Chapter 27 SAGE
SAGE
Maybe this was a mistake.
But deep down, beneath the chaos twisting inside my gut, it didn’t feel like one.
I needed this. I needed someone to want me. To touch me like I was something they couldn’t bear to lose.
Ever since that last night in Sanele, I’d felt filthy.
Stripped down and thrown out. Discarded like something used up and broken.
Every time I caught my reflection, it made me shudder.
I didn’t recognize her—the girl staring back at me with hollow eyes and a brittle smile.
She wasn’t wanted anymore. She wasn’t needed.
She was a burden. A story people pitied until they got tired of hearing it.
But then there was Reich.
And God help me against my better judgement, I craved him.
I wanted him with a hunger that burned through my veins, even though every piece of logic in me screamed no. Even though I knew it was reckless and dangerous.
I wanted him because he didn’t look at me like I was broken. He didn’t flinch away from the shadows clinging to me. It was almost as if he was already darker than they were.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze.
Reich was stiff, rigid as stone, standing like a man fighting a battle he already knew he was going to lose. Every muscle in his body was tense, his jaw locked so tight I could practically hear his teeth grinding together. But his eyes—God, his eyes—betrayed him.
They were dark. Hungry.
And when his gaze dropped over my body, lingering at the slope of my shoulders and the curve of my hips, I knew.
I wasn’t crazy.
He wanted me just as badly as I wanted him.
And that knowledge gave me courage I didn’t know I had.
I let my voice drop into something low, something I hoped sounded braver than I felt, “What do you need, Reich?”
He flinched like I’d caught him off guard.
“What are you doing, Sage?” His voice was a quiet threat, but it was ragged. Frayed at the edges like he was barely keeping himself together.
I pressed a hand to his chest, slow and deliberate, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath my palm. It steadied me. Anchored me. And somehow, it also undid me.
I dragged my fingers up. Over his throat. Along the sharp edge of his jaw. My skin buzzed with the heat of him, but I held his gaze the whole time. Testing him. Daring him.
“Just asking a question,” I murmured.
My fingertips brushed his mouth.
His breath hitched, lips parting just slightly. His control—flawless, untouchable Reich—fractured for a heartbeat. And it made something viciously triumphant swell inside me.
“That’s not how this works,” he muttered, trying to stay composed, raising a single brow like he was still in charge of this game he insisted on.
But I wasn’t playing by his rules anymore.
I took his hand in mine, brought it to my lips, and without breaking eye contact, I slipped two of his fingers into my mouth. Sucking gently and tasting his skin before releasing him.
His pupils blew wide.
And just as the warmth started to seep into his gaze, his other hand snapped out, gripping my wrist hard enough to make me gasp. His fingers tightened slowly, sending a sharp warning through my bones. I should’ve pulled away. But I didn’t.
Instead, a quiet moan escaped me.
Deliberately, almost lazily, Reich parted his lips and took my finger into his mouth. His tongue swept over it, hot, rough and sinfully slow.
And then—God, help me—he closed his eyes and moaned, low and dark.
When he pulled back, cool air rushed over my damp skin, and a shiver tore through me, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
I froze, feeling breathless as I spoke his name, “Reich…”
He clenched his jaw, “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I swallowed.
His voice was rough, ragged. “Don’t make me need you.”
And I felt it then. All of it. The war tearing through him. The way he was fighting himself, clawing back control he didn’t have anymore. The storm he was keeping contained on my behalf.
But I didn’t want him to contain it any longer.
So, I tangled my fingers in his shirt and tugged him toward me. Just enough.
His body pressed into mine, his hardness searing through the thin barrier of his clothes. He caught my hips in his hands, and suddenly I was pinned between him and the wall, his breath hot on my mouth as his lips hovered just over mine.
Waiting.
I felt his pulse pounding in the tips of his fingers as they tangled in my hair, holding me still. His lips brushed mine when he spoke, so soft it was almost gentle.
“I need to taste you.”
His confession slipped out like a wound breaking open—bare, unfiltered.
And it hit somewhere deep, somewhere I’d kept hollow for too long.
Like something starved finally speaking.
Like hunger wrapped in ache.
So, I gave him what he was waiting for, “Then taste me, Reich.”
His eyes burned—dark, unrelenting.
And in the next breath, my wrists were pinned above my head, as his mouth dragging slow heat down the curve of my throat, breath hot and uneven.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he growled, voice rough against my skin.
My pulse faltered, breath catching. “Then don’t hold back.”
His smirk was dangerous as he spoke, “Careful what you ask for.”
And then his mouth slammed into mine—raw, savage.
This kiss wasn't gentle or tentative; it was a claiming.
His grip tightened on my wrists, pinning them roughly above me as his tongue thrusted into my mouth, conquering every corner.
He pressed closer, grinding his body into mine until I arched into him, starving for more.
My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him tighter, anchoring him against me. His hands gripped my hips possessively, lifting me higher until I felt all of him—rigid, scorching and urgent.
When he finally tore himself away, his breath rasped harshly, his eyes were dark and filled with what looked like an insatiable hunger.
“Greedy wildflower,” he whispered against my lips.
And I was.
His hands roamed, persistent, rough and reverent all at once, and I let him. Let him take. Let him have me, because in that moment, I wanted to be his.
I needed to be his.
“You want control?” he rasped.
I nodded… before he laughed, “Too bad.”
He hauled me to the bed and pinned me there with his body, straddling me, his smile almost sinister and full of dark promises I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear, but knew I was ready to feel.
He whispered, dragging his fingers beneath my ribs, “you’re mine.”
I shuddered at his words. His hands skated over my skin, exploring and memorizing. Every touch felt deliberate, like he was savoring me.
A chill ripped through my entire body. My nipples hardened beneath his palms as he teased them, rolling them between his fingers, watching every twitch and arch of my body.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured against my skin, his mouth leaving a trail of heat as he moved lower.
He trailed his mouth lower. The heat pooling between my thighs as his fingers traced the inside of my leg.
I trembled.
I tried to close my legs, but he held them open.
Pinning me down harder, as I fought.
I pressed my palms to his chest, not to push him away—just to ground myself. His heartbeat pounded beneath my fingers, a mirror of my own.
His fingers teased the inside of my thigh, making me gasp. I tried to clench them together, using my pathetic attempts to block him from access.
He knew I was testing him, fighting him on purpose.
His eyes glowed with dark amusement. “Too late now, wildflower… I’m getting my taste," he promised, a determination in his voice. "So why don’t you keep those pretty legs open… or I’ll tie you back up to that chair in my basement. Understood?"
A shiver ran through me at his persistence and his seeming need for me.
I nodded. Desperate. Willing.
Because I wanted this. Without any hesitation.
"Good girl," he whispered.
When his fingers slid between my thighs, I gasped, my hips jerking into his touch.
He held my legs apart with ruthless ease, his gaze never leaving mine as he circled my clit slowly, deliberately, driving me to the edge one excruciating stroke at a time.
And then—he pushed two of his fingers inside me. Slow. Deep.
I whimpered, back arching, hands clawing at the sheets.
“So perfect,” he growled, pulling his fingers back as his tongue trailed fire down my thigh before taking me completely into his mouth.
The moan that tore from me was desperate. I fisted the sheets, my body bucking against his mouth, his fingers, and the rawness of him. I was flying, drowning and burning all at the same time. Somehow, he made all of that possible.
But just as I reached the edge—he stopped and I came whimpering back down.
“Reich,” I cried out, trembling beneath him. “Please.”
He pulled himself to meet my face, as he hovered over me, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re clever,” he said softly. “But I’m not giving you what you want until you give me what I want.”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. “I… I don’t know what you mean.” I acted dumbfounded. Knowing full well, the answers he wanted. The shame he wanted bare before him.
He pulled back, his warmth gone. His absence a cruel shock to my system.
“Why won’t you answer me?” I whispered.
He said nothing. His eyes were hard. Closed off.
And it hurt. More than I thought it would.
But I knew that the only way out of this was giving him what he wanted. No matter how much I wanted to hide.
But I wasn’t going to give it to him on his terms.
“Fine.” I relented. “But I’ll only tell Castor what happened” I blurted out.
I continued, “He can convey it to you after.”
Reich stilled. Something flickered in his gaze, but his face stayed cold.
“Okay,” he said flatly.
And then he turned and walked out.
Just like that.
Leaving me aching. Empty.