Page 227 of Sage Haven

Something fragile. Something indestructible.

He pulled back just far enough to see me, his hands trembling as they tightened around my waist.

“Reich…” My voice was low, searching his eyes.

He didn’t answer. Just watched me, silent, like I was something he hadn’t yet decided whether to keep—or cast out again. A trespasser standing on the wrong side of his walls.

I thought of the field, of the words he’d once given me, sharp as prophecy. I drew in a breath.

“You told me someday I’d beg to belong to you.” My gaze caught his, even as he tried to avoid it. “Well… this is me begging.”

A beat passed. Then his shoulders lifted in the smallest shrug.

“If you stayed,” he said at last, his voice iron-clad, stripped of mercy, “there would have to be rules. Precautions. Lines I can’t cross. Things I have to do to keep everyone safe.”

The steel in him wavered then, softened into something raw, breaking against the edges of his restraint.“But even then…” His voice faltered. “Even then, I don’t know if it would be enough.”

I could hear it in his tone—the unbearable strain of needing me and fearing for me in equal measure.

It made my chest ache. Made my heart shatter and rebuild itself at the same time.

His eyes searched mine, wild and desperate, waging a war I couldn’t see.

He looked like he wanted to fight me on this.

But instead—his gaze dropped to my mouth and in one breathless second—he kissed me.

His lips crushed mine, his hands threading through my hair, holding me in place as if letting go was impossible. As if I was the only thing anchoring him to this world.

And I kissed him back with everything I had.

With everything I was.

With every broken piece of myself that only he had ever been able to fit against and make whole.

We moved together like we’d done this in a thousand lives before and maybe we had. Maybe this was the kind of story that had always been written into the stars.

Since our paths had collided, our connection had always been undeniable, a perfect harmony in its chaos.

If we were musicians, we’d compose a haunting duet.

If we were writers, a timeless manuscript.

If we were painters, a soul-stirring masterpiece.

But in this world, I didn’t know what we were.

All I knew was that when we were together, we had the ability to create something raw and unforgettable.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together, our hearts beating in sync.

His hands cradled my face, his thumb tracing slow circles over my cheekbone, grounding me.

“I mean it, Sage,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I need you safe. I can’t do this if I know you’re in danger.”

I swallowed hard. “I know,” I whispered.

And I did.