Page 75 of Obliterated
Like the universe fucked up somewhere and spat him out as its retribution. He doesn’t just carry chaos; he is it. It’s worn into his skin, etched into every sharp smile, every twitch of those bloodstained fingers.
You don’t approach someone like Max. You survive him. Or you don’t.
And Iwillsurvive him. I’d give everything for him, and I’ll fight tooth and nail against whatever the red rain tries to write in my blood.
I swallow. Take that step forward, the need to go to him, to soothe him so strong, I can’t fucking resist it.
He must hear something shift, because he snaps his gaze to me. A fuckinggrowlrips out of his chest, low and fierce, and then it cuts off so abruptly when when he takes me in.
“No!” That one word tears from him, loaded with so much anguish it makes the room spin.
He shakes his head. His whole body trembles, like someone’s hit him in the chest. “Oh gods. Please.Pleaseno. You’reTouched.”
He rushes through the sliding door. His hands don’t find my throat this time; they find my red-soaked cheeks, rough and certain. My hands clamp to his wrists like my life depends on it, because maybe it does.
“Kieran.”He says my name, and it’s everything. Filled with sorrow, pleading, a rawness that makes my guts twist.
“I know. I’m so sorry,” I whisper, the words thin and useless. I close the distance and press my forehead to his, my hands burning on his skin, gripping him tighter. Trying, uselessly, to be the anchor he needs.
“Why did you do that?”The tone in his voice is something I’ve never heard from him before. Devastated and desperate.
“I had to come find you,” I say. “I couldn’t sit there and do nothing. While you were—While she—”
He shakes his head again and again, cutting me off. “Kee,no. I would’ve… I would’ve come home. Eventually.”
“But I didn’t know. You were gone. And then we heard about… I was scared for you,” I say, the sound rough in my throat.
His fingers clench on my wet cheeks, thumbs pressing hard, forehead leaning to mine. He smells of smoke and rain and something older. “I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry.Tass…” His voice breaks.
“I know. Iknow.Shit, I’m sorry, Max. She didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve to have to do that.”
He shakes his head once more, the tip of his nose going past mine in a wet slide, and for a blink the world narrows to the two of us and the hiss of the rain. “I can’t kill you like I killed her.I can’t. Pleasedon’t ask me to.I killed my best friend.Myonlyfriend.”
My head is mimicking his, shaking hard. “No, Max, baby,no.You didn’t kill her. The virus did, that damn infection did. That’s not on you.”
“I can’t… I can’t get themout. No matter how many Walkers I kill, how many I gut. I can’t get thatitchout. Itried. The bloodlust… That damn static. It doesn’tstop.”
Instantly, I know what he means. I see it in the starry sky of his eyes. That thing living under his skin, the monster who’s pacing and snarling, needs an outlet. It’s fierce and hungry, and the pain turns it into something worse.
Stronger this time, fueled by the hurt, the loss and the overwhelming grief for his friend.
I don’t know why I do it, why a tiny part of me thinks this will help, why I dare to hope it might, but I surge up on my toes and claim his mouth with everything I have.
My hands tighten on his wrists like I’m anchoring us both, and the world narrows to wet heat and the taste of him. I kiss him like I’m trying to shove air and life back into his lungs, like I’m wiring him to me so he can’t fall apart.
Our tongues duel, my teeth find his bottom lip, and he answers in a shudder that breaks me right the fuck open.
His hands cradle my jaw, thumbs digging in, and I press harder, driving every stupid, bloody, desperate piece of me into that mouth.
He tastes like grief and smoke and the ocean.
He tastes like the thing I refuse to lose.
“Kee, I’m not… Not me right now,” he says against my lips when I finally pull away, voice ragged and raw.
“You are,” I rasp, “This is a piece of who you are, and I love all parts of you… even the broken, the dark ones.”
His eyes flare with something deeper than his shadows, flashes for a beat with something other than his itch. Something hungry and bright and frightening and filled with hope.
