10. Chapter ten
Chapter ten
Max
I kissed him. I fucking kissed him.
I kissed him until our lips were raw, until the first orange streaks of sunrise bled into the sky. Until his eyelids drooped heavily and he swayed against me, about to topple sideways, my grip the only thing keeping him upright.
I had to half-carry his stubborn ass inside, each step clumsy with exhaustion, and drop him onto his bed like he weighed nothing.
Where I stayed. Where I held him. Kissed him some more. Tangled my fingers in those stupid curls until his breathing evened out, and he finally slipped under.
And then I just lay there, staring like a fucking idiot.
Watching the rise and fall of his chest, the twitch of his lashes, and the way his mouth stayed parted like he might kiss me again, even in his sleep.
I watched until my eyes burned, until they wouldn’t stay open anymore, and when they finally shut, I was still right there beside him.
We slept through the morning and well into the afternoon. When we finally woke, I still didn’t leave. I couldn’t . I didn’t want to.
That night, after we spent the day talking, kissing, and resting, I didn’t crawl into that shitty chair across the room like I should have either. No, I stayed. In his bed.
After that, the days blurred once I was back on patrol. We worked, we investigated, we trained. And every fucking night I told myself to stay away—to quit showing up, to quit kissing him like I couldn’t breathe without it.
What he doesn’t know is that he’s the first fucking person I’ve kissed.
Yeah, I’ve fucked before. But that was different.
Clinical. Transactional. Just another way to bleed off adrenaline after a fight in the Pit.
The first time I ever gave in to one of the endless advances thrown my way was because Tass teased me into it.
Her voice in my ear after one too many drinks, saying it might take the edge off, might make me a little less cranky, maybe even a bit nicer to the world.
Spoiler: it didn’t.
It was the same with Noura, who I saw more than once, usually when she came looking for me. Mechanical. Distracting. Right up until the moment she wanted something I couldn’t give her.
It was never like this. Not even close.
There were no heightened shivers running under my skin, no lingering touches that made me ache for more, no soft gasps that echoed in my head long after. No deep gazes pinning me down like he did, holding me open without even trying.
No weird-as-fuck twist in my stomach, like a knot pulling tighter every time he looked at me, every time his mouth met mine.
And definitely no earth-wrecking blue eyes staring at me with so much fucking longing, so much lust, and that other L-word creeping in at the edges. The one that makes my chest seize until I swear my heart fucking constricts.
Not that I know the first thing about love. But I don’t have any other explanation for it.
I could never have someone that pure. He’s got bite, for sure, and can tear me a new one when he wants, but at his core he’s sweet, and kind, the type who fucking lives for helping people.
He lives to heal. He was made to love.
I live for destruction. I was made to obliterate.
Not that any of it keeps me away. Not that it stops me from showing up on his balcony every day for the last week after I swore to myself I’d go home instead.
Lighting up a smoke, pretending it’s casual.
Him coming out to sit next to me like he was waiting for it all along, hand slipping onto my thigh, those ocean eyes cutting through me.
Why me? they say. Why trust me? Why let me close when you don’t let anyone else in?
And before I can even think of an answer, I cave. Every single time.
I lean in, he leans up, and the world narrows to that one point where our mouths meet.
His lips soft, insistent, pulling more out of me than I mean to give.
My hand’s always finding his jaw, his curls, the back of his neck—anywhere I can hold him closer.
His gasps spill into me like they’re a gift, his moans running straight down my spine and setting me on fire.
Always kissing. Nothing more. Just that edge, just the promise.
I want there to be more. Gods, I ache for it.
But I need him safe. I need him whole. And wanting both—wanting him and his safety—feels like it’s going to tear me apart.
Because I’m not safe. Far from it. I’m the monster in the dark, the one people whisper about, the word he himself spat at me. And he wasn’t wrong.
He’s my morality, the key to my humanity.
Without him, I’d burn it all down just to watch the flames dance.
There’s something he ignites within me, something fragile, almost vulnerable.
A whisper in the chaos, grounding me when everything else screams for destruction.
He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s the line I can’t cross.
The edge of sanity I desperately cling to.
Without him, I’m nothing but a monster unleashed; with him, I’m still a monster, but one that can pretend, just for a moment, to be human.
But I can’t. I can’t cross that line yet. Even though I see the plea in his eyes every night. Take me. Have me. Own me.
I want to answer, want it so fucking bad, but I know what I am… and the monster I am can never have something that good.
So tonight I force myself to stay away. I wait until he’s asleep and drag myself into that damned chair across the room. I smoke and I watch him, his face slack and soft in the shadows. I watch until the moon climbs high, and the Ashleaf burns bitter in my lungs.
Right until the three-tone whistle snaps me out of it, the reason I’m still awake.
Tass .
I crack my head toward the sound, grind out the cigarette, and get to my feet. One last look at Kieran—his hair spilling over the pillow, his hand curled in the sheets on the other side of the bed like he’s holding onto me even in sleep—then I move.
Sami’s already on the balcony to take over watch on my Kieran like I told him to, a weathered novel in his hand.
I greet him with nothing more than a nod, because words feel too heavy in my throat right now.
I’m not that good at leaving Kieran alone.
Even though he’s doing well in training, even though he’s tougher than he looks.
That guy at the bar… there was something off about him. Vile, foul, rotten all the way through. Kieran told me exactly who he was, and I know he’s still out there. Lurking. Waiting for his time. And I’m not taking any chances.
Sami drops into the chair, settling in for the watch while I go.
I jump easily over the balcony, scale down the wall in practiced silence, boots hitting the earth lightly.
My ribs still ache, but they’re bruises, mostly.
They didn’t break anything. Yes, Noura had Watchers going at me, but they know me.
They had the fear of death in their eyes when they worked me over.
As if they knew if they fucked me up too bad, I’d come for them. Which I would’ve and gladly reminded them of. Their fear of me is still greater than their fear of the Council.
I keep to the shadows, moving north beneath the wall until the narrow stairs carved into the stone come into view. A Watcher leans on his spear at the base, greets us with a curt nod.
“Sergeant Skarlatos.”
No questions. No hesitation. He doesn’t ask where I’m going or why, just lets me pass him. That’s how I know fear still works better than loyalty.
Once I’m on the wall, Tass falls into step beside me, grin already tugging at her mouth. “Hey there, loverboy.”
I roll my eyes hard, and fish out one of my smokes, sparking it to life.
“Are you ever going to stop with those?” she teases. “I heard they can kill you.”
I snort, smoke curling from my lips. “There are a lot of things that can kill us. I think smoking’s the least of our concerns.”
“Touché.” She clicks her tongue, then bumps her shoulder into mine. “So. Finally able to drag yourself away from your other addiction?”
“He’s not my anything.” The lie is sharp on my tongue.
Her answering cackle echoes over the trees. “Right. You like him. Shit, you watch him like he’s the last star in the sky. Like if you blink, he’ll burn out and be gone.”
I don’t answer. Just smoke, letting the bitter taste ground me while she babbles on like she always does.
“No… it’s not that you like him.” Her tone shifts, softer, cutting closer. “I think you love him.”
I kinda want to push her off the wall.
My glare cuts sideways, but she just hops up onto the ledge, arms spread wide, defying the drop below like it’s nothing.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, steady as ever, not even glancing my way. “I can feel that stupid glare on me. You think loving someone is a bad thing. It’s not. It can be something beautiful. I love you, you know.”
I blink. The smoke catches in my throat and I cough, tears pricking in my eyes. “What?”
“Oh gods, you idiot.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Not like that. You’re like my… big brother. I know you’d have my back. Defend my honor if needed.”
More smoke pours out of me as I scoff. “You don’t need me to defend your honor, Tass. You’d rip the balls off any man stupid enough to try anything with you, hang ’em on a line like laundry, and make him thank you for the privilege.”
She grins sharp, teeth flashing in the moonlight as she hops off the ledge and bumps my shoulder. “Still. You have my back.”
“You know I do, Tass.”
And I do something I’ve never done before—I sling an arm around her strong shoulders and tug her in close, just for a second, before I let go and take another quick drag.
Damn Kieran for making me soft.
She halts mid-step, tilts her head up at me, those sharp slanted eyes catching the moonlight. Surprise flickers there, quick, then something warmer, softer, something I don’t usually see in her. She gives a little nod, her lips twitching like she’s fighting a smile.
“Good,” she says finally, voice low. “I’d kick your ass if you wouldn’t.”