Page 10 of Rest In Knotty Pieces

I lay back, too tired to sit up.

It’s Sage sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over me. I’m in a massive room with black walls and a dim orange light that illuminates the harsh planes of his face. On the wall, there is a single black-and-white picture of a topless man standing with his back to the camera, staring out at a mountain. His long black hair is caught up by a slight breeze. There’s a bedside table beside me with a singleglass of water that is three-quarters full; I can see a faint lip print in the glare of the light.

All these things I notice straight away, but I note the things I can’t see, too. Time, electronics, there is no one else in the room, and I have no idea how much time has passed. When I lift my head, I take a quick, unhappy assessment that leaves me with the knowledge that there is one door and no windows.

There’s no way Sage will leave that door unlocked.

I’m going to have to wait until I can take them. I go through our meeting again. Pix, Sage, King, Rolly, and…Blaze.

Dangerous. Deadly. Fucked up. Psychotic and probably the most terrifying alpha I’ve ever met.

And Merle.

Just the thought of her makes my pulse jump. I swallow my nerves, looking instead into the slightly smiling face of my stepbrother. It galls that I’ve had to call him for help. I’m not even acknowledging the fact that he’s drugged me. I’ll deal with that when I have the ability to beat the shit out of him. Right now, I feel weak as a kitten.

Sage brushes his fingers over my forehead. I turn my head sharply, trying to dislodge his fingers, but he’s relentless, and my rebellion, weak though it is, only serves to entertain him.

“Something’s wrong, Aaron. I can always tell. You’re riding the edge of something,” his soft words reach deep, reminding me that there is one person in the world who always sees through my shit, even if I don’t want him to. For one desperate summer, he was my entire world. We were friends and then lovers, just once. And then it ended.

I huff and stare at the ceiling and the faint swirling patterns that have painted into the design, trying to ignore him. I clench my jaw and regret it when it sends a wave of nausea through me.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Mmm, you never do, but I think you need to, and you can blame the drugs,” Sage says and lies down on his side with one hand on my chest.

The pressure, the things I saw, that whole night comes back, and I stare, feeling my body go still and tense. That night was a mess, and it still haunts me. Ithought Sage and my public humiliation and subsequent end of relationship at our parents wedding was the worst night, but then a week later, I experienced a real bad night. One that changed the whole path of my life. Waking or sleeping, I remember Merle calling my name, screaming for help. The day I failed her.

The silence lengthens, and sourness taints my rose and sandalwood scent.

“Don’t let them find us, Sage,” I whisper. “You can’t trust anyone. Not the police, not civilians. No one. He will be hunting for her, and he’s looking for me.”

Sage sits up, staring at me, and for the first time, I hope my mother didn’t exaggerate when she told me what Sage was capable of. We might need him. I might need him.

“You have to keep her hidden. No matter what.”

He leans over, dragging his nose down my cheek, his thumb drawing a circle. The smell of him, the delicious feel of him, makes me soft.

“I’m not going to let anyone get to you or our omegas.”

Our.

I stare past him, refusing to lean into the caress, and refusing to rise to his deliberate baiting.

“You don’t say stuff like that to me,” I hiss. “We protect her. There is nothing between us, and that Daega is not mine.”

Sage bites his bottom lip and just stares at me. It’s enraging. It’s a look that says he clearly doesn’t believe me but that he’s humouring me because he thinks I’m adorable.

It. Is. Enraging.

I try to roll, but he puts a hand on my chest and pins me to the bed with barely any pressure.

“Hands off, Sage!”

He leans in close, and I hope he’s going to kiss me. No, I dread it.

Instead, he drags the blanket up my chest and pulls out another needle, casually pressing it into my skin and depressing the syringe.

“No, Sage, please stop.”