Max was stretched on the futon, his long legs hanging over the end. His arms were folded behind his head and he was grinning.
She wanted to slap him. And sink her teeth into his bicep. This was not an uncommon reaction to Max.
“What are you doing here?”
“How was your trip, darling?” His smug smile never wavered.
“How did you find this place?” She took off her coat and very pointedly did not remove her weapons.
Max swung his legs over the edge and stood in one smooth movement. He was astonishingly graceful for a large man, and it drove her crazy to watch him move. Watching him fight was even more of a turn-on. He knew it and he used it.
Which also drove her crazy.
“You told me I’d never find your home,” he said. “You can’t say things like that and not expect me to search for you.”
Her secrets were not only about pride. The haven where her community of sisters lived was not that far away. Yes, it was hidden in a valley farther north and guarded by old and powerful magic, but even being in the same country felt too close. Too intrusive. Not unlike Max.
“This thing we have,” she said quietly. “It is not a relationship.”
“The hell it isn’t.” His smile died. “You can tell yourself that if it makes you feel better, but we both know the truth.”
“It’s not a relationship,” she said. “And it’ll stop being anything at all unless you back off.”
His eyes flashed. “I can see you didn’t kill quite enough Grigori on this hunting trip. Need to burn off some energy?”
“Fuck off.” She unstrapped her weapons and hung them in the entryway before she locked the deadbolts on her door and set the alarm. How the hell had he broken in? She’d stopped trying to figure out how Max did anything a few years before. He had skills and contacts she didn’t know about, and she refused to ask. Asking only made whatever this was feel more real. More intimate. More permanent.
It wasn’t. Her reshon was dead. She wasn’t looking for a mate. Max could never compare to Balien.
But Renata knew part of her anger stemmed from the gratitude she felt seeing him. She was tired. Worn out. And part of her was happy to not walk into an empty flat. She wasn’t going to tell him that.
She slept with Max because he was a skilled lover, and Renata knew both of them needed some level of connection. She even considered him a friend. But that was all. That was all it was ever going to be.
She went to the kitchen and filled the electric kettle. She’d flown into Bergen from Aberdeen and hadn’t even bothered to get her car from long-term parking. She was too tired. She’d taken a cab to her apartment and spent most of the short drive home thinking about her bed.
And possibly thinking about a strong pair of arms to hold her, but the last she’d heard, Max had been in Istanbul.
She didn’t go there. He wasn’t supposed to come here. Those were the rules, and he’d broken them.
Renata felt him come into the kitchen. Max’s energy was unmistakable, and her betraying body responded. She braced her hand on the counter when he came behind her. Without a word, he brushed her long hair away from her neck and started kissing her. She angled her head to the side and let the tension and manic energy drain from her body into his. He licked and scraped his teeth against her skin, sucking on the spot that sent her pulse racing. His arms came around her, one heavy hand palming her breast as the other went low on her belly and pressed her body into his. She felt his arousal as he unbuckled her belt.
“Let me,” he whispered. “You need it.”
She nodded wordlessly, and his hand slid beneath her panties. She gasped and clutched the edge of the counter when his fingers found her wet and swollen.
“Fast now.” He bit her neck and squeezed her breast. “Slow later.”
“Yes.”
He brought her to mind-shattering orgasm before the kettle boiled.
Max turned Renata around when she could barely stand. His kiss was long and lazy. “Go lie down,” he said. “Get out of those clothes, and I’ll make the tea.”
She nodded and did what he said. If she was less exhausted, she’d be more angry at his high-handed orders, but she simply didn’t have it in her. She was emotionally and physically wrung out.
She went to the bedroom and shut the heavy drapes, dropping her clothes on the floor before she tumbled into bed and let her eyes close.
Safe. When Max was with her, she knew she’d be able to sleep. Knew that if the monsters came knocking, he could kill them even faster than she could.
She didn’t tell him that either.
A few minutes later, he brought a cup of tea in and set it on the bedside table. He stripped off his shirt and pants. His boxers were tossed on top of her clothes. Then he drew back the sheet and slid into bed beside her.
“Come here,” Max said, hooking her leg over his hip. He was already hard when he kissed her. She could feel the length of him pressing against her. She was half-asleep, but she wanted him. She wanted to fall asleep with his weight on her.
“Fuck me,” she murmured, guiding him into her body. She let out a groan of relief when his hips bucked against hers. He was seated to the hilt, his muscled arms caging her in, his massive shoulders blocking everything from her sight except him. Only Max.
“I’m not fucking you,” he whispered in her ear. He moved in steady rhythm, and his weight pressed her into the bed. “That’s not what this is.”
She didn’t argue. He was going to make her come again. She hovered on the edge.
“You know what this is,” Max said. “You know what we are.”
She cried out when she orgasmed and let the tears come when he finally groaned his own release and lowered himself beside her. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and didn’t say a word when he tucked his face into her neck. Max’s arm fell over her torso, and he let out a long breath.
“Sleep,” he whispered. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
They wouldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to end it even though she knew she should. No matter how many Grigori she killed, she still felt dead inside. She was hollow, and she needed him too much.
Cardiff, Wales
2010
She picked up her phone on the second ring, but all she heard was silence.
“Max?”
There was nothing but ragged breath on the other end of the line.
“Max, what’s wrong?” Renata stood, leaving the table where a map of the city was spread out. She ignored the confused stares of her companions. She was working on a job with two Irina from North Wales, hoping to exterminate a nest of Grigori that was running a hostel in the mountains where young women were going missing.
She walked out of the room and up the stairs of the narrow house they’d rented. “I’m alone. What’s going on? Where are you?”
“I’m not hurt.” His voice was rough. “I just… I needed to hear your voice.”
“Where are you?”
“It’s not important,” he whispered. “Are you safe?”