Page 147 of Sorrow & Strangers

The fuck does his eye color have to do with anything? What a weirdo.

“Brown . . .” she breathes. She’s furious, her stormy blue eyes impaling him with her glare. “He didn’t touch the berserker.”

The fuck? That was just his strength? Not even anything extraordinary?

“I am stronger than you. You can lose it here,” Max says smugly. “And if necessary, I can take you out.”

That’s what that was about? He knew I needed a safeguard, so he proved to me that if I went completely Fallen, he could kill me. His eyes never turned green, and even as he strangled me, I don’t remember feeling his body grow bigger or his strength suddenly increase. Romulus strangled me with completely ordinary strength. Me. A demon. A Fallen.

If it comes down to it, Romulus will take me out to keep others safe. I can’t hurt others if he is around. He can and will stop me. Easily so. I should feel humiliated by the way the berserker has so thoroughly thrashed me, but I can’t bring myself to care through this flood of relief.

He read me so easily and maneuvered me so I could feel safe by fighting me.

“You’re still a dick.”

Chapter Sixty-Five

Summer

Fury surges through me as I glare at Max. He punched Rafe, provoking him for no reason. He put himself in danger for no reason, yet he managed to hold Rafe without even leaning into the berserker.

Max’s eyes are locked on mine, the smirk on his face deepening as he sees my irritation. “Rafe. Wait for me in the sparring room. Summer, my office,” he says, not waiting for either of us to respond before disappearing into his office.

I glance at Rafe, checking that he’s all right. He is scowling, but his eyes seem to sparkle a little as he walks into the sparring room. When he’s safely in there, I storm into Max’s office, ready to rip him a new asshole.

“Are you a fucking—?” Max grabs me and yanks me against him. His lips slam down onto mine, stealing my admonishment. I lose myself in the kiss for a long moment, but my annoyance won’t be denied, and I pull back. I slap my hands against his chest. “What was that?”

“We both know you don’t want to talk about that right now,” he says, tangling his hand in my hair and kissing me again.

I moan, and Max picks me up with one arm. This is so wrong, yet I melt into the kiss. Max carries me across the room and swipes his arm over his desk. Distantly, I am aware of everything crashing to the floor. Sitting me on the edge, he makes quick work of both of our shorts before rolling on a condom and burying his cock in me to the hilt in one quick thrust. He swallows my moan of pleasure, and I anchor myself by digging my nails into his shoulders. He bucks his hips against me, and the desk groans beneath us.

“Max?” I pull back to look up at him, that green now visible in his eyes. I need something from him. I crave something from him, and I brush my fingers down his arms. His muscles are bulging with the effort to keep the berserker down. “Don’t hold back,” I say.

Max doesn’t hesitate. Green flashes through his veins, and his body doubles in size as he lets the berserker come out to play with me for the first time. I cry out, and he grips my hips, lifting my ass from the desk. His thrusts grow brutal, and I revel in them, knowing that every single place he touches is going to bruise.

“Fuck.” I grab his face and pull him to me, kissing him savagely.

I jerk forward as the desk slams into the wall, but I don’t care, and neither does Max.

“Harder,” I snarl, needing even more, but not really knowing what I need.

Max obeys, and I throw my head back from the pleasure, but something is still missing. I growl in frustration, but my toes curl anyway as I reach my release. It soars through my entire body, and Max roars into my mouth, coming at the same time.

Max’s body shrinks again, and he buries his face into my neck as I quiver from my orgasm, but when he brushes his nose against my pulse, I tense. Is he . . . nuzzling me?

Absolutely not.

I shift, and he pulls back, giving me a lazy, satisfied smile. “I’m starved.”

I roll my eyes. “Rafe is waiting for you,” I remind him.

Max curses and pulls out of me. He deals with the condom and grabs a protein bar. “Not my fault that someone was giving me fuck me now eyes.”

I blink. “Well, it sure as hell wasn’t me,” I say, pulling my shorts back on.

Max takes a healthy bite of the protein bar, his eyes narrowed on me as he chews. He walks over to me and playfully bites me on the cheek. “Liar.”

I bristle, so sick of everyone calling me out for being a liar. Why can’t I just live in my own little land of delusion? Isn’t that the only pro of having a dead fiancé? People should just accept your delusional state.