Valentine Shepherd: Retribution Part 19

She looked at Toby, still cradled in Max's arms. "Does he need to go outside or something?"

"In a bit." Max put Toby down. "Don't pee in here," he told the dog.

"That's all it takes?"

"Yup."

She snickered. "He is your dog."

Max stepped farther into Val's house, walking to the photo of Robby he'd looked at the last time he was there. Max's half brother posed on a tropical beach somewhere, a drink in his hand and a toothy grin on his face. He wondered what would've happened if Robby hadn't died, if Robby and Val had married, if Max somehow found out about their shared paternity and struck up a friendship with him. Would he still have fallen in love with Val, quietly pining for a woman he couldn't have? Would she have secretly loved him, too?

Did somebody really kill Robby so Max and Val would be together? He didn't want it to be true, but if he was being honest with himself, he preferred it to the alternative. Something a terrible person would think.

He ripped his eyes from the picture as another wave of nausea crept up from his stomach. His legs felt weak, and he lowered himself into a sitting position on Val's couch. He closed his eyes and concentrated on not throwing up.

He heard Val ask from the kitchen, "Do you want me to get you some Suboxone?"

Michael must've told her about the pills, not that it wasn't hard to guess. He wished she didn't have to see him like this, but Suboxone would only drag things out. Best to get the withdrawal over with as soon as possible. Max wiped sweat from his upper lip. "Nah, I'll be fine. But thanks for the offer."

"Do you want some water?"

"I'll take that."

With his eyes still closed, he heard water pour into a gla.s.s.

"I kept telling myself I'd kick it tomorrow," he said. The water turned off. "Always tomorrow. I did it once with heroin, years ago, and I thought I could do it again. But I'd always find some excuse not to: that I wasn't ready for Abby to know, that I had to prepare for the withdrawal, that everybody liked me better when I was high, and a bunch of other bulls.h.i.t. The truth is, since you changed my future, I wondered if that meant I could die. Without the drugs, I worried I might find a gun, put the barrel in my mouth, and pull the trigger again, to see if it would finally work."

The nausea pa.s.sed, and he opened his eyes. The room came into focus again, a collage of subdued blues and charcoals Max guessed were by Robby's design; the colors didn't seem Val's style. Toby laid with his head on Max's shoe. Max scratched him behind the ears, then stood. He walked around the couch to where Val waited with a gla.s.s of water. Her tear-rimmed eyes reminded him of rain about to fall from dark, roiling storm clouds.

"Some people might call me an alcoholic," she said. She held the gla.s.s out to him. "You're not alone. You never were."

She'd suffered more than he thought-a lot more. They both had. He took the water with one hand, but held her outstretched arm in place with the other. Setting the gla.s.s down on the kitchen counter, he brought her hand to his face and kissed the inside of her wrist. He thought he could feel her heartbeat with his lips, her pulse quickening underneath the delicate flesh. Her fingers brushed against his cheek, then threaded through the hair at the back of his neck. She pulled him to her.

They embraced, not only as lost lovers but as two halves of a whole who'd been desperate to return to each other. He kissed the spot on her neck he'd coveted in the car, even warmer and softer than he'd imagined. The smell of apples wafted from her hair, and he pictured them standing alone together in a huge, beautiful orchard, under a clear blue sky. He'd never felt more comfortable, more at home, than in that moment, holding her. He made a slow trail of kisses up her neck, stopping at her ear. He let out a long exhale, and with it went his worries, fears, and pain. His body slackened, and it was only with great effort he kept himself from collapsing into her arms.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear. He should have said it a long time ago. He'd told Abby he loved her because she said it first, and he'd responded in kind because it was what she wanted to hear, and what he wanted to believe. He told Val because he couldn't not say it anymore. "I've always loved you."

"I love you, too," she whispered back. Though she'd already told him, it still made him smile to hear it again, proof that he hadn't been dreaming or hallucinating. If he could've bottled that moment in time, he would've done so.

The sound of someone opening and closing the front door broke the spell. He looked up and saw Val's roommate at the threshold of the living room, glaring at them. Max had only met her once before; her reception of him on that occasion had been chilly, to say the least. He wasn't sure why she disliked him so much; probably thought he was a bad influence, which was basically true.

Val pulled away from him and turned to face her roommate. "Hey, Stacey. Um, you remember Max?"

He tried to smile warmly. She did not reciprocate.

"Yeah, I remember Max-from the news reports that say he beat the s.h.i.t out of someone at the Seattle Art Museum a few days ago, then got committed to a mental hospital."

Val's lips tightened and she sighed. "He'll be staying with us for a little while."

"And you couldn't tell me this before now because..."

"You haven't been returning my phone calls."

"If you'd been home for more than three minutes in the last four days, you could've told me to my face."

Toby barked from where he'd made himself comfortable on the couch. He wanted this fight to end as much as Max did.

Stacey gave the dog the side-eye. "How long?"

"I don't know."

She scoffed. "Fantastic. Maybe we can use his rent money to pay some of the bills that're piling up." She marched into the kitchen, threw open the refrigerator door, and began pulling vegetables out.

"What are you doing?" Val asked.

She slammed an onion on the counter. "It's taco night. I'm making tacos."

Val took Max's hand. "I'm going to show Max the second floor. We'll be down in a minute to help."

Stacey waved them away. "Sure. Whatever."

Val pulled him out of the living room.

"Toby, stay here," Max said before they ascended the staircase. Toby whined, but stayed on the couch.

Max followed Val into her bedroom. He hadn't spared a moment to look around the last time he was there. He'd been too distracted by his bizarre Blue Serpent experience and the possibility he might've cheated on Abby, and his conflicted feelings when Val told him nothing had happened between them. Evening sunshine glinted off pictures of brightly colored birds mounted on the walls, gorgeous drawing that looked like they might at any moment erupt from the gla.s.s and flit about the room. Many hung crooked; jostled, then ignored. He wondered where she'd gotten them, then guessed they'd been Robby's, too. A couple of half-spent candles sat on a chest of drawers, next to a photo of a teenage girl with Val's hair but paler blue eyes-her sister. He recognized a bottle of over-the-counter sleeping aid pills on her nightstand.

Val picked up some stray clothes tossed on her bedspread and threw them in the corner. She crooked her thumb at an adjacent door. "That's the master bathroom. Stacey's bedroom is at the end of the hall, just so you know."

"I'm sorry if I'm imposing on her. I can stay in a hotel-"

"No." Val grabbed his arm as if she was afraid he might try to flee, which was exactly the last thing he'd do. "I like you here."

Max took her other hand in his and laced their fingers together. "If you say so." He kissed the back of her entwined hand, and she blushed.

"She said something about bills. Do you need money?" He would pay her entire mortgage and all her bills on the spot if she'd asked him to, yet she hadn't mentioned her finances at all.

Val rolled her eyes. "Stacey's just being a drama queen. We've hit kind of a rough patch recently, but we'll get through it. I hope. It's complicated. You know how lifelong friendships can be."

"No, actually, I don't know. I haven't had any of those."

Val rolled her eyes. "Oh my G.o.d, Max. You don't have to admit to being such a sad sack, you know." He chuckled, and she bit her lip, looking suddenly anxious. "Can I-can I tell her what you can do? That you're like me? I think it would help her understand why we're together."

Max looked away for a moment in thought. He'd just told Michael about their ability because, he'd realized, if you loved someone, then you gave them the truth. If Val truly loved Stacey and trusted her friend to keep a secret, then he didn't have a problem bringing Stacey into the fold.

"I think that's what brought us together," Max said, "but I don't think that's why we're together. You understand me better than anyone else in the world, but I would have loved you whether or not we shared the same ability. Because what I love about you has nothing to do with that."

Val's lips parted and her eyes grew wet as she stared at him-mooning, it was called. He didn't normally like it when people did that to him, but he soaked it up when it came from Val. In fact, he felt himself doing the same to her.

"But yes," he finished, "you can tell her."

They stared at each other for a moment. His skin grew hot, and he felt himself hardening.

Val exhaled. "Thank you. Well, I'd better try to broker a peace and help with taco night."

She began to pull away from him, but he gently held her in place. "Wait."

He drew her flush to him. Where did he begin? He felt as if he'd been starving for months and was suddenly presented a cornucopia of everything he'd ever wanted. He needed one kiss. Just one. Max leaned into her, and she rose to meet him. He kissed her lightly at first, only a brushing of his lips against hers, like touching the petals of a flower. Then he kissed her again, deeper, harder, caressing her tongue with his, feeling the arch of her back through her clothes. His flesh caught on fire, and he realized not only did he love her completely, but he also wanted to f.u.c.k her more than he wanted to breathe.

Her hands slipped underneath his T-shirt, explored his abs, and glided up to his pecs. He yanked the shirt over his head and flung it away. Her top came off just as quickly; the bra underneath unlatched and tossed to the side so their bare chests touched. She wove her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer, as close as they could get to each other. He ran his lips up and down her neck, licking the salt off her skin, drinking in the tiny pearls of sweat that bloomed with his touch.

She let out a breathy moan, the one that gained in pitch when she liked the way he touched her, the sound he'd been waiting for. "I missed you," she said.

He couldn't stand it any longer. Max swept her into his arms and dropped her on the bed. She laughed as she bounced against the mattress, her face flush, lips red and moist. He popped off her shoes, then slipped her pants and panties down her legs in one handful until she lay naked before him-a king's feast, just for him.

He kissed her ankles first. Smooth skin over hard bone turned to smooth skin over soft flesh as he ran his tongue up her leg, followed by his hands. He wanted to taste her everywhere, feel her everywhere. He'd done it before, in the boathouse all those months ago, but having experienced it once only made him want her more. When he reached her thighs, she breathed harder, and when he tasted her, she gasped. Every woman had a unique flavor, and he'd sampled many; it was an easy way to get them off while prolonging his own awkward or fake climax. But Val's taste was exquisite, a bouquet of everything he enjoyed about s.e.x, everything that made the act good. It was her essence and he couldn't get enough. She writhed and moaned as he lapped it up with relish, losing himself in her, until she grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him up.

"G.o.d, stop," she said, nearly out of breath. "I can't have you like that."

She seized his bottom lip with her teeth while she pawed at the b.u.t.ton on his jeans. Max helped her with the zipper, then kicked off his pants and underwear. Finally they lay skin to skin, her legs wrapped around him, his arms around her. Her hands explored every inch of his torso as if she'd never touched him before. Maybe she was getting herself reacquainted, or maybe she felt what he felt-a desperate need to know, to feel, the good and the bad.

Her hand slipped between his legs, fingers skimming down the hard length of him. He trembled and pulled back. He'd only wanted a kiss. After everything that'd happened to her in the last few weeks, he didn't want to rush things or pressure her into doing anything she wasn't ready for. And her visions could be terrible, traumatic. Yet he was the one who trembled, about to lose control.

His c.o.c.k pressed against her wetness as she stroked him, each caress a pump of pressure to his system. With her other hand she ran a finger along the outside of his ear.

"Max," she whispered. "I love you so much."

Before he could stop himself, he entered her hard. He cried out with her, the feeling so divine it took all his willpower not to come immediately. Every thrust was ecstasy times a thousand, tiny explosions of heaven that resonated through him and pa.s.sed into her. She moved with him, breathed with him, and looked into his eyes, his soul, as he gazed into hers. They were the only two people in the world.

The fire in him reached a fevered pitch. His whole body vibrated, inside and out. It seemed like they'd only just begun, yet already he felt the numbers coming. Usually he had stamina in spades, but they'd been apart too long. Max forced the mad rush of his hips to slow, then stop. He searched her eyes, wet and awash in raw emotion. A tear slipped from the corner of her lashes and leaked down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said.

Val cradled his head in her hands. "You won't. You can't." She kissed him gently. "Come with me."

Max pulled her hips up until her chest arched into his and she threw her head back, her body a reed bending into his storm. He moved deeper into her, harder, faster as she clawed at his back, her moans louder, higher.

"I love you," he said between kisses. "I love you. I love you."

He possessed her body, consumed it with his own, but his soul belonged to her. When she screamed as she came, he let loose a roar of his own as the tentacles of the greatest pleasure he'd ever known seized his mind and pulled him away so they collapsed into each other's arms.

Chapter Twenty-four.

I'm running down a corridor of concrete inlaid with metal doors. As I reach a corner, I slow and raise my gun. My heart pounds against my rib cage. I wheel around the corner and recognize Lucien's back in a white lab coat, scrambling away from me. I shoot him in the back. He drops. I close the distance between us, and only then do I realize there's someone else with him, a man he'd been forcing forward, now in a crumpled heap next to Lucien. That man is Max.

My bullet went through Lucien and hit Max. He's dead. I killed him. Oh G.o.d he's dead, he's dead, he's dead- Blur.

I'm running down a corridor of concrete inlaid with metal doors. As I reach a corner, I slow and raise my gun. My heart pounds against my rib cage. I wheel around the corner and recognize Lucien's back in a white lab coat, scrambling away from me. I almost shoot him before I realize he's dragging someone with him, and that person is Max.

"Stop!" I say.

Lucien spins to face me, holding Max in front of him as a human shield. Max thrashes and tries to fight back, but he's pale and sweaty, his movements weak. He looks like he can barely stand. Lucien holds a syringe of mysterious liquid to Max's throat.

"You're going to let me leave," he says.

From behind me the sound of police sirens wafts through the corridor, getting louder.

"Let him go." There's steel in my voice. I'm not negotiating.

"I let him go when I'm gone. Then you may claim him and make your babies."

I know he's lying. He won't let Max go. He takes a step back; I shoot him. I'm usually a good shot. But not today. The bullet strikes Max in the head, pa.s.ses through his skull and hits Lucien. Both men crumple to the ground.

Max is dead. I killed him. Oh G.o.d he's dead, he's dead, he's dead- Blur.

I'm running down a corridor of concrete inlaid with metal doors. As I reach a corner, I slow and raise my gun. My heart pounds against my rib cage. I wheel around the corner and recognize Lucien's back in a white lab coat, scrambling away from me. I almost shoot him before I realize he's dragging someone with him, and that person is Max.

"Stop!" I say.

Lucien spins to face me, holding Max in front of him as a human shield. Max thrashes and tries to fight back, but he's pale and sweaty, his movements weak. He looks like he can barely stand. Lucien holds a syringe of mysterious liquid to Max's throat.

"You're going to let me leave," he says.

From behind me the sound of police sirens wafts through the corridor, getting louder.

"Let him go." There's steel in my voice. I'm not negotiating.

"I let him go when I'm gone. Then you may claim him and make your babies."

I know he's lying. He won't let Max go. He takes a step back; I shoot the wall next to him, blowing chunks of concrete onto his feet. In the moment of confusion I've bought myself, I sprint straight at him, betting I can reach him before he can stick Max with whatever he's got in the syringe.

I bet wrong. The needle goes into Max's neck; the plunger goes down. Half a second later, I scream and body-check Lucien away, then shoot him in the chest three times. That's all the attention I give to Lucien.

On the floor Max grasps at his neck. I cradle his head in my arms, paralyzed with fear. His lips move; nothing comes out. He can't breathe. The light in his eyes fades until he's staring at nothing.

Max is dead. I killed him. Oh G.o.d he's dead, he's dead, he's dead- Blur.

I run along a path through a tropical forest. Max runs in front of me, barefoot, wearing only board shorts. I'm barefoot, too, in a bikini. I hear a roar through the trees. We burst from the forest, into a clearing at the edge of a cliff. Water cascades down the side into a crystal blue pool fifty feet below us. My stomach lurches as I consider the drop.

"You can't chicken out now," Max says, panting from our run. He takes my hand. He wears a wedding ring. I have one, too. "Come on," he says. "On three: one, two, THREE!"

We sprint off the side of the cliff, screaming as we fall, hand-in-hand, until the cool water envelopes us.