Max shuffled around and began to leave the wing of the compound that housed the living quarters. As he passed through the main room with the—Holy God—Trees that had changed his life forever, he muttered a soft, “Come with me,” to Jericho and Eli where they stood talking. He continued through the room to the medical wing, Jericho and Eli in his wake, following him without question: a move he appreciated.
He paused outside of the closed door of Oliver’s hospital-like room and squinted through the metal checkered pattern of the door window to see Luke sitting beside Oliver’s bedside, staring at the man’s slack face. Oliver was due to wake up in the next few hours, and he was always so disoriented when his eyes first opened. Now those eyes would be opening to a whole new environment. Max knew Oliver could not be alone today. He or Luke needed to be at his side at all times to reassure him when he awoke.
Max sucked in a breath and opened the door, which emitted a soft click. Luke’s head snapped around, and he smiled easily at Max. It looked like he was partially forgiven for ... playing with the angel. But Max’s expression must have been grave, because Luke’s expression sobered.
Luke’s brown eyes flicked over Max’s shoulder to where Jericho and Eli stood. “What’s wrong?” he asked, a small waver to his voice.
That waver caught Max right in his gut, and he realized he hadn’t checked on Luke to see how he was handling all of the recent changes. He needed to step up his caretaking and stop focusing on the angel, who he needed to stay far, far away from anyway. He walked over to Luke’s side and squeezed the man’s shoulder before turning to the other two men.
“Are you aware that an angel in some sort of position of power is ordering Anahita to kill Oliver, Luke, and me?”
Eli and Jericho shared a loaded glance. “Kind of,” Jericho said.
Max raised one eyebrow before he remembered to shake his hair into his face. He turned away from them slightly, showing them his left side and then saying, “Explain.”
“Well, we know that she has a mission to kill you,” Eli said. “We just didn’t know she was under orders from an actual person.” Eli shook his head. “Angel,” he corrected. “I keep forgetting they’re not quite people.”
Max’s jaw went slack. “How on earth can you forget they’re not people?” he asked.
Jericho shrugged. “Jayden seems so normal to us now.”
“Normal,” Max repeated. “The huge man with a robe and wings seems ‘normal.’” He dropped his air quotes and had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.
“Grumpy,” Luke murmured for Max’s ears alone.
Max grunted. Of course he was grumpy. What the hell? Who wouldn’t be grumpy in his position?
“It’s okay,” Eli said softly, and Max was reminded that they would have extraordinary hearing just like he and his guys did thanks to the fruit. Max didn’t have the good sense to be ashamed of his grumpiness. He didn’t have time for good sense right now.
“He didn’t seem normal to us when he was holding us hostage in the medical wing,” Eli continued.
Max’s jaw dropped again. “And you’re friends with this thing?”
Jericho dipped his chin and leveled Max with a no-nonsense look. “Yes.”
The single syllable was a challenge, and everyone in the room knew it. Max held out his hands. “Okay,” he said carefully. “Obviously a sensitive subject. But why are you friends with something that tried to kill you?”
Eli smiled lopsidedly. “For all of his bluster, he’s really just a big softy.”
Max knew this did not merit a reply. He settled for raising one eyebrow, the pull of skin across his forehead reminding him he was displaying his scar. He resisted hiding his face with all of his might.
“An angel around his—or her—Temptation is just about the most conflicted being in existence,” Jericho said, pointedly emphasizing the word her for Max’s benefit, he was sure.
Max grunted, but Jericho was already continuing. “Once Jayden saw Grace, there was no chance he was going to kill us. We knew it, even if he didn’t. It was just a matter of waiting him out until he knew it, too.”
Max opened his mouth to speak, but Eli cut him off. “The real danger is in the Compulsion. Angels have no free will, so if they fall into their Compulsions, they complete their missions blindly. It was the only challenge with Jayden, and as we understand it from him, Anahita has not allowed hers to set yet. She’s no threat.”
Enough. “I disagree with you there,” Max said. “You’re both overconfident. You’ve encountered one angel—one,” he spit out. “To say you know that all angels who encounter their Temptations are no threat is not only naïve, it’s damn ignorant, and it could get my men killed.”
Eli and Jericho leaned forward simultaneously, but before they could speak, Luke said quietly, “I agree with Max.”
All three of their heads snapped to Luke’s direction. Max tried to hide his surprise.
“You think Anahita’s a threat?” Eli asked with both brows launching into his hairline. “The creature you’ve been following around like a puppy dog since we arrived?”
“Hey, now,” Max said, not sure exactly what he was protesting.
“I agree that you don’t have enough intel to judge this situation correctly,” Luke said, his eyes darting to Max’s in what could be described as a guilty move.
Tense silence filled the room. Finally, Jericho sighed. “So, it’s two against two in the angel-threat area.”
“Three against two,” Max corrected.
“Oliver’s still out,” Eli said. Max had fully disclosed the man’s situation, and both Jericho and Eli knew what a soft spot Oliver’s condition was.
“He’s with us,” Max said firmly. “Trust me.”
Luke nodded his agreement.
Eli blew out all of his air through pursed lips. “Hell, what a clusterfuck.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Max said. “Luke here,” he clapped the man on the back—perhaps a little too roughly, “is the best at collecting intel. And he and the angel already seem to have a ... friendship of sorts in the works.” And that did not bother Max at all. Fuck no.
And because they’d been imprisoned together for so long and knew each other so well, Luke picked up Max’s train of thought right where he left off. “I can find out about this other angel,” he said, straightening with the excitement of a new plan of action. “Put feelers out as to her intentions and this other guy’s intentions. Then, and only then, will I feel comfortable deciding Anahita’s not a threat.”
Max wanted to take it all back. When he’d developed this plan for Luke to talk to the angel, he hadn’t fully comprehended that Luke was going to have to talk to the angel. Spend time with her. Alone.
A cold sweat broke out along Max’s spine. He had yet to look in a mirror, but he knew there was no contest in the looks department between them. Though Luke had the kind of talent that allowed him to disappear into the walls and keep women from noticing him, if one ever got close enough and Luke let his guard down, they would discover that the red-haired man was freaking attractive in this obnoxious I’ll-always-protect-you way that Max just couldn’t manage himself. Not even when he had been handsome. Max was the kind of man who put women on edge, and now, with a scar carving up his features, he was the kind of man who repulsed them.
This was a bad idea. Bad, bad, bad. The word pounded through Max’s skull, but just as he opened his mouth to call it all off, Eli beat him to the punch.
“That’s not a bad plan,” he said begrudgingly. He looked at Jericho who nodded his agreement. “But we cannot,” Eli continued, returning his attention to Luke and Max, “under any circumstances, let Jayden know. To say he would be ... peeved ... is an understatement.”
“I thought you said he was not a threat,” Max said.
“Not to us,” Eli said with an apologetic smile that only tipped one corner of his lips.
Jericho turned toward the door, but then turned back just as quickly. “You sh
ould probably know,” he said, looking directly at Max, “that Jayden can read thoughts. Sooo,” he drew the word out, “lusting after the angel he considers a sister in his presence is probably not a good idea.”
Max ran a hand through his hair. “Fucking great.”
“We’re leaving now so we won’t know the plan and Jayden won’t get it from our thoughts, but you should avoid him until we have the information we need since hiding your thoughts takes some practice.” With that final directive, Jericho and Eli exited the room, leaving Max and Luke alone with Oliver.
Luke wasn’t quite meeting Max’s eyes, and Max knew Luke well enough to guess that it had something to do with the angel. Alarm sprang through him instead of just mere annoyance. Just how hung up on the angel was Luke?
Max cleared his throat, which brought Luke’s eyes to his face. Max didn’t try to hide his scar this time, feeling more comfortable with Luke than all of the new faces he’d seen since they’d arrived here at the compound. That he’d ever felt the need to hide it from Luke now seemed laughable. The man had been there from the beginning. Hell, maybe Max should do the right thing and let Luke have a chance at the angel. He deserved it, and he’d be much better to her than Max could be.
Upon having the wayward thought, every fiber of Max’s being rebelled against the idea. Max clapped his lips closed around the She’s mine that threatened to burst from his chest. Instead, he managed a barely civil, “Do we need to talk about something?”
Luke’s eyes shifted to the left, and his unease was palpable. When Luke opened his mouth to speak, Max felt something heavy land in his stomach, because the look on Luke’s face said he definitely wanted to “talk about something,” and Max probably wasn’t going to like it. But it was almost worse when Luke closed his mouth and shook his head, his shaggy red hair swishing around on his forehead. “No, man,” he said in a gravelly voice that rivaled Max’s own. “Nothing we need to talk about.”
Max shook his head. Yeah right.
Luke sighed and ran a hand through his ragged, knotted hair. “Okay, if I’m going to do this talking to the angel thing…” He paused and looked at Max as though asking if he was still sure this was the path he wanted them to take. Max nodded, albeit reluctantly, and Luke continued, “Then I need to get cleaned up. Get back in my game so I’m as nonthreatening as possible. Cut this mop of hair off and shave.”
At this statement, Max’s eyes drifted to the en-suite bathroom at the other side of Oliver’s room. His first shower in years. He desperately wanted one. The thought, though, was damned depressing. He’d get in the shower, get clean, and still come out one ugly son-of-a-bitch. Clean wasn’t going to help him any.
Luke looked at Max fully for the first time since Eli and Jericho left. “Do you want me to cut your hair, too?”
Max had taken two quick steps backward before he caught himself and halted. The abhorrence Max had felt at the suggestion had been swift and surprising. The idea of having his face fully exposed ... He couldn’t prevent the shudder that wracked his body.
Luke’s face fell and blanched simultaneously, and Max felt a new flare of panic that he was so discomposed as to freak his very dear friend out over something as simple as Do you want a haircut?
“Max,” Luke said softly, reaching toward him. “Man, it’s okay. You’re okay now.”
Max shook his head once and felt a muscle tick in his cheek that matched the pressure between his molars. “I’ll never be okay,” he muttered before he could stop himself. At least if he always expected the worst, he’d never be caught off guard again by life’s little fuck-yous. Luke looked as though he wanted to speak again, but Max cut him off. “Go ahead and do your thing. I’ll stay here with Oliver until he wakes up. Maybe I’ll catch a shower.” Try to do something to make myself more presentable.
Luke’s brows drew together in the center, but he nodded and left the room without another word. Max fought down the urge to follow him out into the hall and warn him to remember that Anahita was his.
The silence in the room was oppressive, and Max couldn’t stand still in it for long. With one quick glance at Oliver’s still form on the bed, Max decided it was time to face the music, so to speak.
He walked to the bathroom and turned around immediately upon entering to shut the door so he could avoid the mirror above the sink. As he psyched himself up for his first glimpse of himself since the scar, he turned to the shower stall, opened the glass door, and twisted the knob all the way over to hot.
He listened to the ceramic sound of the water hitting the stall for several moments before he acknowledged that if he waited much longer, the steam from the shower would obscure the mirror, and he wouldn’t get to see himself for a longer stretch of time. And while that thought was tempting, Max didn’t think that he could ratchet up his courage again.
Max let his head hang down as he shuffled around to where the sink was. He walked forward on dead feet, and when he arrived at the sink, he gripped the sides with both hands and leaned forward as some of the strength abandoned his legs. With a shuddering sigh, Max raised his head and met his reflection.
He froze. His breath abandoned him, and stars dotted the horrific vision before him. Steam began to fog the mirror over, but just before Max couldn’t see himself anymore, he caught the sight of a tear tracking down the ravaged skin of the ugliest face Max had ever seen.
He raised a hand to his face and touched the droplet with disbelieving fingertips. He drew it away again and stared in horror at the sign of weakness. Weakness he had promised himself he would never encounter again.
With a snarl, his fist launched forward and shattered the mirror. Glass fell down and splintered further around his bare feet, and without giving the broken shards any thought, Max turned and stalked over them to the shower, shedding his clothes as he went.
Chapter Nine
Gathering my thoughts. Gathering my thoughts.
Anahita sat in her living room and attempted to do not only what she had told Remiel she’d planned on, but what he had ordered her to do. Her thoughts were proving elusive. At least, the thoughts she was supposed to be gathering were proving elusive. Certain other thoughts were proving to be present in abundance.
She ran her fingertips along the fine leather of the sofa on which she sat and tried to allow herself to feel the joy she’d first felt at discovering she was being given her own space to live in. But that joy was long gone.
Max—her brave, wounded, stalwart Max—was going to die, and Anahita was going to deliver the blow. And while that thought appeared in her mind every few seconds, it interrupted a senseless stream of other thoughts that were preventing her from organizing herself and allowing her Compulsion to set.
Namely, how close she’d come to finding out how Max’s lips tasted. She’d been so close to him—had already been able to taste the skin in the hollow of his neck. She’d only needed to tip her head back and press her lips to his. Would she have been allowed to touch them with her tongue to get a better taste of him? Would he have permitted such a thing, or was she depraved?
She wished she knew more about what happened—what was considered normal—between lovers. She had never paid close attention to the humans she’d encountered in such situations because she’d had to be so focused on gaining her Warrior status, such matters had been inconsequential.
Anahita dug her fingertips into the couch and gripped with all of her might as she shoved thoughts of Max and his treacherous lips aside.
Her mission.
Oliver, Luke, Max—who was guiltiest? Who needed to die first? They had all eaten the fruit at the same time and voluntarily—though under heavy pressure—so no seniority ranked one over the other. They had all been imprisoned for the entire duration of their immortality, so none of them had committed certain deeds that would make them more viable as a threat. So, really, it did not seem to matter who died first; they were all equally guilty.
Unfortunately, Anahita was suffering from partial
ity. No Warrior would ever admit to such a thing. Max—of course she would not want to kill her own Temptation. That was the base of their functions: to Tempt angels away from their callings. Luke, however, Anahita liked, which was more than she could say for her cruel Temptation. Luke was sweet. Innocent, but for the grave error of eating of the Tree of Eternal Life. And he had been raised with a healthy respect for the Most High, one that she could not help but admire.
Anahita hung her head and looked at her lap. Why couldn’t Max be more like Luke?
Her head snapped up. Thank God Max was not more like Luke. One word of kindness from Max, one soft touch, and all would be lost.
A knock sounded from the direction of the door, and Anahita looked toward it and frowned before she remembered this was how humans announced a desire to visit one another. What was she supposed to say? “Come in?”
Despite the fact that the words had come out as a question, the door cracked open and a tall, red-haired man with tortoise-shell glasses peeked in.
“Anahita,” he said with a smile. “Hi.”
Anahita narrowed her eyes. Did she know this man? As she looked closer, she noticed his eyes crinkled at the corners behind his glasses, just as—“Luke?” she asked, straightening in her seat.
Luke ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck as he laughed. “Yeah.”
Anahita took him in in amazement. His long, shaggy hair was gone. Now he wore the haircut of a businessman. He was clean shaven, and as he entered the room and shut the door behind him, Anahita could see that he was dressed in slacks and a short-sleeved, collared shirt ... a polo shirt, she thought they were called. He certainly looked different. Would Max have undergone a similar transition? How she longed to see him and see for herself.
“I thought I’d come by and check to see how you’re settling in,” Luke said. Anahita must have been staring at him in silence for quite some time, because Luke shifted from one foot to the other. “Is it alright that I’m here?” he asked.
Of Alliance and Rebellion Page 9