19. Chapter nineteen
Chapter nineteen
Max
I hate waiting. I really do.
Especially when I have no fucking idea what’s going on.
Roe’s still up north and radioed in when we got back home.
He said he’d found a damn goldmine, that he’s got everything he needs to nail that bitch to the wall, but couldn’t go into details over the air.
Makes sense, since you don’t talk on the radio if you don’t have to. You never know who’s listening.
He explained it’s bigger than we thought, and it’ll take a couple of days before they can come back. They’ve got to get their shit in order first and ordered us to hunker down: lay low, don’t go into work, don’t go outside, stay holed up in the apartment.
So that’s exactly what we do.
And I’m hating every second of it.
We’re stuck here, Kieran and me, and I’ve got nothing to do besides reread stupid books, do some training, and, well… have my fucking way with him.
Shit, his body is a bruised, beautiful mess right now because I can’t stay off him; I can’t keep my claws to myself. I need him every time the quiet presses in, every time grief claws at the back of my throat and the memory of Tass pulls me the fuck apart.
He lets me. Of course he lets me. Welcomes it, even. Those big, fuck-me eyes go hazy with lust and roll back in his head when I drive him through the wall, when I claim him and mark him and take everything he has to offer. And Gods help me, I do.
Fuck. I never knew sex could be like this. That it could amplify everything I am and, at the same time, quiet those voices. Calm them. Soothe them. It’s not only me that’s caught in his hold; my beasts are just as trapped, as enamored, by him.
It’s been days since we came back from the mansion, since he found me on the balcony.
When he braved the red rain to get to me.
That’s the other thing I hate right now: my own head. The way it keeps unraveling because I’m going absolutely out of my mind with worry. We don’t know if Kieran’s Touched or not. If he’s doomed the same way Tass was.
Tass …
I killed my best friend. I stabbed a dagger into the side of her skull and felt the life drain out of her as she lay on top of me.
And every time I close my eyes, I see that dark-haired girl with those big green eyes asking me that question that started it all. “ Do you wanna play with me? ”
Six years. Six fucking years. That’s how old she was when she found me. Every day after she dared me, made me run after her. Across rooftops, the Watcher castle, over the wall, in the forest. Always scaling, running, laughing.
But that first day we found a Walker when we darted through the forest, and we killed it together. Unlike the other kids at the orphanage, she didn’t scream, she didn’t cry, and she wasn’t afraid. She kicked the corpse and laughed in that manic cackle I’d come to know too well.
I knew it right then, even though we were still so young, that she was mine. Fearless, reckless, loyal to a fault. That was Tass. My Tass.
And I killed her.
I know I didn’t pull the trigger on whatever took her; it was the infection that fucked everything. The fucking virus. The same virus that’s now trying to kill Kieran. My Kieran.
I’m not going to let it happen. I won’t let it take him, won’t let it destroy him or rip him away from me. If he changes, if that thing inside him wins, there’s one thing I know: I’ll die with him.
I’d drive a bullet right through my own fucking skull after sending him to the afterlife.
I can’t survive that endless, searing pain again. The darkness that tries to swallow me and almost won, the grief with Tass’s name carved into it. I’m barely holding on as it is, and I won’t do it again.
I can’t.
“See,” Kieran says, holding the little strip out in front of me, pulling me out of my thoughts. It’s a testing strip, like I’ve seen a thousand times. It’s for blood. We know one thing for sure: your blood slowly darkens if you get infected.
If you want a proper, definitive test, you can always go up to the lab up north, or to the medical station here in the city, but Roe’s orders were crystal clear: do not leave your apartment. So we only have these damn strips, scavenged from Tass’s place. A place I can’t bring myself to go into.
I sent Kieran. She lived right below me, and I even made him bring back things of hers that were still here, because it hurts too much to look at them myself: her shoes, those rotten strawberries left in the fridge, scattered clothes, a bottle of nail polish.
She used to be at my place all the time, and the ghost of her lingers here.
He didn’t take the rubber duckies because he likes them too much, and every time I see them, that pang rips through my chest.
Exactly like what happens every time we let a drop of his blood fall on those damn strips.
It still hasn’t darkened. The red square—the same color as the control—blinks back at me. Safe.
“That’s good, right?” His ocean-blue eyes search mine, wide and raw, full of worry, the nerves visible.
I sigh, then pull him close and hold him. “Yeah, I think so, Kee.”
I hope so.
I’ve never been much of a hugger—probably never hugged anyone before—but since I found him soaked from head to toe in red, I’ve been clinging to him like my life depends on it.
Every couple of hours we’ve tested his blood.
So far, nothing. But we won’t know for sure unless we get a proper test at the centre, and we can’t.
Not that it matters, anyway. The amount of rain he had on him…
there’s just no way he isn’t infected, and yet it can take days before it shows in the blood.
I fear the day it shows, because it will show. There’s no denying that.
There’s also no denying I haven’t feared much in my life. But the possibility of losing Kee… it fucking rattles me.
I take a breath, pull him tighter, and sit down on the bed.
Kieran settles on top of me, fingers tangling in my hair as his mouth descends on mine.
It’s early morning after another night of nightmares that ripped me open.
I keep hearing the scrape of my knife when it slid into her skull, that ghastly, half-human wail she made even then.
It still sounded like her.
It’s not only the sounds that keep haunting me, it’s the sight as well.
The way she tilted her head, the way she bled out, the way I held her, lay there for hours clutching my Tass until my tears dried, until my body stopped shaking and I had to let her go.
Let go of the only friend I ever had, let go of the kids we used to be.
A full-body shiver wrecks through me, and I push it down, down, down .
“What?” Kieran asks as he pulls back, cheeks already flushed. We’re half-dressed; I’m in sweatpants and a tank, he’s barely in anything, just a pair of shorts.
“Got any more of that olive oil left?” I ask against his mouth, deflecting like a pro.
It’s like my demon wants him to take the pain away.
The monster inside me is addicted to Kieran.
When I have him, when I make him ours, everything else falls away: the scrape of that knife, the wail, the thrash of her body.
Our Kieran laughs against my mouth, that wicked tongue of his striking my bottom lip. I’m more than happy for the distraction, and open up for him. I want to claim him, devour him.
The itch is still there, crawling under my skin: the hunger to maim, to kill, to let the darkness loose.
But when I have him in my lap it… quiets.
The roar backs off a notch. It’s not as loud, not as demanding, not the all-consuming thing it can be.
Usually, it can only be satisfied by killing.
Driving my sword into flesh and bone until the shadows slide out of me.
It’s different now. Lighter.
He mounts me, pushes closer, and gods, I love the way his skin feels under my palms. I rake my nails down his back and press my face to his shoulder to inhale the smell of him.
When I pull back, his gaze drops to my neck, and his voice goes soft.
“The wound looks better,” he says. I freeze. His eyes go wide. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—I just—”
“It’s okay,” I cut him off. I don’t mind. It’s an ugly mark where she clawed and bit me. A reminder I’ll wear with pride.
“It’s just that—”
A loud bang from the living room cuts him off, followed by footsteps barging in the apartment. Kieran freezes, his head jerking toward the doorway.
“What the—” I scramble, pull Kieran off me and get up. My weapons, where are my weapons?
I scan the room. Shit . Everything’s in the living room. My adrenaline spikes—hot and sharp—and my hands go stupid for a second, like they don’t belong to me.
“Kieran, get behind me before they—” I start, but the fear in his eyes makes me think faster. “Quick, between the headboard and the mattress.”
He dives, fumbles, and comes up with a couple of blades in sheaths, slamming one into my hand as if he’s handing me a lifeline.
As I unsheath mine, I urge Kieran around the bed, away from the hallway door and toward the balcony.
The only possible escape route since there are voices coming from the hall.
First low, then cutting clear: “They must be in the bedroom.” A woman’s voice I know too well.
“Since those stupid swords of his are here, they must be home.”
“ Shit .” My heart rate kicks up a notch and I yank at the balcony door, pulling the rotten wood until it almost splinters free. We’re five stories up, but Tass’s apartment is below ours and it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve scaled it. If I can just drop Kieran first—
I’m too fucking slow.
The other door gets kicked in. My first instinct is to hurl the knife at the nearest man that bursts through, but the world answers with metal. Four barrels trained straight at our heads.
Watchers. My own fucking men.
My hand drops. My heart kicks like it wants to break out of my ribs.