Sage let her lids fall closed, then peeked through her lashes. Breath almost in a pant, she tried twice before choking out, “Ye—yes.”
Smirk hitching up a corner of his mouth, he stepped back. Something uncertain flickered across her face before she twisted back around, fixed her plate, and scurried out of the kitchen.
He watched her as she picked her way back to her spot on the outskirts.
Tightening his grip on his inner beast, Rhys fished out two cold beers from the cooler wedged in a corner. Juniper and night rain had him by the scruff and he gave himself over to the trail. Not like he had a choice. By design or sheer fucking coincidence, the only remaining spot of actual seating was on the couch and right next to Sage.
“Here,” he said, holding out a bottle.
Sage flicked a glance up to him, but didn’t take the offered drink. “What’s that for?”
He shrugged. “You looked thirsty.”
Cautiously, as if she feared he’d jump at her, she reached for the bottle. “Thank you.”
His fingers brushed against hers and sent a jolt down his spine. Heat spread through him all over again at the single touch, but he didn’t press. He took a seat on the couch next to her, knees knocking together and shoulders slumped to give her space.
He should have made space for himself elsewhere. Taken a seat on the floor, maybe thrown a punch to clear a place at the table. Anywhere but right there, next to a woman with her heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s.
No way in fuck his lion would have let him go anywhere but to her side.
“You’re a little spy.”
Sage’s eyes went wide and red flashed over her cheeks. “What?” she choked. She swept a not-so-subtle look around the room. “Don’t say that.”
There it was, that brief flash of fire. She couldn’t stay invisible when her eyes blazed bright, and he couldn’t stop himself from making her light up.
“No one is listening,” he said in a low voice. He followed her glance. The others were busy stuffing their faces or engaged in their own conversations. That was the small benefit of a bunch of fucking loudmouths; the noise gave them their own private bubble in the middle of all the chatter. “Besides, I liked it just as much as you did.”
Her scent twisted around him, gradually thickening into the sweetest temptation. His fingers itched to cross the space between them and drag along her skin. He’d tasted her once; he wanted to do it again.
She set her fork down entirely and stared at her shoes. Her hair shifted forward, almost hiding her face.
Fuck. He’d pushed too hard. Prodded her into silence. She was disappearing again right before his eyes.
He needed to go easy. There was a balance to maintain. Too much, too fast, and she’d burn up completely.
As if he knew what easy was anymore.
Sage tucked her hair behind her ears. Her cheeks were still flushed, but a challenge brightened the eyes she turned on him. “Are you going to tell?”
“Never,” he swore, voice thick with a growl. He canted his head and watched her for a beat, then added, “I never told them what you said when I walked you home all those months ago. Your secrets have always been safe with me.”
Sage leaned back. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head. She weighed his words against her memories and tested the truth in the air. He meant every damn syllable.
He’d had a mate.
Sage wasn’t Hannah, and he wasn’t the man he’d been with her. He couldn’t take the same steps and expect Sage to fall into his lap.
He had a mate.
Sage demanded his attention the same way as Hannah. She deserved someone in her corner. Not part-time or when danger reared its head. She needed someone there. Always.
He didn’t know if he was that person. He didn’t know if he’d make it to the next year without tipping past the point of no return. But right then, that moment, he knew he had to try. For her.
Trust was the first step.
“Who wants to go on a run?” Lilah asked over the noise.
“I’d love to,” Kyla answered immediately. “Colette? Dash?”
Colette snorted a laugh. “I’ll go, but this one won’t join us.” Her voice turned sickly sweet and she reached to scratch under her mate’s chin. “Hims doesn’t like mud on his pawsies.”
“Laugh it up,” Dash griped. “But guess who never tracks mud into the den? That’s right, this paragon of cleanliness.”
Lilah rolled her eyes. “Rhys? Sage?”
Rhys flicked a glance in their direction, then brought his focus back on Sage. “I’m with Dash on this. Nothing worse than muddy paws and a soggy mane.”
“See?” Dash said, pointing. “Even the crazy one knows what’s right. Have fun in your cold rain. I’ll be nice and cozy inside.”
“Babies,” Kyla laughed.
And still, Sage watched him.
They were the last ones out the door, leaving Hailey and Trent alone on the other side. The other pairs were in the process of disappearing into their dens or already dancing in the rain on four paws.
She reached for her umbrella, but he was faster. He hoisted it up between them, then slashed his eyes in the direction of her den.
Cautiously, Sage took the first step off the porch. Rhys moved right along with her, staying at her side for the second and third.
Then they were in the mud and stepping away from the others.
Rhys matched his stride to hers, and was surprised at how little he needed to change his steps to keep next to her. Some long forgotten sense unfurled inside him, whispering how that was how it was supposed to be.
His lion, too, stretched through him. There weren’t any
