the headlights dark, though I want to press the gas to the floor. The shift creaks a bit, but the car responds well and we’re soon trundling down the road. I glance back, see the house behind is still cloaked in black and thank the Universe for our good fortune. Sage hugs his bag in the passenger’s seat, scowling, looking straight ahead. I punch him lightly on the shoulder, only then remembering his wound and wincing as he flinches from the blow.
“Don’t shut me out,” I say. “Or judge me, Sage. Nothing matters to me, nothing but keeping you alive. And I will murder, steal and fight to the death to make sure you are okay. Is that understood?”
He doesn’t respond at first, still rigid. I snap my teeth together at him, my wolf’s irritation showing while I finally turn on the headlights and push down on the gas pedal.
“Fine,” I say. “But I’ll drag you, kicking and screaming, if I have to. Mark my words.”
Sage exhales heavily and nods. “Thank you,” he says, voice quiet. “But I can’t help it, Charlotte. I’m not this kind of person.”
And I am? Yes, I am. What does that make me to him? And mean for us?
He reaches out, takes my hand. “Don’t think I’m not grateful,” he says. “And I have no idea what kind of horrible life you’ve led that this is normal for you. Or possible.”
I wish I could shake off the pity in his voice. I don’t need or want it. “Be happy I’m who I am,” I say. “Or you’d be dead already.”
“I’m very grateful,” he says, sitting back head turned to the passenger window. “But I wish it was different.”
He’s quiet a long time and I hold my peace, fighting for calm. This could turn into a fight, and we don’t have time to argue. The last thing I need is to battle Sage every step when I’m just trying to save him.
Sage finally turns back to me, cheeks pink in the light of the dash. “So we’re in Hungary,” he says. His entire tone, being, scent, everything tells me he doesn’t want to fight, either. I relax a little and nod.
“We have papers and money,” I say. “We should be fine if we don't draw the attention of the Enforcers.” And the hunting werewolves. I know Caine must be still seeking us, too. “We’ll ditch this car in a few hours and find another train to take us to Switzerland.” I add another layer of muffling to the shields I’ve built, the reminder all I need to add to our magic protections. It feels odd to suppress my power. I spent so many years out of control, when I was still a slave of the Black Souls. Syd’s gift has been incredible, but this trip down memory lane makes me nervous.
“Charlie,” Sage says, voice soft and careful. “I barely know anything about you, and I’m only just now realizing it.”
Why does he have to bring this up? “Not much to tell,” I say, hoping my gruff tone will shut him down.
No such luck. Sage is relentless when he wants something, though, as usual, he’s gentle about it. “Your grandfather,” he says, “the king. He wasn’t always a king, was he?”
How does he know anything? I told him a bit when I explained his situation, but nothing of our past as a werenation.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say.
“It does to me.” Sage’s hands tighten on the straps of his bag, still perched in his lap as though he’s ready to run at any second, moving car or not. “A lot.”
Sage’s jaw tightens. I catch his stubborn reaction out of the corner of my eye and scowl right back. “When you’re safe,” I say, doing my best to keep my mind from exploring my past on its own. “We’ll talk and I’ll tell you what I can.”
He draws a breath and I know he’s going to argue. We’re going to fight after all. But no. He turns away again.
“Fine,” he says. “I’m holding you to that.”
We drive on into the quiet darkness while I dread that distant conversation and vow to find a way to hide everything I’ve been through from him if it’s the last thing I