Page 17 of The Storm
“Yes.”
He brought her to mind-shattering orgasm before the kettle boiled.
Max turned Renata around when she could barely stand. His kiss was long and lazy. “Go lie down,” he said. “Get out of those clothes, and I’ll make the tea.”
She nodded and did what he said. If she was less exhausted, she’d be more angry at his high-handed orders, but she simply didn’t have it in her. She was emotionally and physically wrung out.
She went to the bedroom and shut the heavy drapes, dropping her clothes on the floor before she tumbled into bed and let her eyes close.
Safe. When Max was with her, she knew she’d be able to sleep. Knew that if the monsters came knocking, he could kill them even faster than she could.
She didn’t tell him that either.
A few minutes later, he brought a cup of tea in and set it on the bedside table. He stripped off his shirt and pants. His boxers were tossed on top of her clothes. Then he drew back the sheet and slid into bed beside her.
“Come here,” Max said, hooking her leg over his hip. He was already hard when he kissed her. She could feel the length of him pressing against her. She was half-asleep, but she wanted him. She wanted to fall asleep with his weight on her.
“Fuck me,” she murmured, guiding him into her body. She let out a groan of relief when his hips bucked against hers. He was seated to the hilt, his muscled arms caging her in, his massive shoulders blocking everything from her sight except him. Only Max.
“I’m not fucking you,” he whispered in her ear. He moved in steady rhythm, and his weight pressed her into the bed. “That’s not what this is.”
She didn’t argue. He was going to make her come again. She hovered on the edge.
“You know what this is,” Max said. “You know what we are.”
She cried out when she orgasmed and let the tears come when he finally groaned his own release and lowered himself beside her. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and didn’t say a word when he tucked his face into her neck. Max’s arm fell over her torso, and he let out a long breath.
“Sleep,” he whispered. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
They wouldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to end it even though she knew she should. No matter how many Grigori she killed, she still felt dead inside. She was hollow, and she needed him too much.
* * *
Cardiff, Wales
2010
She pickedup her phone on the second ring, but all she heard was silence.
“Max?”
There was nothing but ragged breath on the other end of the line.
“Max, what’s wrong?” Renata stood, leaving the table where a map of the city was spread out. She ignored the confused stares of her companions. She was working on a job with two Irina from North Wales, hoping to exterminate a nest of Grigori that was running a hostel in the mountains where young women were going missing.
She walked out of the room and up the stairs of the narrow house they’d rented. “I’m alone. What’s going on? Where are you?”
“I’m not hurt.” His voice was rough. “I just… I needed to hear your voice.”
“Where are you?”
“It’s not important,” he whispered. “Are you safe?”
Renata took a deep breath. “You have to stop asking that.”
It had become a bad habit in the past couple of years. Max never used to ask her about her jobs. She’d tell him or she wouldn’t. He didn’t ask what she was doing or where she was going. A few times a year, one of them would text the other. When they needed to, they would meet. That was all that was allowed. Sometimes they went over a year without seeing each other, though that was more Renata’s stubbornness than anything Max wanted.
“I know how to take care of myself,” Renata said. “You know that.”
