Max

The rain pelted Max’s skin as they made their way through the trees toward the last safe house location. He felt as if he’d been out in the rain for weeks instead of the two days it had taken them to traverse the distance to all of the safe houses. They would have made much better time, but the storm continued to lash the earth.

At his side, Maeve shivered and pulled the hood of her cloak closer around her face. Despite their brutal pace and the punishing weather, she continued onward without once complaining about the travel conditions. One of them had always stayed by her when they arrived somewhere new, but never once had she attempted to tell anyone else what she knew. Timber and Daniel were beginning to trust her more, and Max firmly believed she would not betray them.

He stopped outside the tree hiding the final safe house and pushed the button, opening it up and slipping inside behind the others. Within, they discovered well over three hundred people gathered and waiting for word it was time to move on. Max accepted the food and ale as well as the dry clothes offered to him.

The occupants of the safe house informed them there were more humans and vampires waiting in some nearby caves. At every safe house they’d gone to, they’d been told the same thing. Their numbers were more than they’d hoped for, and their recruits were ready to wage a war.

He would have given anything to be able to spend the night here, but they had to return to let Aria and Braith know they’d succeeded in making the rounds and that everyone should be arriving by tomorrow night.

With dry clothes and a full belly, he stepped back into the rain and in minutes his clothes were plastered to his skin. Maeve shivered again and he had to resist the impulse to drape his arm around her shoulders and draw her close to give her some of his body heat. He knew she would only draw away from him if he tried. They moved swiftly through the trees and back toward the safe house closest to the palace.

No one spoke as they walked and jogged over the sodden terrain. They were only five miles away from the barn when Daniel came to an abrupt halt. He ran a hand through his blond hair, shaking the rain from it as he tilted his head to the side. Max took hold of Maeve’s arm, drawing her back to stand beside him while Daniel surveyed the woods.

“What is it?” Timber asked.

“I don’t know,” Daniel said. “But I don’t like it.”

Max’s gaze ran over the trees and woods as he searched for anything out of the ordinary. As the hair on his nape stood up, he turned to look behind him, but still saw nothing there. “I think we need to get out of the open,” he said.

“Yes,” Daniel agreed.

Daniel turned and jogged up a steep hillside. Max followed closely behind him with Maeve, while Timber brought up the rear. At the top of the cliff, Max turned to look back down the rocky face as Daniel and Timber slipped into the small cave created by an outcropping of rocks. Maeve stood at his side, her arm trembling in his grasp. He knew the tremor was from the cold instead of fear; she had little fear of most things.

A flash of movement within the trees drew his attention to the right as a dozen vampires rode into view. The two of them slipped back, creeping into the small cave. Daniel and Timber were twenty feet away, examining the back wall. “Any way out?” Max inquired.

“No,” Timber said.

“There’s at least a dozen of them down there.”

“I don’t think they’ll come up here,” Daniel murmured as he turned toward them. “At least I hope not.”

Max crept back toward the opening of the cave and crouched at the entrance. He rested his fingers on the stone as he gazed down at the vampires clustered below. “What are they doing?” Maeve whispered from behind him.

“I think they caught our scent, but with the storm they can’t pinpoint us,” he replied.

“Wonderful,” she murmured.

Max remained kneeling, keeping watch as the vampires mulled about for a few minutes more before slipping into the woods. He didn’t trust them not to be somewhere down there, waiting to ambush them, and neither did the others as no one suggested continuing on right now.

A shiver worked its way over his chilled skin. Goose bumps covered his skin as night descended. Daniel and Timber were sleeping when Maeve knelt at his side again and handed him a piece of soggy bread from the last safe house.

“When can we leave?” she asked him.

“Not until morning, at least.”

She sat next to him and pressed her back against the wall. She’d pulled her wet cloak off earlier and set it with the others in the back of the cave. The thin shirt she wore underneath stuck to her petite frame as it dried. She had to be freezing, he certainly was, but still she didn’t complain, and he couldn’t build a fire to warm her.

Her black hair tumbled in waves around her shoulders as she picked at her piece of bread. The sleeves of her shirt had been pinned into place, hiding the scars there. Her arm brushed against his as her fingers pulled at the bread. He sensed she had something to say, but he waited until she was ready to speak instead of questioning her.

“Do you still have nightmares?” she inquired after a few minutes.

Though they had only briefly discussed it before, he knew she was talking about his time as a blood slave. “Yes, do you?”

“Yes.” She stuck a piece of bread in her mouth and chewed on it. “Almost every night.” Her fingers went to the scar on her face and traced over it.

“How did you get that?” he asked.

Her hand fell away, and her gaze focused on the opposite wall. “My captor sometimes thought it was more fun to cut me open to drink my blood. It’s not the only one I have.”

Max clamped his teeth together, barely containing his need to slam his fist into the cave wall. He took a steadying breath. She was a fighter, but she wouldn’t handle seeing that kind of unprovoked violence from him, not after what she’d experienced.

“I see,” he said when he could trust himself to speak again. He knew he couldn’t show her pity; she would turn away from him if he did.

She continued to stare ahead, her fingers fiddling with the bread in her hand. “I survived at least, many didn’t.”

“Very true,” he replied, though he knew a part of him had died in Katrina’s hands.

Feeling more in control of himself again, he brushed a strand of her hair from her cheek. She flinched away when he traced over her scar. “Don’t pull away from me,” he said and rested his hand against her cheek. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid of being hurt,” she retorted. “The scar reminds me to never be weak again, and I don’t like anyone touching it.”

“What happened to you doesn’t mean you were weak.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No.”

For a second, she turned into his palm before looking away once more. “Then what does it mean?”

“That sometimes shit happens, and there is nothing you can do about it. That doesn’t mean you’re weak. It simply means you’re alive.”

She placed the loaf of bread on the ground and pulled at the edges of her sleeves, though they already covered her scars. Moving away from the wall, she turned to face him as she knelt before him. He watched in fascination as she took hold of his hand before she slowly worked the sleeve of his shirt up.

Normally, he pulled away from people, ashamed for them to see the burns and bite marks encircling his wrists and rising up his forearms, but he allowed her to explore them. She also tried to keep most of her scars hidden, but she had to bare the one on her face for the world to see, and he wanted to give this baring of himself to her.

He welcomed her delicate, chilled fingers running over his skin. He saw only understanding in her eyes as she uncovered more of his scars. She knew how he’d acquired every one of those marks and the degradation that had come with each one of them.

She drew her bottom lip into her mouth as she continued to stroke him with fascination. It had been years since he’d allowed anyone to look at him so openly, to touch him in such a way. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed and craved it until her skin warmed his.

His gaze fell to her tempting mouth. He’d give anything to be able to taste her. Her hands stilled on him and he lifted his eyes to hers.

“Did your captor do other things to you?” she asked. “Besides the feeding and the torture?”

He knew she spoke of the sexual abuse, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask the question. “Yes.”

Her head bowed, her black hair falling forward to shield her face. Tears brimmed in her eyes and one slid down her cheek. “Mine too,” she whispered.

He smothered the burning rage that burst through his chest. “Is he still alive?” Max grated through his teeth. Because if he was, Max was going to make it a point to remedy that.

“No. He was killed during the war. What of yours?”

“She’s also dead.”

“Good.”

Leaning forward, he encircled his hand around the back of her head and drew her toward him. She flinched then melted against him when he placed the lightest of kisses to her lips before sitting back. She sighed when he pulled her against him and settled her within his lap. Like a kitten, she nestled against his chest.

He’d never felt needed before, but he felt it now. She needed him, and he needed her. She understood what few in this world could, understood him and what he lived with every day, just as he understood her. Turning his head into her hair, he inhaled the scent of the rain clinging to her skin.

“No one will ever hurt you again,” he murmured.

She tipped her head back, her cerulean eyes searching his before she leaned up and tentatively kissed his lips again. Forcing himself to go slowly, he threaded his fingers through her damp hair, holding her against him as he brushed his tongue over her lips. She stiffened for a second before relaxing in his hold and opening her mouth to his.

Her fingers clenched in his shirt while he tasted her. His heart raced in his chest as his hands gripped her tighter. She was so small and she was his; in that instant, he knew it was true. He would do everything he could to keep her safe because she belonged with him.

She broke the kiss off, her breath coming in small pants as she rested her forehead against the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t… I don’t… I’m broken.”

“No,” he said and kissed her forehead. “You’re not broken.”

“How can you know that?” she whispered.

“Because I have felt broken before too, but not now.”

“And how do you feel now?”

He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Whole.”

Her gaze traveled over his face before falling to his mouth again. “Whole,” she murmured and lifted her fingers to run them over his lips. “What if I can never feel that way again?”

“You can.”

She pulled her fingers away from his lips and rested them against her own. Max could still feel the heat of her against his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to replace her fingers with his lips, but he didn’t make a move toward her again. She’d let him know when she was ready for that.

“Whole,” she said again and nestled against his chest once more. “Have you ever told anyone about what you went through in there?”

“No, have you?”

“No,” she said and touched the scar on her face once more.

Max rested his hand over hers. “The vampire who bought me was named Katrina,” he said as he leaned against the rocks and stared at the wall across from him.

Memories he’d worked so hard to bury surged to the forefront of his mind as he recalled those early days in Katrina’s hold, when he’d still been certain he would be able to break free. Then the later days, when he’d been certain he would die. He’d pleaded for death many times, but his request was never granted. Instead, Jack had arrived one day and released him from his prison. He’d been set free, yet there were times he still felt imprisoned by his memories and the nightmares.

For the first time, he set all of those memories free and told someone what he’d endured at Katrina’s brutal hands. He didn’t hold any of it back; there was no reason to, Maeve understood. When he finished, her hand spread out to slip between the buttons of his wet shirt. His breath sucked in when she placed her palm flat against his chest, over where his heart beat faster for her.

“The vampire who bought me was named Byron,” she whispered, and he listened as she revealed the torture and torment she had withstood.

He drew her closer, holding her against him in an attempt to shelter her from the memories, but there was no sheltering her from what she’d suffered. “I wanted to hate them all for what happened to me,” she said at the end.

“So did I,” he admitted. “But humans had a hand in it too. Some of our own kind turned their backs on us long ago and allowed the vampires to become what they were.”

“I know, but in the beginning, I hated everyone.”

“Me too.”

She lifted her head from his chest. Her hand rested against his cheek as she rose up to kiss him once more.