Lychos Cycle

Chapter 7: Sage

The dojo is already closed, as I knew it would be. I keep moving, circling around to the side and the fire escape climbing to the third floor. I climb gently but quickly, avoiding the squeaks in the old metal stairs, the familiar places where the treads might protest my ascent. My fingers already seek the key in my back pocket, the key Sage gave me long ago, after our first night together. The night air is fresh here, though filled with the smells of civilization, unlike my quite forest home. My nose quivers at the mix of aromas carried to me on the evening breeze. It takes me but a moment in a low crouch to undo the padlock on the narrow door at the top and slip silently inside.

It's dark, but my eyes adjust the moment I pass into the lightless room, the wolf in me seeing clearly after a blink or two. I hear and smell him before my eyes settle on the bed in the corner of the room, old memory and habit leading me forward into a ray of moonlight falling through the single window.

Sage sleeps, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest even, peaceful. Faint green light casts odd shadows across his cheek from the steady glare of his alarm clock. One of his arms lies over his head on the pillow, bare skin of his torso exposed, one foot dangling outside the covers. The smell of him fills the room, flooding my senses, making it hard to breathe, to focus. So delicious, a perfect match for mine.

I almost hate to wake him, to deliver this terrible news I've brought to shatter his hopes for us. The coward in me longs to creep out the door and be gone from this place, while my wolf begs me to instead slip under the covers beside him, lay my head on his chest, listen to the steady beat of his faithful heart.

But I can't. I've made my decision. Why didn't I turn him away long ago? Because I feel for him as he feels for me. I smell it on him even now, wonder if he dreams of me as the aftertaste of his emotions flavors his scent.

The words won't come, my body held frozen as I hover there, enjoying the moment, drawing him to me with my eyes even if I can't with my arms. My mouth is dry, heart beating oddly, off kilter as though pleading with me to reconsider. My wolf whines softly, wanting things to be different, logic and practicality forgotten as I stand and watch him sleep.

I have to go. That's it, then, the only choice. I'll just leave. Maybe send him a letter, apologizing for being so cowardly as to end things long distance. But the more seconds that tick by, the more I know it will be impossible for me to let him go if he wakes.

He does, just as I'm about to turn, to run away from the longing of my soul. I feel him stir, knowing I'm too late, now truly unable to leave. Sage's eyes open, his muscular chest rising and stopping as he holds his breath at the sight of me. A smile breaks across his face, hands rising, body leaning toward me, beckoning for me to join him.

I have to flee. I can't allow my need to win over my duty.

"Charlie." I hate that nickname, but his voice makes it a caress. My will crumbles and I can't stop myself. I'm tumbling onto the bed, on top of him, my mouth locking with savage desire on his, the heat of his bare skin under my hungry hands.

Hands that know exactly what I need. And Sage is more than happy to comply.

***

His fingertips trace the line of my side over my bare skin, across my arm and up to my shoulder. I can't open my eyes, refuse to look at him, to be caught in his endless, devouring gaze. If I can only just hold still and wait for him to sleep, I will slip away and never, ever return.

How deceitful I am to myself. My wolf growls her disapproval while my mind churns and my body aches for more of Sage.

"Charlotte." He knows something is wrong, his scent altering to worry, anxiety as his hand falls to my cheek. "Look at me."

He had to ask that of me! I finally open my eyes, letting my gaze settle on his muscular shoulder.

"Love," he leans in to kiss my lips. "What's wrong? Don't tell me nothing." The edge to his voice tells me I've used that line one time too many. I know I have, I'm guilty of lying to him more times than I can count.

I just can't take this any longer. If I stay here, in his bed, I'll never leave. My body acts as though on its own, twisting sideways, my feet hitting the cold wood floor, hands scrambling for my clothing. Sage reaches for me from behind, my wolf senses feeling him do it. I stand before he can touch me.

My belt rattles as I pull on my pants, my shirt whispering over my head. Sage stands, naked and perfect and so beautiful. I can't look. I just can't.

"Charlotte." This time he's angry, the smell of it pulsing in his blood, though he's not really mad at me, just at my silence. And fear glosses through it, like he already knows we're through and is as unwilling to admit it as I am. Has he felt me pulling away these last few visits? He's not stupid, but he's never mentioned it. "Talk to me for once. Please."

"This was a mistake." The soft hint of what remains of my Ukrainian accent wakes in my moment of distress. It happens so rarely it surprises me now. "I didn't come here to sleep with you."

Sage spreads his hands as I turn toward him, face grim, body tense. "How can you say we're a mistake?"

I shiver. How easy to fall into his arms again, beg him to forgive my words, to forget and be with him and never go home. But my grandfather's voice is in my head and, more importantly, Syd's, reminding me I'm responsible no matter how that makes me feel.

"I came to say goodbye." The words rush out from my lips, still haunted by my roots. Sage twitches, as though each one of them strikes him with pain. "I have to go home, Sage. We have to be through and I have to move on."

His short, dark hair spikes as he runs both hands over his scalp. "All right," he says. "Home it is. I'm coming with you."

The very last words I expected from him and the most shocking. I stare while my wolf hums her confusion. "You can't." I certainly never expected him to offer.

"I'm ready to move on." He jerks on his jeans, face calm and relaxed though it is simple to feel and sense the tension remaining in him while he tries to hide it from me. An ordinary woman would have missed it, thought him in control. But I know better. Knowing he tries so hard only makes leaving him more painful. "I've been here longer than anywhere I've ever lived." He's told me of his travels, his life as a vagabond, since leaving foster care when he was eighteen. He's seen the world, ended up in Wilding Springs on a whim when a friend offered him a job. I know he has only remained here for me.

"So?" He finds a t-shirt, pulls open his closet door, back-pack landing on the bed so hard the springs squeak. "Give me a hand and I'll be right behind you."

Could we...? Can I have him and my duty, too? But no, the possibility dies as it needs to, as I shake my head, backing away, toward the door. "It can't be." I whisper the truth, more to myself than him. I have to mate with a were. Maybe, a few generations from now, it might be acceptable for the heir to the werenation to choose a normal for a mate. But not now, not while we are still building our own private world into the likeness we choose.

The pack will never accept him. And he will be in constant threat if anyone finds out the truth.

He must feel my moment of final choice, because he manages to grab me just as I'm turning to run out the door. "Charlotte," my name is a plea. "Don't leave me."

I hesitate one last moment, meeting his gaze a final time, leaning in to press my lips to his. And then, I tear free and dash for the empty air, the quiet dark, doing my best not to sob my broken dreams into the uncaring night.

***