Page 10 of Take

Weak. I’d been so weak. Not strong enough to save her. Then my parents’ wails . . . bile rose in my throat as I remembered my mom’s fists pummeling my chest, screaming and crying hysterically. It had been Holden who pulled her off me.

Max looked up and our eyes met, but I didn’t really see her. It was Beth being tossed in the grave, the dirt carelessly thrown over her while they laughed.

I couldn’t stop them.

I couldn’t save her.

I couldn’t—

The faint click of the gun cocked fifty feet away snapped me out of it. Jesus Christ, I curled my hand around my knife as the anger blanketed the memory.

“You trying to get me killed, girl? Fuck.” I came up behind her and hauled her up underneath her armpits.

Dirt crumbled from her hands. “My blades. I need my blades.”

Shit. I’d seen her put them here often enough and I saw the look in her eyes every time she took them out. It was power. Need. Desperation all rolled into one. She needed them, just like I needed to kill. Fuck, I’d even jerked off to the image of her in the courtyard wielding her blades.

A twig snapped. Then the distinct sound of a heartbeat—one guy.

I crouched then nudged Max in the arm and chin-lifted to the rose bushes on the right. She pulled a box out of the hole then lifted the lid and grabbed her knives. They reminded me of table saw blades, except these had grips on them.

My first impression of Max that day in the bathroom—a sweet, quiet rabbit scared of her own shadow. That lasted about two seconds when I saw the flash of emotion in her eyes, but it came and went like lightning, and then she was cold and detached.

And I didn’t like it. I liked seeing the defiance she tried to keep locked down; that flash of rebellion blazing in the core of her body. But those scars—and Jesus there were a lot of them—made me want to break her wide open and then heal every single one of them with my kisses.

Fuck. I might have to kill this chick. I have to get a fuckin’ grip.

Max leapt to her feet, a blade in each hand, and damn if my cock didn’t harden.

I frowned. “Try and remember you’re a Healer and don’t do anything stupid.” I grabbed her arm and we started running again, although it was more a jog with my leg slowing me down.

Two guys emerged out of the side door and raced after us, bullets flew past, but I noticed they were aimed low, at our legs so as not to kill Max. I yanked her forward trying to get her in front of me so she was protected when I heard her swift inhale. She staggered, her weight pulling me to a stop as she fell to her knees.

Her hand went to her side and came away covered in blood.

“Fuck.” I picked her up in one swoop and dove behind the shed for cover. I put her down then crouched and lifted her t-shirt to look at how bad it was. She couldn’t die. I needed her alive. I tried to convince myself it was because of the payment if I kept her alive, which was much more lucrative than my payment if I was forced to kill her. But I knew it was something else. Something dangerous to feel. Something I didn’t let in because of shit just like this.

The wound was bleeding, but the bullet had nicked her and gone right through. I yanked the shirt down, grabbed her hand and pressed it to her side—hard. I knew it must have fuckin’ hurt, but she didn’t react to it. Actually, she looked calm for a chick who’d just been shot.

“Stay here.” I got to my feet and then took off after the assholes. I enjoyed the odd cat and mouse game, but we’d fucked around too long and I was betting these guys were calling in reinforcements. Humans were an easy kill, vampires a fuck of a lot harder, but from what Adrian had told me, this was one of our own, a Scar who was after Max and he had the ability to Trace. If he traced here before we got the fuck out, I’d be out of a deal and more than likely my life.

I calmed my breathing as I heard them approach. I slipped my gun into my belt and took out my knives. I calmly waited, using my ability to focus on their movements. I took them both out within seconds of one another. Clean. Calm. And only a mild protest from one guy as he went down.

I was good at what I did. That was why I did it. I didn’t give a fuck as to why I was hired for a job. I did what I was paid to do and walked away. It was simple. My life was simple. I kept it that way.

Until Max. Then simple became complicated because I’d been unable to forget the image of her as she stood half-naked against the wall. Her silky white skin moist and heated from the shower; droplets trickling down the curve of her neck; nothing between us except a white towel. I saw the scars weaving across her skin and rage had burned inside me at whoever had done that to her. I wanted to rip them apart for even touching her.

I couldn’t forget Max no matter what I did. I’d tried to stay clear of Xamien’s, but I kept coming back, craving even just a glimpse of her. I fuckin’ stalked her. For weeks I watched her until I was needed for a job, but then . . . then I was back. I always fuckin’ came back.

The way she quietly moved through the gardens, her subtle movements like a rose petal floating on a gentle breeze. Quiet, subtle, beautiful. But Max had thorns. She just kept them hidden; at least she thought she did.

And then there were the nights I heard her screams from the nightmares. I had the overwhelming urge to say fuck it and run to her, hold her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t care. I had to stop caring. Those were the nights I left and found something to kill.

Xamien found out I was there, lingering like a black shadow on the outskirts of his property. He only contacted me once telepathically, asking me what the hell I was doing. I left that day and didn’t come back for a month. And when I did it was after Adrian’s call about the job. The one I refused at first and hung up on him.

Then the ice cold feeling intensified as I thought about what he was asking and I knew it had to be me. My usual job was killing and I did it well. Protecting a girl I obsessed about . . . one I’d have to kill if there was a chance the Scar could take her . . . but I’d rather it be me. There was no way in hell I was letting anyone else near her.

If shit went bad, then she’d die and so would my unhealthy obsession with it. Kind of a win-win.

---