Taken by the Outcast Alpha (Whispers of Fate)

18. Sage

Chapter eighteen

Sage

I watch as Finn and Derek work together to secure Finn's motorcycle in a rented storage unit. The sight of the bike disappearing behind the metal door leaves me with an unexpected pang of loss. It's strange how quickly I've grown accustomed to the rumble of the engine and the wind whipping through my hair.

"My bike's too recognizable," Finn explains as we climb into a nondescript rental car. "This should help us blend in better."

I nod, understanding the logic, but as we pull out of the lot, I can't shake the feeling of confinement. The car feels small and restrictive after the freedom of the motorcycle. I shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable, but it's not just the physical space that's bothering me. There's a heaviness in the air, a tension that wasn't there before.

Finn navigates through the town, heading towards one of the parking areas near the hiking trails. The trunk is loaded with camping equipment—another layer of camouflage for our true purpose. I should feel safer, more prepared, but instead, I find myself longing for the simplicity of clinging to Finn as we sped down the open road.

As if sensing my discomfort, Finn's hand appears on the center console, palm up—an invitation. I hesitate for a moment before sliding my hand into his. The effect is immediate. A spark of electricity shoots up my arm, followed by a wave of comfort that settles over me like a warm blanket.

I focus on our joined hands, unable to look up at Finn's face. This need for connection, for his touch specifically, is overwhelming. It's not just about feeling safe anymore. There's something more, something deeper that I'm not quite ready to name.

I reluctantly release Finn's hand as he maneuvers the car into a parking spot. The loss of contact leaves me feeling oddly bereft. Without a word, I open my door and step out, stretching my legs after the drive. As I turn, I find Finn already at my side, his amber eyes intense.

"How the hell did you do that?" I ask, startled by his sudden appearance.

In one fluid motion, Finn gently pushes me against the closed car door. His body is so close I can feel the heat radiating off him. "Wolf speed," he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. His hand cups my cheek, rough calluses contrasting with the tenderness of his touch.

Before I can process what's happening, Finn's lips are on mine. It's like every nerve ending in my body ignites, sending a rush of heat through me. The kiss is passionate and intense, yet there's a hint of restraint, as if he's holding back a storm inside. His lips are soft, but there's an underlying strength there—a hint of the wolf lurking beneath the surface. I find myself responding, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. For a moment, I forget everything—my fears, my doubts, the danger we're in. There's only Finn and the way he makes me feel.

But then, as suddenly as it started, he pulls away. I'm left breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. I search his eyes, trying to understand what just happened. I see the desire burning in his amber gaze, but there's something else there, too—a hint of uncertainty, maybe even fear. Before I can say anything, he releases me and takes a step back, running a hand through his hair.

Finn's eyes lock with mine, their amber depths swirling with emotion. "You aren't the only one craving the connection," he murmurs, his voice husky.

My heart races, and I struggle to find words. The intensity of what I'm feeling for this man I've known for such a short time is overwhelming. Part of me wants to run, to protect myself from the vulnerability of it all. But a stronger part wants to pull him close and never let go.

I watch as Finn opens the trunk and pulls out our two backpacks. He's loaded his pack with all the heavy gear, leaving mine surprisingly light.

"You know I can carry more than this, right?" I ask, feeling a bit guilty about the uneven distribution.

Finn's eyes meet mine, a hint of amusement in their amber depths. "I know you'll want to keep all the nectar with you."

I open my mouth to protest, "But I can—"

"I know you can," Finn interrupts gently, shouldering his pack with ease. The muscles in his arms flex under the weight, and I find myself momentarily distracted. "But do you doubt I can carry this?"

I hesitate, taking in his powerful frame and confident stance. "No," I admit.

A playful grin spreads across Finn's face. "Then let's head out," he says with a wink that sends a flutter through my stomach.

As we start down the trail, I feel a mix of emotions. Finn's protectiveness is touching, but there's a part of me that bristles at the idea of being coddled. I've spent so long taking care of myself, relying on my own strength and magic. It's strange to have someone looking out for me like this.

Yet, as I watch Finn navigate the path ahead, his movements graceful despite the heavy pack, I feel a warmth spreading through my chest. There's something comforting about his presence, a sense of security I haven't felt in a long time.

The forest around us is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves. The air is crisp and clean, filled with the scent of pine and earth.

I steal glances at Finn as we trek through the forest. His movements are so fluid, so at ease in this environment. It makes me wonder if he enjoys camping, if this could be something we'd do together under different circumstances. The thought of future trips, just the two of us without the looming threat of Damien and Victor, sends a flutter through my stomach.

But how do I even broach that subject? What if he says yes? The implications of a shared future make my head spin. And if he says no... well, that's a different kind of ache I'm not sure I'm ready to face.

Better not to know, right?

As that thought crosses my mind, I feel a sudden shift in the air around us. The magic of the forest seems to pulse, growing stronger with each step. The sound of rushing water reaches my ears, and I recognize the signs Evelyn described.

I stop abruptly, my heart racing with excitement and a touch of nervousness. Without a word, Finn shrugs off his backpack and moves to help me with mine.

"You feel it too?" I ask, searching his face for any sign of recognition.

"No," Finn admits, his amber eyes meeting mine. "But I trust that you do."

He starts unpacking the tent, his movements efficient and practiced. I watch him for a moment, struck by the easy way he accepted my perception of the magical shift. There's no doubt, no questioning—just trust.

As Finn works on setting up our temporary home, I take in our surroundings. The energy here almost feels alive, tingling against my skin. We're close to the Moonflower Nectar, I can feel it.