Chapter 9
NINE
MAX
Oh. Oh.
“Share a heat? As in… have sex? Knotting sex?” I squeaked. Fucking hell, I sounded like a middle schooler being told about my changing body for the first time.
“Yes, that would be involved.” He didn’t sound much better. He cleared his throat, and I swore the very tops of his cheeks, just visible in the cut out of the mask, turned red.
Was he thinking about it? Right now?
Was he imagining the way we’d fit together, with his big, thick cock stuffed right up to my breeding gland until we were as close as two people could be? Would his knot stimulate my prostate when it grew, locking us together so I could come over and over while he rocked us together?
What would it feel like to be intimate with a predator like him? I imagined myself splayed out beneath him, neck bared with his teeth at my throat while he rolled his hips into mine, thrusting in, and out… in, and out…
He could do anything he wanted to me. Anything at all.
And yet, his eyes were full of the desperate need to give me pleasure, not pain.
Those hands, coated in the blood of society’s worst, would worship me; they’d cradle my waist and pull me into him so I took him deeper.
They’d wrap around my cock and bring me to release alongside him, before sinking his teeth into my neck and tying us together forever because we were mates.
Mates, mates, mates…
Oh, God.
I shook my head. “No,” I croaked. The degree to which I wanted and feared that reality swirled together in my head, knocking me off kilter.
He was a stranger. A murdering stranger. “No,” I repeated. “That’s—we can’t.”
“Max, please. I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t—”
“But I don’t even know you,” I interrupted. “Besides, I don’t have heats anymore, remember?”
They were stolen from me before I even had the chance to share one with anyone else. And now he was proposing they’d miraculously return? And that I spend my first with him?
My omega yowled, clawing at me to say yes.
Something base and primal flashed in his eyes, like he heard the call and needed to answer. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, but it wasn’t entirely a fear response.
He hooked an arm around my waist—When did we get so close?—and dropped his covered nose to the scent gland at my neck.
“Are you sure about that?” he whispered, nuzzling his way up to my ear. “Because your scent says something very different, sweetheart. You smell…” He inhaled. “Quite able to have a heat to me.”
I gasped, turning into a puddle of goo at his feet. The condescending nickname melted into something syrupy and sticky-sweet when he said it like that.
My fingers bunched in the folds of his sweatshirt, the hand holding the knife limp at my side. I peered up at him, focus darting between his bright blue eyes.
Say yes, say yes, say yes!
“I—”
A loud knock at my door cut through the moment.
Like a flipped switch, gone was the restrained, almost soft man from the last fifteen minutes. His eyes flicked to the door, and before I knew it, my back was once again pressed to his front with his palm covering my mouth.
“Did you call anyone?” he hissed in my ear.
I shivered, aware of every place our bodies touched. Briefly, I pictured him taking me like this, too. Rough and wild, with his arms wrapped around me to hold me up while he fucked into me from behind.
Dark want shivered in my belly when the hand covering my mouth fell to my soft middle.
“N-no. You took my phone.”
The knocking came again. “Max? Are you home?”
Mr. Marino?
The Masked Man’s shoulders stiffened.
“Shit!” I whispered. “That’s my boss. Please, don’t hurt him. Just leave, and he won’t find you here.”
I wasn’t sure what Mr. Marino would do. He’d always said I was welcome to have guests, but I was pretty certain that didn’t extend to the masked vigilante variety.
Plus, he’d definitely call the cops and create a whole host of issues.
“Does he regularly come over this late?” the Masked Man asked, clearly irritated by the interruption.
And again, what right did he have to be upset? He’d infiltrated our lives.
“No,” I answered, twisting just enough to look at him. “Which means you might not have been as subtle as you think you were climbing in here, Jason Bourne. You need to leave.”
He released me with a soft curse. The knife handle was slick in my sweaty palm, but holding it made me feel better, even if it was just an illusion.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he whispered. “I’ll—”
“Max?” Mr. Marino called again. “Is everything alright?”
“Max!” a smaller voice echoed. “Daddy said we need to check your house for strangers.”
“Oh, no.” A pit formed in my stomach. Absolutely not. “Get out. Now. You’ll scare Enzo.”
He had the audacity to look affronted. “I would never hurt a child.”
“Then you’ll have no problem with leaving,” I said, pushing on his chest to herd him backwards down the hall and away from the door.
He peered around my bedroom. “And where should I go? I won't fit through that window.”
There was enough confidence in his tone to give me pause.
Mr. Marino knocked again, louder this time. “Max? If you don’t answer, I’m going to have to come inside.”
Right. More questions later.
I waved my hands around. “Then hide! I like this job. I won’t forgive you if I get fired because you gave the kid nightmares.”
“That cat is the real nightmare. He’s massive! He nearly took a chunk out of my arm getting in here. Don’t lock me in here with—”
I shut the door in his face. Godspeed.
A few deep breaths later, I opened the front door just as Mr. Marino knocked again.
“Hi,” I said, startling them both. “So sorry it took a minute. Jeffrey doesn’t like company, so I shut him in the bedroom first.”
“Ooooo, Max has a boyfriend named Jeffrey,” Enzo said in a sing-song voice. I wanted to be irritated, but he was way too cute standing there in matching pajamas and clutching his favorite stuffed toy, an octopus he’d gotten at the aquarium.
“No,” I clarified quickly. “Jeffrey is my cat. I don’t lock my boyfriend in the bedroom. Not that I have a boyfriend. Just a cat. No one’s in the bedroom, I swear.”
A loud thump followed by a hiss came from—you guessed it—the bedroom.
They both peered around me in unison.
“Except for Jeffrey. Who is—”
“Your cat,” Mr. Marino finished for me. “Of course. But are you sure everything’s alright? I tried to call, but it kept going to voicemail.” He was still looking over my shoulder.
Fuck, could he see the dent in the wall?
“Yes, everything’s great. And sorry, my phone died. I haven’t charged it yet.” I cleared my throat, hoping my voice would lower back down to a normal octave. “Why?”
“I saw your boyfriend climb into your house during storytime!” Enzo said.
My brows shot into my hairline. Mr. Mission Impossible was never going to hear the end of that. “Oh! Well, no one else is in here, Enz. I’m not sure what you saw.”
“It was a man. He almost fell when your cat jumped on his face, but—”
“Enz,” Mr. Marino interrupted. “Max has said no one’s in his house, so let’s leave it for now. But can I ask why you answered the door holding a knife? Do you feel safe?”
He took a subtle step in front of Enzo.
Fucking. Hell. I was still holding the Masked Man’s knife.
“Uh, sorry. Totally forgot I had that. I was chopping vegetables.” I quickly set it on the side table and tucked my hands behind my back.
Chopping vegetables? With a serial killer knife? Really?
“Uh-huh.” Mr. Marino clearly didn’t believe that, but he seemed reluctant to come inside. Probably because he had Enzo with him.
Honestly, if I thought a burglar was creeping around the estate, I wouldn’t have left him alone in the house, either.
“Well, as long as you’re alright, we’ll leave you to your vegetables.”
“And your boyfriend!” Enzo chimed in, the cheeky little shit.
“Come on, Enz,” Mr. Marino said, picking him up. “Max deserves his privacy. Let’s go finish your story.”
“We’ll have to start over.” Enzo sounded very serious, his words falling quieter as Mr. Marino turned to go back down the steps. “The voices won't be right.”
“Yes, baby. We’ll start over.”
“Sorry to worry you. Thanks for checking on me!” I called after them.
Mr. Marino turned and smiled. While it was rare, he probably opened a lot of doors with that smile. “Of course, Max. If you ever need anything, just call. Have a good night.”
I waved, feeling grimy, and shut the door with a soft click.
The apartment was suspiciously quiet. It probably would’ve been less disconcerting to hear an all-out brawl over who got the spot under the bed, Jeffrey or the Masked Man.
My money was on Jeffrey.
But when I opened my bedroom door, there was no Masked Man. Jeffrey sat alone, perched at the end of my bed, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth.
All the air whooshed out of me like a deflated balloon. Was I actually disappointed that the vigilante stalker had left like I’d asked him to? Several times?
I sat next to Jeffrey. “Did you eat him?” I asked, rubbing his favorite spot between his ears.
He pushed his head into my hand and purred. If the window hadn’t been open, curtains dancing in the nighttime breeze, I might’ve taken that as confirmation he had indeed snaffled up the intruder.
I dug through the nightstand drawer till I found my old pair of glasses—thankfully, the prescription hadn’t changed too much—and powered my phone back on.
Multiple missed calls and texts from Mr. Marino and Gwen—he must’ve called her when he couldn’t get a hold of me—flooded the screen first. Yikes.
That was tomorrow’s problem.
But then I got a text from an unlisted number.
UNKNOWN
Think about it, please.
I bit my cheek again, refusing to acknowledge the burning feeling that rushed through me.
I still have your knife.
The three little dots appeared right away.
Keep it safe for me?
I blushed. My phone chimed with another message.
I’ll be there to patch your wall tomorrow. The glasses may take a few more days.
Sorry again.
You should be. Those were my favorite pair.
…
You’ll get your favorite pair back, sweetheart.