This quiet was different from any they’d shared before. Stripped of tension. Just two people catching their breath and learning what it felt like to have finally stopped fighting this.
When he finally lifted his head, his eyes held something raw and unguarded that she had no word for.
“I need you to know something.” He said it before he had decided to. She caught the brief panic in his eyes before he kept going. “I know the timing is wrong. I know I still owe you a truth I haven’t given you. But what I feel for you is real. All of it.”
She kissed him quiet.
“I know.” Her voice brushed his mouth.
“You know?”
“I’ve known since you let me investigate you. Since you chose my safety over your own comfort. Since you looked at me like I was worth covering instead of possessing.”
She touched his face. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m in this. Whatever comes next.”
His eyes closed. The relief that moved through him was physical.
He laughed, the sound broken and relieved, and rolled to pull her against his side. She went willingly, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder, her hand resting over his heart.
Wind pushed against the cabin walls.
Declan’s fingers traced patterns on her arm. “Everything’s going to change now.”
“I know.”
“Thornwood will escalate. Jace will have questions. And there are still things you don’t know about me. Things I need to tell you before—”
“Tonight.” She pressed her lips to his shoulder. “Let me have tonight. Tell me everything tomorrow. I promise I’ll hear it.”
His arms tightened around her, but the ease didn’t come. She felt it, the thing he wouldn’t say pressing against his chest like something with weight. He’d just let her all the way in. And he still hadn’t told her.
The weight of it sat in his chest. Saying the rest aloud would cost more than his own pride. And Thornwood would be waiting.
“Okay.” The word cost him something she could feel. “Tomorrow.”
The tension drained out of him slowly, his weight settling, his breathing deepening into sleep. She stayed awake a little longer, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the bond settle warm.
She’d chosen him. Chosen this. Whatever truth waited in the morning, whatever connection he had to Mason’s death, whatever came next with Thornwood. She’d face it beside him instead of against him.
The thought should have terrified her.
Instead, it felt like coming home.