Perhaps he wasn’t in denial, after all. I was the only one who hadn’t caught up to the plotline. Was this the part of the story where the unobservant girl was murdered?
I talked a mile a minute in the truck, words spilling out to fill the silence. Max listened patiently, as if he were trying tounderstand every word. But the way he looked at me, as if I were an entirely different person, made me restless and uneasy.
I was absolutely terrified of him now. The ink burned on my skin, a permanent reminder of our bond. Our tattoos weren’t just marks; they were chains, tying me to him in a way I couldn’t explain, and couldn’t escape. I didn’t know if he felt it too, that pull, that inevitability, but to me, it was almost like a vow I had secretly agreed to.
Like he was my soulmate.
I didn’t know what to do with all these conflicting feelings in my chest. All I knew was that I was his. And that might destroy us both.
We walked from the camp parking lot side by side, the grass brittle beneath our shoes, the air thick with heat. My arm brushed against his, and my chest immediately clenched tight.
I could still feel the heat of his cheek under my palm from earlier, still feel the echo of his gaze tearing me open. I didn’t know how to exist beside him without drowning. Because I wanted to dive into him.
As we rounded the bend to the cabin, that’s when we saw him.
Jackson.
He was by the fire pit, hauling a crate of kindling, his shirt sticking to his back. He looked up immediately, as if he’d been waiting for me, and his stare slid over Max before landing on me. His gaze was cold and possessive—unsettling in the daylight.
A cold whisper of dread climbed up my spine. I didn’t think. My hand reached for Max’s on instinct, like my body knew what I needed before my brain caught up. His fingers closed around mine without hesitation, grip solid, his thumb brushing over my knuckles with muscle memory.
Jackson’s smirk faltered. Satisfaction sparked hot and sharp in mygut.
I stopped walking. Max turned to me, brows drawing together.
“You ready?” he whispered.
I rose onto my toes, wrapping my hands around his neck so he had to bend down. I pulled him closer—not for a kiss, not yet, but close enough that my forehead pressed against his. Our lips hovered, breath mixing and tangling. His hands found my waist, gripping me firmly as if he’d been waiting for this moment. His dark, intense gaze locked onto mine. I stared into his eyes, sinking into the blue depths that unveiled his secrets and opened the door to his heart.
Max consumed every thought I had. He leaned in suddenly, closing the gap between us. The desire was all over his face. His eyes fluttered shut as he attempted to kiss me, but I jerked away instinctively, my heart pounding as Jackson’s gaze burned into us. I turned aside, desperate to escape his control, clawing at the oppressive feeling of him taking over my mind, as fear surged through me.
I started to panic. I could see Jackson watching us, and I was scared. Scared of what he would do to me after this. Scared of what he might do to Max for kissing me.
Max’s thumb on my chin snapped me out of my thoughts. He pulled my face up to him, forcing me to look directly into his eyes.
“Look at me,” he whispered, bringing me back to him. “Don’t think about him, look at me.”
Relief washed over me as we looked into each other’s eyes. He smiled, his eyes brimming with warmth, hope, and love.
“Thanks for today,” I murmured, my voice trembling.
“Anything for you,” he answered, and his voice was trembling back.
He was nervous. It was cute. I heard Jackson let out a low, angry growl, his heels digging into the dirt on the path near us as he began turning away in a huff.
“Ithink he bought it,” I whispered. I could feel Jackson’s eyes burning into the back of my neck, fixed on the strip of Saniderm over my new tattoo.
I pulled away from Max, prepared to return to the cabin and face my fate at Jackson’s hands, but Max clutched my shirt, gripping the fabric tightly, and hauled me back into his arms, crashing his lips hungrily against mine.
I gasped, utterly overwhelmed. Then I kissed him back, fierce and insatiable. His taste was heat, salt, and everything I had been refusing to admit, and when his hands seared around my waist, I knew I was as lost as he was. We fused together in an intense, fiery embrace—melting into each other.
His hands came up, cupping both sides of my face, holding me in place like I might run, but I couldn’t. There was nothing soft in his kiss. It was a silent vow between teeth and tongue. Max kissed me like he was trying to bury himself in my bones, like he needed to mark me.
His hands dropped to my ass, and he yanked me even closer to him. I moaned against his mouth, and he swallowed it. He wanted everything. Every breath. Every sound. Every fucking part of me.
His grip bruised; his kiss bruised deeper. He kissed me like he was starving. Like I was the first real thing he’d ever tasted.
And I let him. Knowing full well we were digging our graves.
