18

R ebecca’s unyielding fury drove her harder and faster toward those trees, and she ignored everything else.

The painful tip of a stick or edge of a hidden rock beneath her bare feet. The heavy, burning weight of rage in her core, fueling her forward.

The feeling of Maxwell close behind, constantly tugging her back in his direction, as if walking away without him threatened everything.

Both simultaneous sensations were impossible to ignore, warring with each other through her body.

She fought them both.

And she didn’t stop until she’d marched well into the thick woods along the river, her footsteps heavy and noisy, even with the constant rush of the river, the ceaselessly droning cicadas, and the rustle of her own bare feet through the underbrush, while branches snagged at the edges of Titus’s overlarge jacket she still hadn’t had the chance to replace.

When it felt like she’d gone far enough and gotten a better hold on her anger to lower the risk of doing something completely stupid because of it, she stopped and waited for the shifter to catch up.

Maxwell moved like a ghost through the woods, hardly making any noise himself. He stopped several yards away from her—another unusual response—and swept his gaze across the expansive trees hanging over them. The leaves fluttered and glinted with reflected afternoon sunlight through the canopy.

“What is this about?” he grumbled, as if he’d been pulled away from a critically important activity just to humor her here. “We’re here. Now you’ve seen the woods—”

“You!” Rebecca whirled on him again, seething. “This is about you. And them. And all that…I don’t even know what that was back there. How they’re treating you. I don’t give a shit if it’s what everyone expects of me. I will not just sit there and watch it happening, and I won’t let it keep happening.”

He took two steps closer and paused, the pain of defeat etched across his face. “There is nothing you can do.”

“That is such bullshit! Maybe there’s nothing you can do, or that’s just what you’ve convinced yourself of, but pack law has nothing to do with me. I don’t care what that bitch says… What? What are you laughing at?”

If anything in the world could make her angrier than she already was, it was probably this.

Maxwell wasn’t so much laughing as visibly fighting the smile flickering across his lips before finally answering her. “She would find it amusing to hear you call her that.”

Rebecca’s jaw dropped as she gaped at him, completely caught off guard by that unexpected deflection. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” His subdued smile disappeared as he dipped his head. “Though I recommend calling her Annie to her face.”

She blinked, stunned by his inability—or willing refusal—to acknowledge what actually mattered here. What she was actually trying to say.

A bitter laugh barked out of her. “Jesus Christ, I didn’t bring you out here to talk about Annie, no matter what we’re calling her or anyone else.”

“I know.”

The hint of certainty returning to his voice with those two simple words hurt almost as much as hearing him speak without it.

Then Rebecca realized how close he was again, still walking toward her, soft footsteps moving soundlessly across the thick, lushly green underbrush still damp beneath no lasting shade.

“I know,” he repeated, stopping inches away, reaching toward her as if trying to pull her in.

Rebecca slapped his hands away and stepped back, still fuming. “I’m not convinced.”

Holding her gaze, trapping her again in the quickening pulse of their silver glow, Maxwell took another step, making retreat practically impossible.

But he didn’t try to touch her again.

“I know ,” he murmured. “You brought me out here for me . I know we’re here now, alone. And I know I would not have left the yard to find more peaceful solitude in the woods on my own.”

“Why not?” she shouted. “Some stupid fucking rule says you have to sit there and take it while they treat you like that? It’s not right, and I have no fucking idea how you can still be so—”

“Rebecca, stop,” he rumbled, then stepped so much closer and reached for her shoulders.

“It’s fucking wrong !”

“Stop.” Then his hands settled on her shoulders with a flare of heat, and he pulled her forcefully against him.

With indignant fury blinding her to everything else, Rebecca only realized what had happened when she found her cheek pressed against his chest, the steady thundering of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

Her entire body blazed with fire and heat. She couldn’t tell anymore if it was from the shifter’s arms wrapped around her, holding her against him, or the fury now toeing the line into a battle-crazed fugue.

Maxwell’s deep inhale through his nose, the sound of breath rushing into his lungs as his chest expanded against her cheek and then his slow exhale again with the simultaneous slowing of his pounding heartbeat. Those became her entire existence for that one suspended moment, and she tried to breathe with him.

How the fuck was he so calm ?

“No law prohibits this,” Maxwell said, the words vibrating deeply through his chest and into her ear.

“Then why?” Rebecca pushed herself away from him, his arms loosening around her so she could look him in the eye. “Why would you just—”

“To punish myself.” His jaw settled again into a grim hardness. “I think. To…atone.”

“That’s not an answer,” she snapped and tried to push him away again, though he didn’t entirely let her go. “That’s not even—”

“ Thank you .” His eyes flashed once to catch her in their livening glow and did not release their hold on her.

The intensity of his gaze—so strikingly sudden after seemingly gone forever—and the solidity of what he felt now flooding into her made her freeze.

“With all sincerity,” he added. “I was ignorant to your experience of it. Inconsiderate. And I… Just thank you.”

No matter how much she might have wanted to rage against everything, indiscriminately and without conscience, all the fight rushed out of her at his words.

At the way he stared at her now, the electrifying heat racing through her from his hands still gently but firmly settled on both her shoulders.

What the fuck?

Was he back now? The real Maxwell Hannigan? Her Maxwell Hannigan?

Or was all this just an incredible act to calm her down, so she didn’t jeopardize his arrangement for Shade?

That didn’t really matter, though, did it?

She’d spoken her mind, and Maxwell hadn’t tried to change it,

They were here now, out of the worst of it, it seemed. And they were alone.

Even if it didn’t last, this was still worlds better than sitting beside him on that damn log and watching the shifter come apart, piece by piece, with every look not sent his way and every passing second of aggressively unsubtle isolation.

She’d take what she could get.

After drawing in and releasing one more deep breath to settle herself into the moment instead of her rage, she nodded and searched the shifter’s glowing gaze. “So what now?”

He released her shoulders and pivoted out of the way to stand by her side. “We take that walk.”

It seemed so easy for him to leave everything else at the proverbial door. She didn’t understand how, after spending the last few hours in silent, unacknowledged torment. But he seemed to be out of it now.

Then she realized how much she was still shaking, trembling with the last remnants of her residual rage that still had nowhere to go. Somehow, though, Maxwell had guided it along a course of dissipating into the ether.

And they weren’t going to do anything about it. Were they?

Confused by how quickly all her own boiling energy had suddenly settled, she turned in the underbrush to walk at the shifter’s side, hoping more than anything that she would find more similarities in him than alarming differences.

Especially now that they’d left the open yard behind the farmhouse and everyone currently occupying it.

At first, it felt like neither of them had anything to say. That this wasn’t even the right moment for conversation as they walked side by side through the trees, hearing the muted echoes of conversation and laughter echoing from the compound in the distance.

Rebecca was glad they were too far to make out any of those lighthearted conversations. She couldn’t have stomached listening to another moment of it.

When she shot Maxwell a sidelong glance to gauge his current state of mind, whether what he showed on the outside matched the fragile calm she felt strengthening in him, her heart leapt at the familiar sight.

The shifter stared straight ahead through the trees, his hands clasped behind his back like normal, his jaw firmly set but now with a new softness to it. Far more relaxed. Contemplative, even, as if they took walks through the woods like this every afternoon to keep themselves in check.

It really wasn’t an act.

As soon as she accepted that, Rebecca grew acutely aware again of this moment. The silence in the woods punctured by the rush of the river to their right, the birds in the trees, the constantly droning cicadas.

They hadn’t had a moment like this in what felt like forever, with nothing pressing to tend to and a surprisingly low likelihood of being interrupted by additional emergencies.

Lower than ever, to be honest.

And there was no more reason to keep putting off the conversation they’d been promising each other, which somehow turned up the pressure on needing to have it now.

Clearly, Maxwell had been thinking the same thing.

“Anything else you wish to get off your chest?” The words rumbled inside him almost like he was laughing at her, though his stoic mask remained when she shot him another quick sidelong glance.

Anything else to get off her chest? Ha! How about everything ?

The last of Rebecca’s anger fizzled away into a silent resolve. This was happening now, wasn’t it? It had to, or they might not even have another chance.

She puffed out a sigh through loose lips and swiped her hair away from her face. “Where do I even start?”

The next deep rumble from Maxwell could have been another chuckle or simply some thoughtful sound to break the silence. “Wherever you like.”

Wherever she liked? That didn’t narrow it down…

“Honestly, I want to start everywhere. Something tells me that it isn’t exactly a starting point.”

“Take your time.”

Wow. Was this patience from him? Or disinterest as he tried to help settle her or keep her occupied so they no longer focused on him ?

No, he was being genuine So was she.

What did she want to tell him now? While they had time? While this opportunity still existed?

Want had less to do with it than need, really. The growing compulsion to share all her secrets with the shifter beside her, and she’d been fighting it for weeks.

A promise she had to keep, because they’d both agreed to it.

But where the hell was she even supposed to begin?

They walked in silence, Rebecca wracking her mind for a starting point that wouldn’t immediately confuse him more than it offered any form of enlightenment.

Then Maxwell cleared his throat.

“Or perhaps we pick up where we left off at the compound.” He snuck a quick, darting glance her way, his expression almost unreadable again except for a flicker of what looked like embarrassment.

Because he’d almost given in completely to this thing between them, and Rebecca hadn’t?

“How you…”

Rebecca snorted. “How I walked into the center of Zida’s burning star and didn’t explode with it?”

He stopped abruptly and looked at her head on, his eyes widening. “Her what ?”

“Never mind. Her magic. And any other explanation of the rest of it is the healer’s story to tell. Mine is…longer. Maybe.” She shrugged. “Probably a lot more complicated, if I had to guess.”

Lifting his chin, Maxwell looked up ahead through the forest again. “Whatever you deem important for me to know. For now. Leave the rest for when we have…more time.”

More time? With all this open space and no reason for imminent interruptions now that Shade had found their safety, she and Maxwell technically had a whole week.

Yet the thought of being here that long formed a tightening knot of disgust in her belly and almost made her sick.

No, Rebecca couldn’t stay here like this for a week. Maxwell couldn’t, either.

With more time—which certainly wasn’t guaranteed to either of them—she could go into a lot more detail of her story, illuminate a lot more deep shadows and hidden corners.

Right now, while they walked through the woods, sticking to the brass tacks of what he needed to know was the best way to do this.

“Right.” Swallowing the sour taste in her mouth after imagining the inevitable consequences of her and Maxwell staying here another six and a half days, she nodded. “All the pertinent things you need to know. I can do that.”

Probably the best place to start. Keep it relevant.

Rebecca steeled herself to let loose the details of so many secrets she’d fought for so long to keep buried deep down inside.

Just trying to get the words out, to find the best starting sentence, felt like cobwebs in her mind. Cotton keeping her mouth dry and her tongue stuck in place.

Until she finally thought she’d found it.

“You heard my conversation with the Bloodshadow Council in that trailer.”

“I did.” Maxwell didn’t sound too happy about recalling that particular memory.

Rebecca wasn’t, either. But the way either of them felt about it didn’t change what had happened.

“You heard what they called me,” she said.

“The Bloodshadow Heir.”

She stopped this time to look up at him in surprise.

He’d pulled that one out of his memory a little too quickly.

When he met her gaze, Maxwell blinked, his mouth working in a brief fluster before he asked, “Or are you referring to the given monikers in the elven tongue? I could not repeat those if I tried.”

The thought of Maxwell speaking the ancient language of her people brought an amused smile to her lips.

“No.” She kept walking. “I’m referring to the Bloodshadow Heir.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her that he’d remembered and recalled the information so easily. She already knew full well the shifter’s mind was a steel trap.

Which also meant he would remember every aspect of this conversation, and she didn’t quite know how she felt about that.

“That’s what I am,” she continued. “The Bloodshadow Heir. And it’s also…what I can do. You’ve seen some of it already.

“When you healed me at the warehouse.”

“Yeah.”

“And what you did at Headquarters,” he added. “During the explosion.”

When she glanced his way, the shifter looked deep in thought as they walked and didn’t seem to notice her looking at him. Though he probably felt it the same way she felt his gaze on her own face every single time.

Then she realized that was all Maxwell had seen of her Bloodshadow magic—bringing him back from the brink of death and absorbing most of Zida’s overpowered magic to keep it from killing the entire task force when it erupted.

She’d hidden the rest of it from him.

No one had seen her stab her spear through Aldous’s back when they’d fought to the death, or when she’d absorbed the necromancer’s mass death spell in the auditorium at the abandoned amusement park.

The only other time he might have truly seen what she could do would have been beneath the Polly L. Bridge when the Azyyt Ra’al attacked, but Rebecca didn’t know exactly who had seen her do what. Everyone had been so intensely focused on the battle they never would have won alone.

Maxwell had taken the nurúzhe’s attack in her place just as she’d ended that battle. If he thought being the Bloodshadow Heir made her a beneficent elf intent on only altruism, he was sorely mistaken.

She had a responsibility now to correct that misconception.

“And there’s…more I can do,” she added hesitantly. “A lot more, and it isn’t all as…positive as what you’ve seen. Not all meant to help others, necessarily.”

“Destruction.”