Page 156 of Sage Haven
“You didn’t think I was going to run?” I said it like a challenge, but my voice was softer than I wanted it to be.
His eyes darkened, something flickering behind them. “Were you?”
I shook my head. “No.”
And I meant it.
He set his glass down slowly, the sound of it on the counter sharp in the silence. “Then you have your answer.”
I swallowed hard.
I could have walked away. I could have left this house. Left him. I could have. But I wouldn’t. Not because I couldn’t. But because I didn’t want to.
I tested him anyway.
“I could walk away.”
His expression didn’t change.
But his voice—his voice was steel wrapped in silk. “No. You couldn’t.”
I arched a brow, “You sound sure of that.”
He leaned in, his eyes locking onto mine.
“Because if you could,” he said quietly, “you would’ve already.”
He was right. God, he was right. And it terrified me how much I didn’t care.
My gaze flickered down to the ink coiled around his arms.
The tattoos I’d been dying to ask about.
Symbols. Lines. Stories carved into flesh.
And one, in particular that I couldn’t stop thinking about.
The same symbol I’d seen in his library.
On the back of his neck and Castor’s. The familiar one I couldn’t place.
His voice broke through my thoughts, “Something you want to discuss, Sage?”
I blinked. “I was wondering about your tattoos. They are … unique.” I tried to keep my tone casual.
Failed.
He studied me for a long moment before he smiled.
Slow. Lethal.
“Thank you,” he said, amusement in his tone.
I laughed softly, “Which one’s your favorite?”
He glanced down at his arms, running his fingers absently along one of the designs. A gesture so intimate, it made me ache. “These are where I feel most vulnerable,” he said after a long pause.
I frowned.
