Her fingers tighten in my hair. Her voice slips out in pieces, small sounds she cannot quiet, each one pushing through my chest until I feel them where it matters.
“Luka—” Her voice shivers around my name.
“I am here,” I tell her against her clit. “Let go.”
Her breath stutters. Her legs tense hard around my shoulders. I feel the exact moment she hits the edge, her body pulling tight as she searches for the release she has been holding back, even from herself. I stay with her, steady and sure, guiding her through the climb until she cannot hold it anymore.
She breaks with a cry she tries to swallow. Her thighs tremble. Her hands fall back to the quilt, grasping for something solid. Her whole body shivers around the pleasure that takes her under and pulls her through.
I hold her there with me, easing her through the fall and keeping her safe inside it. Only when her breath starts to slow, and her muscles begin to soften, do I pull my mouth away, lifting myself over her with care.
Her chest rises and falls in quick, uneven pulls. Her eyes are glassy and unfocused, her body limp with aftershocks. She looks undone and beautiful in a way that makes my ribs ache.
I reach for her gently. “Come here,printsessa.”
She does not resist. She never takes her eyes off me as I strip the rest of my clothes, leaving nothing between us but heat and breath. I slip into the bed beside her and draw her against me, her skin soft and warm against mine. She folds into my chest with a trust that hits harder than any desire.
Her bruises pick up the light, faint shadows along her ribs and hip, reminders of everything that has been taken from her, and everything she has survived. I adjust my arms so none of them bear pressure, keeping her wrapped in warmth without letting a single part of her hurt more.
This was never about taking anything from her. Only giving back a piece of what the world tried to tear out of her.
Her breath evens out slowly, a quiet rhythm against my throat. I feel her tension unravel, thread by fragile thread, the storm inside her settles somewhere outside the room for the first time in days.
I lower my lips to her temple, speaking into the soft strands of her hair, a vow meant only for her.
“I’m not letting you face the rest of this alone,” I whisper. “Not while I am breathing.”
Her fingers curl weakly against my chest, the smallest acknowledgment and last bit of strength she has tonight. Her body relaxes fully into mine. And then Sage drifts off to sleep in my arms.
4
SAGE
Two days pass in the quiet rhythm of the mountains. Morning light drifts through the cabin windows, soft at first, then bright enough to sting my eyes. I’ve memorized the sounds here. The clock ticking near the hearth, the faint groan of porch boards when Luka’s men pass, and Vega’s deep sighs from the fire. It should bring me peace, but it doesn’t.
I run a fingertip over the fading bruise along my ribs, the one that blooms yellow now instead of purple. My body mends faster than my mind. I tell myself that it’s a good thing, but every improvement feels like a countdown to whatever comes next. Each shade lighter in the bruising marks another day closer to decisions I’m not ready to make.
Luka left early to meet with Misha, promising he’d be back soon. The cabin always feels larger without him, the quiet stretching out around me in a way that makes the place feel less warm. I take my time moving through the space, my legs still holding the memory of the impact. A dull ache flares across my ribs whenever I inhale too deeply, reminding me how close things came to ending.
I settle on the edge of the bed, my fingers trailing over the quilt Luka pulled around me last night. The fabric is soft, and it smells faintly of cedar and smoke. Everything in this cabin smells like him, as if the walls have absorbed him over time. I close my eyes and try to imagine what my life would look like if Vega had never knocked into me, and Luka had never followed.
The thought dissolves before it fully forms. There’s no version of my life without him now, no path that doesn’t lead back to this mountain, this cabin, and this man who looks at me like I am worth protecting and possessing at the same time.
My cell phone buzzes on the nightstand, breaking the stillness. For a second, I think it’s him. My heart lifts, anticipation curling in my chest before I even reach for the device. When I lift it, the screen shows a name I haven’t seen in days.
Jenny.
My throat tightens as I swipe to answer. “Jenny?”
Her voice comes through bright and relieved. “Sage! Are you okay? I’ve been so worried about you.”
I grip the edge of the nightstand to keep my balance, my knuckles turning white against the dark wood. “I’m fine. I’m safe. What’s going on?”
“I went by your apartment this morning to check on you,” she explains, and I can hear the concern in her words. “I knocked a few times, but nobody answered. Everyone in town has been asking about you, wondering what happened to Bean & Bloom and where you went.”
Guilt twists in my stomach. Jenny has always been more than just an employee. She shows up early for every shift, remembershow every regular takes their coffee, and covers when I need to take Hope to appointments. She deserves better than radio silence and unanswered questions. “I’m so sorry. I should have called you sooner. There was a car accident on the mountain pass. Nothing too serious, but I needed some time away to heal.”
“Oh my god, Sage.” Her voice softens with sympathy. “Are you okay? Was Hope with you? Is she okay? Do you need anything?” The questions tumble out so fast she barely takes a breath.
