You need someone to help you, she thought. And somebody is better than nobody at all, right?
Suddenly, she pressed herself up against Ricky, shocking him. She used a hand to close the curtain before pushing her tongue into his mouth. He started to protest but abruptly shut up, allowing her to snake her hands down his pants, grabbing his circumcised member in her tight fist. Her mouth traveled along his jawline, and he moaned slightly as she began to jerk at him, feeling a telltale bulge in his pants.
“Mm, you like that?” Sage breathed into his ear as her hand increased its speed.
“Oh, yes,” Ricky squeaked. Sage moved her other hand to massage him, and her mouth moved down his neck, nibbling and sucking. She turned around, placing a leg up against the drink cart, and smiled back at him beguilingly.
“Take me,” she hissed quietly, but as the words left her lips, she recoiled in shock at her behavior.
What the fuck are you doing?
“Wait,” she gasped, regaining her standing position.
“Wait, what?” Ricky demanded, his eyes wide with confusion. She did not want another man near her and her baby. Shame threatened to choke her as she thought about what she had been planning: sleeping with Ricky so she could claim him to be the father.
You have finally gone off the deep end. You’re disgusting and manipulative. And, you’re already too far along. Have some self-respect, Sage. What has Cruz done to you?
But she knew that it had taken two to tango, and she was just as much to blame as he was. Out of nowhere, her stepmother’s voice piped into her head.
“Let me give you this piece of advice. Don’t ever depend on a man for your happiness. If you think you can escape a bad life by running away with a stranger, you get what you deserve. You must learn to find what you are lacking in yourself. No one else will give you what you need in life.”
“Pull your pants up,” Sage said coldly, swiping the curtain open. Ricky scrambled to retrieve his clothing, glaring after her in fury. She stalked down the aisle to get as far away from him as possible.
The following day, from her layover in Berlin, she called human resources and put in her resignation, effective two weeks from that day.
11
Jett Reyes and his three wives lived on a private island off the coast of Eritrea. Cruz, Matin, and their three sisters by Jett’s first wife had also grown up there, basking in the arid heat of the African sun and frolicking along the beaches surrounding the Palace of Ara. While Jett was Lebanese by birth, upon accepting his prided title as Sheik, he had quickly searched for a private fortress in which to raise his growing family. In those days, the bears had been known to disappear for centuries at a time, secluded from mortals and Enchanted alike.
Ara, Jett’s first wife and Cruz’s and Matin’s mother, had always been his favorite, but the sons she had borne him left a lot to be desired in his mind. He would have much rather had Kamila’s youngest boy, or Alyssa’s only son be successor to his estate, but traditions still remained strong, and Jett hopelessly put all his investments into Cruz’s hands. Jett considered himself a man of honor, or at least one who respected tradition. Matin had been named heir to the Reyes Corporation, being the eldest son, if only by seven short minutes.
“Mr. Reyes,” the driver groveled. Cruz stepped toward the ancient man. He shuffled toward him to take his bag, but Cruz waved him away, jumping into the rear of the limousine impatiently. It had been a grueling ten-hour flight, although he was grateful that Northeastern did a direct journey from Paris, unlike any other airline. He would have been more grateful to have found Sage on the aircraft, but he had not.
I did not even build up the courage to ask anyone if they knew her, he chided himself. I am a disgrace. No wonder Father is so disappointed in my lack of cunning.
“Please hurry, Omar. I am exhausted,” he told his father’s most loyal employee. Omar nodded, and Cruz closed the partition between the windows. He had no interest in speaking with the old snitch that morning. It was no secret that the staff was owned by Jett and would report conversations verbatim to their master.
The limo was at the harbor in Massawa in two hours, but Cruz had barely noticed the ride. He had fallen asleep, despite the inconsistent ground over which they drove, missing the stunningly beautiful east African landscape. He dreamed of Sage. She was telling him something, but he could not understand what she was saying. Her lips were moving frantically, and suddenly, her face became another’s—his father’s. Jett’s expression was one of twisted contempt.
“You must kill the girl,” he said.
Cruz started awake, a cold sweat breaking over his face. The limo was driving onto his father’s yacht.
“Is my father here?” he asked Omar, lowering the glass between them halfway.
“Yes,” Omar said. Nodding, Cruz stepped out of the car and into the carport.
“Ah, Cruz!” Jett called jovially, extending his arms. “Welcome home!”
This is not my home, he thought with annoyance. He accepted his father’s embrace and smiled.
“Thank you, Father.”
“How was your flight?” Jett asked, escorting him toward the upper decks. Cruz followed.
Unnecessary, he replied in his head.
“Fine, Father, thank you. How are my mother, Kamila, Alyssa, and the others?”
“Everyone is very well. Missing you, especially your sisters. You should visit more often.”
“The distance makes it difficult, Father,” Cruz pointed out as they made their way onto the sunny exterior of the main veranda. He saw several of his half-siblings milling around, and he stopped to greet them warmly.
“Sit down, Cruz,” Jett told him, pointing at a wooden lounge chair. The boat began to move out to sea, and Cruz obliged.
He must need something desperately, he thought wryly. He could not wait until I arrived at the palace.
“Would you care for a drink? I have a bottle of that scotch you seem to like so much.”
Cruz felt himself tense. As a rule, Jett didn’t drink, adhering to the “body as a temple” myth. Jett chucked humorlessly as he noted Sage’s expression.
“Oh, come now, son. You don’t think I know what blasphemous acts you commit while living like a western slave with their sinful ideals?”
Cruz bit his lip and watched a cabin servant place a full glass of hundred-year-old scotch before him. Is this going to be a lecture? Because I don’t think I can stomach it today.
“Go ahead. Drink it,” Jett urged. Cruz could feel the eyes of his siblings upon him, but he still did not stir. “I said, drink it!” Jett screamed. Struggling to keep his composure, Cruz reached for the tumbler and wet his lips. “Drink it. All of it.” His father’s tone was quieter now, more sinister, and Cruz swallowed the contents of the glass. He stared defiantly at the giant of a man sitting across from him, a mass of flowing robes and gold chains.
He looks like something out of a Hollywood movie, Cruz thought arbitrarily. As if his public relations agent told him he was required to dress as such, and he went overboard in costume. He tried to focus on his father’s lips as the scotch hit his stomach lining, warming his body.
“Cruz, I do not know where I failed with you,” Jett said conversationally. “I tried to be a good father, a good provider. I gave you all the luxuries you could dream about. I tried to instill good values in you.” Cruz forced himself not to laugh.
Conning people into building an empire is hardly what I would call “good values”, Father, he thought viciously. He said nothing, though, biting on his lower lip. His father was a dangerous man, and not one who appreciated being contradicted. Despite all of Cruz’s misgivings, he knew better than to confront the man and all he stood for.
“Yet you still go off and disregard our family name with your drinking and your living in Europe. You have no sense of honor, no sense of family.”
“Dad, I—”
“Shut your mouth!” Cruz did so immediately, anxiety swishing in his b
elly. It didn’t seem right that a bear, a powerful shifter of over three thousand years of age, could be so easily intimidated by anything, and yet Jett always seemed to bring him to his knees. He supposed that was what made him so powerful.
“What you did in Madrid cost us, your family, millions of dollars,” Jett told him heatedly. “It made me realize how little regard you have for us. And then, I suddenly realized why that was.”
The hairs on the back of Cruz’s neck began to rise, and gooseflesh prickled his skin. I should have known he would get his revenge. He always does. What is he going to do this time? Disinheriting me will only bring shame to the family. Exile? Forcing me back to the island to live? Cruz’s thoughts wandered, but he knew his father’s mind was much more warped than his would ever be. It did not matter how much he imagined, Jett would out-contrive his worst nightmare.
“Would you like to know what I think, Cruz?”
Cruz did not wish to know anything going through his father’s mind. “Yes.”
“I think you have no regard for family because you do not know what it means to be responsible for one of your own.”
Cruz’s dark eyes watched his father in confusion, and Jett signaled for the butler to refill his son’s glass.
“What?” Cruz asked uncomprehendingly. “Of course I do.”
“No,” Jett insisted. “You don’t, and you won’t until you’re tasked with caring for children of your own.”
The idea was ludicrous. Cruz had no room to care for children, even the older ones. Between doing the Council’s bidding and running the Reyes Corporation, he barely had time to breathe. Was his father about to dump his half-siblings on him? It would not be the worst punishment in the world. In fact, it might save the younger ones from Jett’s influence. The idea began to grow on Cruz. Jett laughed and gestured at him to drink while signaling to someone with his other hand.
“Drink that. You will need it.”
A girl in a black niqab walked forward. Cruz could see nothing but a pair of wide, timid brown eyes poking out from her stifling veil. She bowed her head and shifted her gaze demurely. Cruz glanced at his father and then at his siblings around the boat. None of the women ever covered themselves so severely. While they all wore hijabs, he had not once witnessed a member of his family in a niqab. On the contrary, the women and men wore the latest fashions.
“I intend to give you a wife,” Jett said. “Meet Kalyn. You will be married in three months.”
Cruz felt his jaw tighten.
This I should have foreseen, he thought grimly, his mouth becoming a fine line. A protest sprung to his lips, but before he could speak, Jett offered him a piece of advice.
“If you refuse, Cruz, things will become very difficult for you, I promise. You have had your fun, but now it is time to settle down and think of your future and the future of your family.”
“I have always thought of my family,” Cruz answered stiffly. “Forcing me to marry this girl will not change anything.” Jett leaned forward, his black eyes narrowing lethally.
“This had best change everything, Cruz,” he hissed. “You have three months to get your affairs in order, drink the finest scotch you can find, and return home to marry Kalyn. I suggest you make the most of it.” Jett sat back, a small smirk forming on his lips as he silently challenged Cruz to fight.
The younger bear closed his mouth, the blood in his body pooling to his feet. All he could think about was Sage in that moment, the look on her face, the curve of her chin.
“Did you hear what I said?” Jett growled. “You have three months.”
“No,” Cruz replied quietly. “I won’t do it, Father. I’m sorry.” He rose from the chair and ambled away, even though there was nowhere for him to go. Even with his protests, he knew that he would ultimately fall to his father’s whims. Because his father always won.
But if he could find Sage in between, maybe, just maybe, he would have a shot of happiness.
“There’s no point in fighting it, son,” Jett told him, appearing at his side as he stared out into the water. “You are no longer any use to the Council, since they have taken the sword from you. I have had a long discussion with Theo as to your use among them, and we are all in agreement—your usefulness has expired. Your prestige has worn off now that Helios is no longer a real threat. What are you going to do with the rest of your life if you don’t settle down and breed? That’s your job as a bear and a man.”
Cruz cast his father a sidelong look and shook his head.
“No one is safe until Helios is caught,” he reminded him, knowing that he was grasping at straws. “If I marry, you’re putting that girl in danger.”
“The Council has assembled teams to find Helios, but if he hasn’t shown himself yet, he’s probably living in the sewers now, among the rats. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” Jett placed a hand over his son’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t disappoint me again, Cruz. You’re wearing on my last nerve.”
He didn’t wait for his son to respond and instead turned away to rejoin his family, leaving Cruz’s gut to rock with nausea.
12
“How could you not tell me you were knocked up?” Dayna demanded, her dark eyes flashing with indignation. If Sage was being honest, it was clear that her friend was more hurt than anything, and again, Sage felt shame. It seemed that humiliation followed the ginger-haired girl everywhere she went those days. It was impossible to shake the dread, as if it had been ingrained into her and was part of her DNA now.
She turned to look at her best friend, a picture frame in her hand. She gave her an apologetic smile which didn’t reach her eyes.
“I think I was in denial myself,” she answered honestly. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing now, Sage?” Dayna wanted to know. “Because I don’t think you’ve thought this all the way through.”
The two were packing up Sage’s beautiful apartment on Park Avenue, reminiscing over the treasures they had discovered.
I have lived here for a decade, she thought sorrowfully. All the memories of my adult life are here and in a hotel room in Madrid.
“It will be good,” Sage said with optimism she did not feel. She had not been left with many choices. While she had been paid handsomely during her time with Northeastern, she had spent wildly, boasting a closetful of designer dresses, high heels, and expensive handbags. She had a dozen high-end perfumes, cases of contour make-up, and barely any money in the bank.
In my defence, I was not expecting to be bringing a live human onto the planet now or ever, she thought ruefully.
“It doesn’t sound like it will be good,” Dayna remarked. “You’re going to live with your stepmother.”
“Yeah, but it’s in Paris! The City of Lights.”
“I thought Paris was The City of Love,” Dayna said sullenly, deigning to be contrary. Sage gave her a warm smile.
“Oh, come on, Day. You’re in Paris all the time. You’ll have a place to crash.”
“Sounds awesome. Your stepmom, her husband, your screaming infant, their two little shits, and a miserable, dejected version of you.”
Sage smirked at Dayna’s dismal summary. I really am going to miss the hell out of her. She’s been the light of my life for ten years.
“Some people believe that motherhood makes them happy,” she countered. “You’re going to be an aunt! Aren’t you excited?” She refused to let Dayna’s devil’s advocacy drag her lower than she was already feeling. She wanted to say it was the only option which would allow her to keep her baby, yet she kept her mouth closed, knowing that Dayna would argue with her further.
She was leaving for Paris at noon the following day. Micheline had reluctantly agreed to help her stepdaughter get on her feet, but Sage could hear the resentment in her voice. She had not even bothered telling her father, knowing that he was under the reign of the wicked bleached bimbo.
I’ll send him an email when the kid arrives, she thou
ght sadly. She had hoped that David would be the same man to her child as he had been to her, with the camping and fishing, but David Aubin was not the same father she’d had in her childhood. Suddenly, he was Angelique’s drunken puppet.
Sage was starting her final trimester, and she had ballooned out suddenly, though only in her belly. Looking at her from the ribs up, no one would have guessed Sage was six months pregnant. Her hormones were beginning to overtake her, and she found herself sobbing inexplicably into her pillow or at commercials for toilet tissue. She talked to the baby constantly. She had opted to not find out its sex, but she found it unnerving referring to the child as “it,” so she called the fetus “Bean”.
“What are you going to name Bean when Bean is an actual being?” Dayna joked, shifting the topic. Sage realized she had tears pooling in her eyes.
“I don’t know. I have to figure it out when Bean comes out. If Bean looks like their father, well then, it’s going to have to be something exotic. If Bean looks like me, then we’ll have to name Bean—”
“Something white as hell?” The women started to laugh, and Dayna eyed her friend with compassion. “I know I am not the most sympathetic ear, Sage, but I want you to know I think you’re so brave for doing this by yourself. I can help you find this guy. There must be somewhere to—”
“No.” Dayna looked up, surprised at Sage’s tone. “Thank you, but no. That ship has sailed. I spent too much time daydreaming about a guy who was just a fling. He left me without even saying goodbye. I can raise Bean alone. I just need a little help to get on my feet.” She didn’t tell Dayna about how worried she was to have a shifter child around a family who knew nothing about her shifter ways. Then again, shifters had hidden their secrets from their mortal partners for millennia. Sage could do it, too.
When had her life gotten so complicated? Only a few months ago, she was carefree, living the dream. Maybe Dayna was right. Maybe she was already losing a big part of herself. Would she ever get it back?
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