Page 70 of Twisted Gift

“I’ll be fine once we get the hell out of here.”

I nod. “Okay.”

Max steps forward and sways. I almost don’t catch him and then struggle to keep us both upright.

“Easy,” I murmur. “I don’t think you’re fine, Max.”

His head turns toward me. “You think?” he mutters, looking less than pleased to have me holding him up with his arm around my shoulder and mine around his waist.

“Sit down for a minute.”

He shakes his head. “We don’t have a minute. I’m sure they know something’s going on by now.”

“Max,” I say in a firm tone. “Sit. Down.”

He narrows his eyes. “Are you this bossy with Tristan?”

A smile sneaks its way onto my lips. “Always.”

Sitting against the wall of lower cupboards, Max breathes in and coughs again. He wipes his mouth and comes away with blood. The sight turns my stomach, but I don’t cringe away.

“Lovely,” he grumbles.

“How did you get here?” I ask.

Max stares straight ahead. “They ambushed me a few days after you were taken. Bastards. We’ve been looking for you. Tristan—” Max’s voice trails off.

“Tristan what?”

Nothing.

“Max,” I say in a sharp tone, turning his face toward me. My heart races as dread fills my chest. “Max, open your eyes.” I pat his cheek, but he doesn’t stir. “Max.” I slap his face.

His eyes fly open, and he grunts.

“Thank god,” I whisper, breathless. “You can’t do that. Keep your damn eyes open,” I order, grabbing his face and holding it in my hands. “Eyes open.”

I can’t be sure when it started. Max blinks a couple times, then frowns. His face clears. No cuts or bruises, and while his clothing is still shredded in places, the skin underneath is smooth, uninjured.

“You just fed on me,” I breathe, fighting a wave of drowsiness.

“Yeah.” He sounds just as surprised as I am. “Hey,” he says, reaching toward me. “You all right?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.” My brows tug together as my eyes lock with his. “Am I...human?”

When my eyes start filling with tears, Max snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Nope. No time for that, blondie. We’ve got shit we need to do.”

I struggle to pull myself together, forcing deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth. I can break down later, once we’re out of this place. Centering myself, I hurry across the room and pull the shoes off the girl on the ground. My stomach churns when I look at her face.I killed her. I should feel guilty. It should scare me that I don’t.

Max says nothing as I put the shoes on, and then we leave the room without looking back.

We make it halfway down the hall before the alarms sound.

“Goody,” Max mutters, slowing to a halt to say, “Get ready to fight.”

My eyes widen and whip toward him as I fight to catch my breath. I’ve never been a fan of running. “With what weapons?” I snap.

He lifts his fists. “Put ’em up. Channel that rage you felt when you busted into the room and saw them torturing me. Very touched by that by the way.” He smirks at me.

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