Sage barely made it back to her apartment before collapsing in the front entryway, releasing Yasuo from his leash. He borked, running around and around her body as she gasped for air. A strange, buzzing hysteria filled her lungs, cloaking them. With a laugh, she slumped back into the door, tearing off her wind breaker to give her sweat slicked skin time to dry.
Knowing it was cold by now but not caring in the least, Sage yanked out her burger and popped open the lid… only for her stomach to drop. Tapped just inside it was a small, flashing chip. A tracker—that fucker. For the fifth time that night, her rage spiked uncontrollably as she yanked it off and crushed it between two fingers.
Effortlessly.
As soon as the light stopped blinking, such intense emotion flowed away as quickly as it filled her, seeping into the floor and taking all her energy with it. Sage sighed, looked longingly at the burger, and stood up to set it aside. Her hands were dirty, let alone the rest of her body covered in sweat, dust, and blood.
Before going to the bedroom, she flipped all four locks on her door for the first time since moving in, lips pressed together. If he'd been watching that tracker, or if it had data logs… What could Sage even do about it? It was a rich joke to think she had any chance against those guys, whoever—orwhatever—they were.
She'd always enjoyed fantasy stories, history of the ancients, and rare sightings of the unexplained. There was a whole section of her bookshelf dedicated to the study of philosophy and mythos. But that's all they were, right? While Sage didn't want to entertain the idea of any other wild theory, she saw and felt things tonight that science and logic do not explain.
Turning on the shower, she stripped off her soiled clothes and tossed them right into the trash. Naked and shivering, Sage forced herself to stand in front of the mirror to take in the damage. Light bruises were already blooming all across her body, especially on her cheek bone where Lock landed a hit.
She fingered it gently, hissing with a wince that made the slice on the opposite cheek from Hunter sting like hell. Her most pressing wound actively wept blood across her bicep, making Sage worry. How long would it bleed for, or did she need stitches?
"Shit," she cursed, shaking fingers trailing through her tangles and snagging.
Sage didn't know what to do, didn't know what she saw or felt or did, so she got in the shower. Scalding water solved all problems. It was slow going, too. Each movement of her body set every injury aflame, and damn was she tired. Sage barely scrubbed her hair, holding her bloody arm to her chest as it throbbed.
She might need stitches.
With a sigh, she shut off the water and stepped out, wrapping a dark towel around her arm and slinging on her robe to wring out her hair over the sink. Her two toned eyes were distant, dull from fatigue.
Sleep, maybe I need sleep.
The towel should hold the bleeding at bay for now. It was too dangerous to go out, anyhow. For all she knew, Hunter was prowling downstairs, snarling and snapping those too long canines while he held his insides in.
She shivered.
Don't think about it.
Stumbling to the pastel colored bed sheets in three steps, Sage collapsed, burrowing her face in the soft blankets piled all around her.
***
"Argh," Sage groaned, smacking her cotton tongue against the roof of her mouth.
Sunlight streamed in through the curtains, flowing through the massive ivy plant engulfing the window to hit her eyes just right. Groaning once more, she rolled over, forgetting about her arm.
"Shit!"
Pain roared from the roots of her hair down to her fingertips, cold as ice. She flexed both hands, sitting up with a frown when her left was slower, clumsy. And the robe was soaked through with still wet blood. Not good. Her lower lip wobbled, but Sage forced herself to get a grip. She wasn't dead yet. Mom once taught her how to sew, was doing it on flesh really so different?
Sage couldn't go to the hospital in fear someone would connect her back to the scene of the crime. She didn't know if that Hunter guy lived or not, but either way, she was pretty sure macing someone in the stomach would be seen as attempted murder.
Steeling herself for what's about to happen, Sage told her sound system to play pump up music. It started blasting, covering her panicked heartbeat. She grasped onto it like a lifeline, dancing slowly into the bathroom, moving aside a cute little Irish Ivy strand away from the cabinet to open it.
In there were her pills, toiletries, and all other necessities including an emergency sewing kit that'd never been used before. Didn't that mean it was sterile? Well, as close as one could get outside of a hospital. For good measure, Sage took the needle out with shaking fingers and doused it with hydrogen peroxide. Then she pulled out her candle lighter, burning the tip until it glowed.
Okay, now it was as germ free as it could be. With a deep, unwavering breath, Sage threaded the needle and walked back into the main living space. If she was going to seriously do this, she needed as much light as possible. The huge bay windows might be covered in foliage, but it was radiant here. Possessing an energy that calmed Sage the moment she sat down on the leather couch.
Looking out across the rooftops aimlessly, Sage slowly slid down the left shoulder of her robe and untied the sopping towel, tossing it to the wood floor. The cut beneath wasn't horrifying to look at, but wide enough that no matter how much her body bled, it couldn't regenerate or clot on its own.
She was lucky to study pre-med in college, or this situation would be much worse. Sage certainly wouldn't have the courage or steady hand it took to do this without at least the bare minimum of training. Which, in retrospect, was still close to none.
"Okay, you're stalling," she murmured, lifting the needle with a sharp intake of breath, about to dig it into the flesh when—
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.
A text. Sage glanced at her phone on the chipped coffee table only to dismiss it. No one's communication was urgent enough to warrant her stopping. She wound the thread around her palm, then positioned—
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.
Ignore it, she thought, gritting her teeth as the needle pierced her flesh. A stream of curses left her lips while every part of her shook and slumped except for the hand that held the needle firm. It was so painful tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and a fire sizzled beneath her skin. Sage refused to stop, pulling all the way through, and then again and again and again. It took seven in all to close the wound.
Seven whimpers.
Seven dizzy spells.
Seven shouts of fuck you all!
Sage felt nauseous by the end of it, head literally lolling on her shoulders as she slumped back, dropping the needle and letting it hang on her skin for a moment. She needed a breath. Just one fucking breath.
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.
"Shit, not now. NOT NOW!"
Sage screamed the last words even as she lurched forward, snatching the phone up. Every text was from an unknown number, each one increasingly frantic, angry. There were a lot of them now, most of which she'd missed in the haze of pain earlier. She furrowed her brows, scrolling.
Stop that. You don't know what you're doing.
Holy fuck, did I just see you ignore my message?
I swear to god, Kitten. Don't make me come over there.
You're actually fucking doing it.
Your fucking sewing yourself up.
… Who are you?
Holy hell, you're sexy.
Look at you, slumped on the couch with that sick, sly smile on your lips like you know how good you are.
I'd come lick the blood off if you let me.
Sage's mind reeled, clearing of the cobwebs that'd swathed it since she woke up. Kitten. Her chest flushed as she moved to the edge of the couch, the left side of her robe slipping all the way down to her elbow, barely hiding her perked nipple. This could be no one else but Hunter. She scanned the rooftops more acutely, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Did she really have a sly smile on her lips? All she could recall was grimacing, so she suspected he misinterpreted her agony for self satisfaction. Not that it mattered to Sage. She didn't plan on replying to any of it, no matter how much his stupid, quick wit got to her. The only message she sent was one of pure spite.
I see you didn't die. What a shame.
Then, with a scoff of distaste, Sage very theatrically threw the phone back onto the coffee table and stood up. Like hell she'd speak with the man who put her into this shitty situation. He cut her, twice. Superhuman or not, he was on her shit list.
Yasuo came barreling out of the bedroom at that moment, circling her legs and doing his potty dance. Sage groaned low in the back of her throat, but followed him to the door, not bothering to grab the leash. If they went to what she called the inner sanctum, an enclosed dog park in the center of the apartment complex, then it wasn't necessary. The other tenants could fuck off or try sewing themselves up to truck it down seven floors with their dog pulling on a leash.
She made it onto the elevator with slow steps, but that didn't matter when the entire metal box started swaying as soon as the doors closed. Going round and round until she prayed for a bucket, reminding her that she didn't eat dinner, and now it was already the middle of the next day. Plus she lost a lot of blood.
Even as they hit the first floor, the doors on the opposite side of the lobby dinging open, she heaved. Stumbling to grip the doors so it wouldn't close, Sage leaned heavily into the cool metal for support.
There was no one else in the dog park as Yas did his thing, trotting through the grass from place to place to sniff all the built-in chew toys and forgotten tennis balls. She wouldn't be getting out, and Sage hoped he knew that.
"Hurry up, Yas," she grouched, hanging over the edge when the mechanism started screeching.
The corgi refused to acknowledge her, loitering at the far end of the yard with far too much self importance. It pissed her off so much that she stepped out of the elevator, waggling her finger at him.
"Hey, you!" she screeched, just as the doors slid shut, trapping her down here.
Sage wasn't fast enough in her injured state to whirl and catch them with her sandal, thus the metal box was spirited away to the ether. And, sure enough, Yas borked his way over to her legs right then, sitting like the fake obedient boy that he was. Frustration mounted as Sage hit the call button once more, grumbling under her breath.
"You either really are human or the most air-headed, clueless supernatural I've ever met."
Sage jumped and whirled, cursing at the blackening edges of her vision and twinge of her arm. There Hunter stood, leaning heavily against a pillar that had absolutely no one on it before and couldn't hide a huge body of his caliber. She gritted her teeth and slammed the call button again - vigorously.
"Why are you here? Ask your friend Lock what happened when he tried to take my pendant. If you do it too, I don't know if you'd survive."
Hunter smiled, but it was more of a feral grimace as if he were out of practice. Seeing the whole of his face now made him appear even more rugged. His jawline was angular and covered in a smattering of peach fuzz. Sage hated it, but he was as handsome as Lock in a completely different way.
"I'm not weaker than fucking Hemlock, of all people. I can take it."
Sage raised her brows, impressed and interested at the other man's full name. Being named after poison was far more fun. Not to mention the behemoth's obvious inferiority complex. She decided to fuck with him, slamming the call button once more.
"You sure? Because that hole in your stomach would protest otherwise, big boy."
"What hole?"
Without necessity, the blonde tore off his black t-shirt, sliding it beneath straps until a chest holster was all that remained, cupping his pecs. Sage gasped, staring at them for a beat too long before glancing down.
Sure enough, the skin of Hunter's rigid abdomen was perfectly healthy. No hole or missing organs, no healing, closed wound still freshly pink. Nothing. Huh. If that didn't support Sage's theory of there being something strange going on, she didn't know what would.
Ask him, idiot.
Sage opened her mouth to speak but the dumbest, fumbling shit came out. "Damn, I wish I could do that," she replied, gesturing to her throbbing arm, eyes still glued to his perfect physique.
Sage might never have had a boyfriend before, but she'd seen a lot of TV shows and still had fucking eyes. This man was Henry Cavill hot. She wondered if he could growl like him…
Stop that train of thought right now.
"Yeah, you still have the needle in, by the way," he pointed out, pushing off the pillar and taking a step closer. "Want me to take care of that?"
Sage gulped, a certain part of her that had nothing to do with pain throbbing. Would he please re-holster those pecs staring her in the face? It was driving her up the wall because she didn't actually want this guy. Only her body found him pleasing because his personality sucked. She hit the button again, cursing out the wave of Sunday morning church goers undoubtedly holding up the line.
"No."
"Why not?" Hunter murmured right beside her ear.
Sage lurched forward, but couldn't go far, slamming her palm into the metal doors. Unfortunately, she instinctively lifted up her bad arm to support her weight. The stitches tightened, steamrolling her with pain. Hunter seemed to take it as an invitation to do as he pleased.
Stepping up beside her just as the elevator dinged, the going up button above winking to life, he lifted a hand and swiped. It was barely noticeable to the naked eye, those quick claws an inch too long to be normal. They did wonders to cut the thread clean.
The needle fell in slow motion before Hunter caught it in the air between two fingers, spinning it and holding it out. He was less than three inches away, the warmth of his body a radiant pulse beaconing Sage closer.
"I believe this is yours."
Sage blinked, pulling her robe up onto her shoulder and pocketing it. "Yeah."
The elevator doors slid open, showering the two of them in a golden glow that brought out the emerald of the man's gaze. He glanced inside to make sure no one was there before tugging her along with him. The warmth of him was ever worse through touch, an inferno against her fingers. Was that why he healed so fast? Some kind of too active metabolism?
Hunter followed her into the elevator without a fight, and Yasuo trotted after them, uncharacteristically quiet just like the last time he was in the same space as this man. Sage decided to ask about that first to ease them into a conversation about whatever the fuck he was and what he might want from her.
"Why is my dog acting like this?"
Hunter glanced down at the loaf between them sitting patient and quiet. "Like what? Obedient?"
Sage nodded, brows raised. "I know it's mostly a reflection on my training skills, but he's not obedient. He's just smart and pretends when it's convenient for him."
Rather than answer right away, Hunter stepped off the elevator on her floor and walked confidently right up to her door on the left side, popping it open. Sage tried to muster up some anger at the fact that the guy knew exactly which door was hers, but it was hard with the throbbing of her arm moving into her temples. Stomping inside, Sage slammed the door behind her so hard the crystals hanging from the ceiling lit up by edison bulbs all swayed, clinking together.
Hunter glanced back at her in question. "It's nothing to be mad about. Dogs are naturally submissive in my presence."
"And why is that?"
Sage crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the bright throb of agony it induced, tapping her foot. She knew how she must look. Hair a sad mop around her shoulders, robe stinking of iron, and face pale from her night spent tossing and turning. Hunter seemed to take in all the details, and, realizing she might be a bit fragile, he glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck.
"How about you get cleaned up and we'll talk? I can't stare at that blood any longer, it's making me jumpy."
Sage wanted to say something cutting about why that is, but didn't have the energy. She needed food, but she unfortunately left her sweet, sweet burger on the counter overnight so that was a no go. Yasuo ran further inside with Hunter, and Sage let him act like they were buddy-buddy while she stalked past and closed the door to her bedroom behind her.
She peeled off her robe, tossing it onto the tile bathroom floor before searching for a tank top to keep the injuries free of friction and a pair of sweats. Her ratty hair didn't dry right last night after collapsing into bed, so she ran a brush through it painfully before twisting it into a claw clip. She felt great joy in wearing a tank that read Fuck Off I'm Reading as she made her way back into the living room.
Hunter sat on the couch with Yasuo half in his lap as he scratched behind the dog's ears. That little traitor preened under the attention, humming in the back of his throat.
"Alright. I'm going to cook, and you're going to talk. Sounds good?"
Hunter glanced up, jade eyes doing a once over of her outfit, lips twitching when he read the graphic tee. "Sure. It's going to be a lot, though."
Sage waved him off as she stepped into the kitchen, opening the pantry to gather ingredients for chocolate chip pancakes. "Nothing I haven't read before."
"I saw that," Hunter mused, and she heard him shifting on the couch as if to get a better view of her. "You've read Myths and Legends - The Abridged Version and Supernatural Tales of the World."
Sage didn't turn or stop whisking, but her shoulders stiffened a bit. He'd been snooping in her bookshelves while she changed, and honestly, it shouldn't come as a surprise. However, she didn't like his condescending tone one bit as she moved to grease the cast iron pan with copious amounts of butter.
Focusing on making late lunch was the only thing keeping her grounded. There was a supernatural creature who wanted her dead in her fucking house and she could do nothing to evict him. She wasn't familiar with his personality, but going off of their few tense conversations, Hunter would stay until he wanted to go. It was as infuriating as it was terrifying. Sage whipped the batter faster, hand moving in clunky, swiveling movements.
"I'm going to assume you're making fun of me, which I don't appreciate in the least, by the way," she replied, lifting the whisk to point it at him.
Hunter shrugged. "I'm only here to tell you that those books are garbage. Bullshit written by humans with an interest in the occult, and what you are isn't even in there."
Sage was pouring perfectly round dollops of batter into the pan when she heard that. Her left hand jerked in surprise, connecting all four of the pancakes with more batter to make one giant one. She sighed and set down the bowl, her heartbeat rapid and fluttery.
Sage was lucky she'd already taken her pills today and they were having this conversation in the comfort of her home. Any outlier would've set off an anxiety attack of epic proportions. She glared at the bastard lounging across her couch and petting her dog.
"...What I am? I'm human, you douche canoe."
Hunter huffed a laugh, standing up to meet her on the opposite side of the island, palms pressing into the linoleum counter as he leaned in. Sage was grateful for the opportunity to turn and flip the monstrosity from earlier, hands shaking.
"You're not, but your kind is the most human out of all supernaturals, if that helps your conscience."
Sage wished it did.
"Say what you came here for before I throw this hot pancake in your face rather than let you eat it."
Hunter sat on one of the bar stools tucked under the counter, and Sage literally heard it groan. She wanted to laugh, but it refused to surface through the thin layer of anxious panic now coating every tingling inch of her skin. Her palms were sweaty, and it took two too many tries to shuffle the finished pancake from her pan to a plate.
She knew Hunter didn't miss a single thing. His eyes were like a brand searching for the perfect place to sink in. Out of habit, she wrapped one hand around her necklace as she slid the plate over to him along with more butter and homemade syrup from her family farm up north. Thankfully, he didn't comment, only slathered his food in sticky sweetness with intense focus.
"You're a druid."
The words flew out of his mouth as if he'd mumbled them as quickly as he could. Sage spun through her mental catalog trying to figure out what that means. All she could recall was that druids have a deep connection to the Earth, more so than any other supernatural she'd read about. But, apparently, her sources couldn't be trusted.
Sage swallowed hard. "Okay. What does that mean?"
Hunter took nearly half the giant pancake on the fork and shoved it in his mouth, talking through it. "Druids are humans with a knack for natural magic in a much wider capacity than Fae."
"Than Fae?" Sage asked, voice lighter than air.
Hunter swallowed before looking up at her white face. "Yes, Fae are real. Go back to your cooking so you don't faint from the shock."
Sage still hated his smug face, but did as she was told. To play it safe, she only poured two into the skillet so it wouldn't run. Then placed exactly eight chocolate chips in each, muscles strained.
This is normal, so normal.
"As I was saying, Fae are gifted with magic upon birth. The Earth grants them power on her own terms. However, druids, in my opinion, are more impressive. They take the magic they need based on will alone. Drawing from Mother Earth no matter if she's feeling generous."
Sage flipped the pancakes, but it took three tries before she could manage it. She was a druid? Someone who acted like a human, talked like a human, but could control magic like a supernatural. Swallowing twice, she tried to come up with a question that wasn't totally ridiculous.
"And you know this about me because my pendant exploded white light when I needed it?"
Sage carefully stacked the pancakes and slathered them in syrup, remaining on the other side of the island to eat. She needed the distance. If she looked at him too closely, Sage saw flashes of sharp claws and snarling beasts. It was unsettling, and she tried to tell herself it didn't matter. That it was nothing more than another one of her anxious delusions.
"More or less," Hunter replied. "That pendant is a Celtic knot, most likely inherited from your mother. Is she dead?"
Sage stiffened at the callous question. Truth was, she never met her real mother. She was adopted when she was a baby, but Sage wasn't about to tell this homicidal maniac that. Checking the clock, she was more than grateful to have an excuse for kicking him out. She had twenty minutes before stream.
"You're an ass. Get out, I have more important things to do."
Hunter pushed his plate away and leaned in. "More important than figuring out what you are?"
Sage scowled. "So you admit you're not sure."
He scowled right back at her. "There's no definitive test for Druids. It's intuitive."
Rather than argue, she stalked over to her gaming rig and started it up, letting fans whirring calm her down. Sage could feel Hunter watching her, but she refused to acknowledge it as she slowly grabbed a thick sweatshirt from the back of her couch, already regretting having to pull it on.
Yasuo groaned and rolled over, showing his belly. She gave it a few scratches and smiled when he hummed, big ears twitching. Still, the hulking man behind her didn't move to stand. Sage kept her back to him while loitering in the center of the room, trying to hype herself up. She needed to lift her arms and by the way the stitches were already throbbing, Sage knew it was going to hurt like hell.
"Want help with that?"
"Why haven't you left yet?"
The stool scraped across the wood. "You're impossible. Come here."
Sage turned to him, warding him away with her good hand. "No! I don't want your help. Leave."
Hunter sighed as if she were being hysterical, brows raised and hands splayed to either side. "Come on, I'm not going to kill you. That initial swing back at the bar wasn't even meant for you."
Not even meant for me?
Sage stared at him. Who else was the mace meant for, then? That poor man who died for nothing? She clenched her fist around the fabric of her sweatshirt, her distrustful expression turning into one of pure disgust.
"You're an idiot if you think that's reassuring after what you and your friends pulled yesterday. In fact, I'm not sure why I even let you in here. Oh, that's right, you let yourself in!"
With every word, her voice rose until Sage was shouting at him and waving her arms, unable to stop the throes of rage. Her arm quivered in pain, and it seemed Hunter noticed because he winced just watching her before striding over and snatching the sweatshirt from her hands.
"Fucking hell you're annoying," he snapped. "Let me do this and I'll leave. Hold out your arms."
She crossed them instead, cheek twitching. "No."
Hunter's lips pulled back from his teeth in a feral snarl, green eyes flashing. "No?"
That one word held so much warning that Sage took an involuntary step back. "You heard me."
His fingers tightened around the fabric, twisting and near ripping it in half as he stared at her, breathing heavy. Sage thought he might've never been told no so blatantly before, and if so, the response he defaulted to was violence. Now that her pendant protected her, Hunter had no choice but to ask nicely for it, something he still hadn't done.
Yasuo perked up on the couch, rolling back over and narrowing his golden eyes at the both of them as if to say no fighting! Sage sighed and dropped her arms before slowly, so very slowly, lifting them up in front of her. She didn't look at him as she did so, lips twisting.
Surprisingly, she heard him laugh. Deep, husky, and a little scratchy from disuse. Sage glanced over quickly to catch it, steam rolled by the soft, endearing smile playing across his lips.
"What?" she snapped, feeling defensive.
He shook his head, wiping one hand across his mouth before scrunching up the fabric to guide it up her arms. "Your pouting face is cute, that's all."
She scrunched up her nose. "I'm not pouting."
"You saying that is pouting."
"Stop being an ass."
"Then stop being an easy target."
By the time they were done bickering, he held the head hole over her face, asking for her to slip inside. Sage did, feeling a little shy for how intimate this was. The soft fabric cascaded across her skin, barely bothering her stitches with how huge it was. When it was done they both stepped back, looking at anything other than each other.
"Uh, okay. I have to work now."
Hunter nodded, turning on his heel toward the entry hall. "Alright then. I'll reach out again now that I have your number."
"You mean now that you stole it."
"Potato - pototo."