Chapter 39 SAGE
SAGE
We wove through the quiet streets of town until we reached a restaurant unlike any other—a place swallowed whole by pitch-black darkness.
No flickering candlelight. No dim ambient glow. Just pure, unrelenting black.
It made sense. Reich never did anything without a reason. Everything he did had a purpose.
Dining in the dark was something I had never experienced before, though I’d heard whispers—rumors that when sight is stripped away, the other senses awaken.
That without the distraction of vision, flavors become sharper, textures more vivid—every bite an exploration rather than a mere act of consumption.
Maybe that’s why Reich had brought me here.
He had a way of expanding my world, pushing me beyond the edges of what I thought I knew, making me step outside my comfort and into the unknown.
And I wanted that.
I wanted him.
Every part of him. The way he heightened my senses, made me crave him in ways I’d never craved another.
The feel of his skin beneath my fingertips, the intoxicating taste of his mouth, the piercing intensity of his gaze and the sound of his breath as it tangled with mine.
And then there was his scent—God, his scent.
It filled my lungs like oxygen, becoming something essential, and something I never wanted to live without.
We slipped into a private room at the back of the restaurant, where a table awaited our party of four. Reich settled in beside me, his movements fluid, controlled. As the waitress approached, he leaned back, exuding an effortless dominance.
“The usual.”
No menu. No questions. Just a quiet command.
I smirked, my amusement only growing when he caught my eye with a knowing glint, a cocky grin that sent warmth flooding my cheeks.
"Are you two ready?" he asked, voice smooth, laced with something unspoken. His gaze flicked between Sam and me, Cas mirroring his anticipation across the bench.
Sam and I exchanged a look—a silent question passing between us.
Ready for what, exactly?
"Depends on what we're supposed to be ready for," Sam quipped, raising a brow.
I studied Reich and Castor. They were enjoying this. Their eyes gleamed with undeniable mischief, like two schoolboys hiding a secret.
Then, in perfect unison, they pulled out black satin blindfolds.
A ripple of anticipation coursed through me.
“Face each other,” Reich instructed.
Sam and I obeyed, exchanging another amused glance before I felt him move behind me. His presence wrapped around me like heat, pressing into every inch of my awareness.
Fingertips grazed my cheek. Trailed down my shoulder. A featherlight touch, deliberate, possessive.
Cas mirrored him with Sam, their movements synchronized and precise.
Then, the silk slid over my skin.
Reich lifted the blindfold, securing it at the back of my head with slow, practiced ease. The world went dark.
His breath ghosted over my ear, low and intimate. “This is going to require that you trust everything I give you.”
A shiver licked up my spine.
Then his thumb brushed my bottom lip—a fleeting touch before pressing into my mouth in a silent command.
My lips closed around him instinctively, my tongue teasing the pad of his thumb in a slow, deliberate sweep.
His breath hitched.
“Can you do that, wildflower?” he murmured, his voice a caress. “Can you trust me, even when you're surrounded by darkness?”
I smiled against his skin. "Haven't I already?"
And just like that, the moment between us shifted—tilted toward something deeper and inevitable.
His hands gripped my waist, dragging me closer, his breath warm against my skin.
“Mine,” Reich growled.
The word slammed into me, punched the air from my lungs.
"Say it," he demanded.
I should have fought back. I should have resisted.
But the truth was—I wanted to be his just as much as he wanted to claim me.
So, I did the only thing I could—I whispered, “Yours.”
His hand slid to the back of my neck, tightening just enough to make my breath catch.
And then he kissed me.
Deep. Consuming. Possessive.
His lips claimed me, owned me, drew me under until nothing else existed.
And I let myself fall.
Because even in the darkness—
He was the only thing I wanted to see.
***
As we returned from the restaurant, a weight hung thick between us—not silence, but tension.
Something charged. Something unspoken.
Reich’s eyes held something I couldn’t quite place—a flicker of concern shadowed by something deeper. An unspoken fear.
But if I was being honest, I carried my own unease.
It wasn’t just the way he was acting but it was the way his presence, usually so composed, felt subtly off. Like a mask slipping at the edges.
I wanted to ask. The words burned at the back of my throat, demanding to be spoken.
But I knew better.
With Reich, answers always came in their own time—never forced. Never before he was ready.
He disappeared into his office without a word.
By the time he returned, I had lost myself in the pages of The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy. The story fascinated me—a man with a hidden identity, using deception not for his own gain, but to save lives.
A self-made savior.
Moving unseen through the world.
My fingers traced the worn edges of the book, a question gnawing at me.
Would I ever be that kind of person?
Would I ever be capable of saving anyone?
So far, the only person I had ever been busy saving was myself.
I felt his presence suddenly.
Reich lingered at the doorway, his expression softer now. Lighter.
Whatever weight had been pressing on him earlier had shifted. If only slightly.
I offered a small smile, slipping a bookmark between the pages before turning my attention to him.
He stepped into the room, unbuttoning his shirt with a slow, deliberate ease.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said smoothly.
“I don’t mind.” My voice barely above a whisper.
His lips curled in that effortlessly intoxicating smirk.
My gaze flickered to the nightstand. Multiple phones lay there, sleek screens catching the dim light.
I hadn’t noticed them before.
“That’s one of my favorites,” Reich said, nodding toward the book in my hands.
Something in his voice told me he’d been watching me longer than I realized.
I shifted, studying him. “It’s inspiring,” I murmured. “How he risked himself to save others. Strangers.”
Reich lowered his head slightly, the bedside lamp casting sharp shadows across his features. Then, without another word, he climbed into bed beside me.
“Is that why you helped me?”
His gaze met mine—dark, unreadable.
For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer.
But then, his voice came. Low. Certain.
“I like helping people.”
I swallowed, attempting to look away, but his fingers caught my chin, gently yet firmly guiding my gaze back to his.
Then, in a voice edged with something deeper—something almost possessive—he murmured, “But I wanted to save you.”
His hand traced the curve of my body, slow, deliberate, as if committing every dip and rise to memory. There was something reverent in the way he touched me—like a man worshipping at the altar of his own undoing.
Heat coiled low in my stomach, pooling deep, my pulse a betraying rhythm against the hush of the room.
Reich hovered close, his breath feathering over my lips, thick with unspoken promise. I could almost taste the words he hadn’t yet said, could feel them between us, suspended in the charged air.
Instead, I exhaled against his mouth, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.
“I’m going to put this book away. I’ll be right back.”
His brows pulled together, curiosity flickering in his gaze as he watched me slip from his hold.
I turned away, feeling the weight of his stare like a touch I couldn’t shake.
The trip to the library was quick, but anticipation curled in my stomach like a living thing.
By the time I returned, the air had shifted.
It was thick now. Unforgiving.
A silent invitation.
I closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a beat longer than necessary. Reich sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze heavy-lidded, tracking me with the patience of a predator. Hunger burned in his dark eyes—devouring me, waiting.
I let the silence stretch. Let the heat simmer.
Then—deliberately, slowly—I let my fingers trail to the hem of my clothes, peeling them from my body piece by piece.
I watched him fight it.
Watched the clench of his jaw, the twitch in his fingers, the sharp inhale as he forced himself to meet my gaze—when every muscle in his body screamed to look lower.
The moment his resolve snapped—when his control fractured—something deep inside me clenched in satisfaction.
“Fuck, Sage,” he rasped, his voice rough, breath uneven. “You’re asking for trouble that only ends in chaos.”
I took a step forward, slow and intentional, my lips curling at the edges.
“Good. I want your kind of chaos.”
A challenge.
A promise.
And as his hand closed around my wrist, pulling me down onto his lap, I knew exactly what I was asking for.
And I didn’t care.
Because for the first time in years, maybe my entire life, I wasn’t afraid of the fire.
I wanted to burn.
With him.
For him.
Because of him.