Page 41 of Obliterated
“I’m just not.”
“Why are you saying that?”
His jaw tightens. He looks away, takes another slow drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out, and exhales toward the dark like he wishes he could disappear with the smoke.
“You’ve been reading those medical books I left for you?”
I nod, swallow against his hand. He didn’t just bring me clothes and a dagger—he brought stacks of old, battered books, pieces of a lost world dropped in my lap.
“Then you may know by now that they had words for it in the past, before the virus destroyed society. Diagnoses, neat little boxes for what could be wrong with me. Antisocial. Narcissistic. Sociopathic. Pick your fucking poison.”
My chest tightens, heat rising hot behind my eyes. They’re just words. Words from people who are long gone, and won’t ever know him. Who’ll never see the way he steadies me, ruins me, makes me want something I’d already given up on.
Gods, he thinks he’s no good, but I’ve never wanted anything more in my fucking life.
“Just shut up with that bullshit. We’re all fucked here. No one gives a shit about what’s wrong with your brain when your guts might be on the floor tomorrow, Max. Here, being a little broken is surviving. Being a monster just means you’re still alive.”
He scoffs. “A monster, huh? That’s how you see me?”
No,shit, I didn’t mean that. “You’re not. I don’t think you’re antisocial, narcissistic, or psychopathic. You’re stubborn, yes. Slightly unhinged, I can’t deny that. But mostly… brave. Noble and strong. A protector.”
He huffs, but the fight bleeds out of him.
“You’re protectingme.”
That thumb is moving again, lazy circles over the pulse in my throat, and every pass makes my heartbeat hammer harder.
“You’re no monster, Max. You’remine.”
That gets me a response. His whole body shifts, just slightly, but it’s like the air changes with it. His gaze sharpens, flares, like I just lit something inside him he’s been fighting to keep buried.
His hand stills at my throat, fingers pressing a fraction deeper, not enough to hurt, just enough to make me feel the weight of him. His lips part as he comes closer, his breath hot against myface, and for a long, unbearable moment he just stares at me. Hungry. Like he doesn’t know whether to kiss me or devour me.
“I can’t stay away from you, Kee.” His voice is rough, dragged raw from his chest. “I haven’t exactly tried, but shit. If I did, I’d fucking fail.”
“Fuck you,” I breathe, but there’s no bite in it. “I don’t want you to try.”
The night sky burns in his eyes, every star brighter, sharper, collapsing into that gravity between us.
“You have to be sure of that.” His words are a warning, but his eyes,Gods.
His eyes scream something else.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
And my heart answers without hesitation.
Yours. Yours. Yours.
“I’m sure,” I whisper, the words trembling out of me, truer than anything I’ve ever said.
For half a heartbeat, nothing happens. Just his stare locked to mine, thumb still stroking the frantic pulse in my throat like he’s testing how far he can push me. My chest aches with the weight of it, with the desperate need for him to close the distance, to make mehis.
Then he does.
His mouth crashes against mine. Hard, demanding, claiming. The taste of smoke and toothpaste and something so entirelyhimfloods me, and I gasp into it, parting for him before I can think better of it. His hand tightens just enough at my throat to tilt my head back, deepening the kiss, guiding me where he wants me, tongue sweeping against mine in a hot, relentless clash that floods straight down my spine.
And I let him. Let him have all of me.
