Page 255 of Sorrow & Strangers

Alice, sensing the tension, walks to the cart and pours a drink so golden it appears red in some light. “I got you some hellfire whiskey. I can make you a cocktail with it.”

“Thanks,” he says, “but I’ll just take it on ice.”

Alice sighs, then finishes pouring the liquid into the glass. Careful not to get any on her skin, she hands it to Rafe and turns on some quiet music to ease the guests in as people start to arrive.

“Hello?” a voice calls from the other room, and I tense, recognizing it immediately.

“You invited Max?” I hiss, grabbing Alice’s arm.

Max walks into the room and zeroes in on me, giving me an awkward smile and a wave.

I’d barely seen Max since that night in the infirmary. He pushed back when I told him I needed to stay away from him, but when I presented him with a ring of his own, he accepted it and put it on. It isn’t nearly as powerful as the one Alice gave me, just heavily runed to protect him as much as possible, giving him the opportunity to get away. I think it was as I was explaining what it did that he realized he was in the middle of something complicated. I asked Alice to check on him a couple of times, and I’ve seen him in the corridor, but I haven’t been back to the gym.

“Yeah, I invited everyone,” Alice says, pouring herself a drink. “Want me to kick him out?” she asks. I consider it, but as the house slowly fills with people, it feels awkward to force him away when I don’t know the names of most of the people currently littering my living room.

“No, I’ll just avoid him,” I grumble, grabbing my tumbler and going through to the kitchen to get some more ice and maybe even have a couple of drinks in there to ease the awkwardness.

The kitchen door swings closed behind me, and the silence is soothing until I hear the door again, and I glance over my shoulder to see Max entering, holding a beer.

“Hey,” he says, leaning against the counter. My heart tugs at the memory of the first party I came to here, when Connor sat me on top of that very counter, when he stopped our make-out session to feed me so he could kiss me, knowing I was in my right mind to consent.

Looking back, it all seemed so simple then.

“Hey,” I reply, grabbing the first bottle I see and pouring myself a healthy measure of scotch.

“Still avoiding me, I see,” he says, taking a deep swig of his beer.

“Max . . .” I say with a sigh and a grimace, keeping my back to him.

“It’s because I kissed you, right?” he asks.

“What?” I ask, taking a sip of my scotch and glancing at him over my shoulder.

“I’ve put the pieces together,” he says, putting his beer down on the counter, his eyes on me. “My arm. It’s ’cause I kissed you.”

“Fuck,” I say, looking back down at the counter.

“Worth it,” Max says.

Shocked, I turn to face him and find his gaze locked on me. He pushes off the counter and rounds it to stand in front of me. I look up at him, clutching my glass against my chest. His gaze drops to my lips, and my tongue flicks out to wet them. This is a bad idea, a very bad idea, but I’ve missed him, and I’ve missed intimacy.

The stranger is gone, and so when Max leans in to brush his lips over mine, I don’t stop him. I don’t kiss him back immediately, but when he pulls back to check that I’m okay, I’m the one who leans back in to press my lips against his. It feels so good to be touched like this. I’ve deprived myself of all contact like this, and I’ve missed it.

And then his lips brush over mine, and time stops.

No. Not now. I will not think of him and that brief contact of his lips.

Max pulls back. “Upstairs.”

Say no. Say no. This is dangerous, but I need to feel alive.

I really should listen to that internal voice. I know it. This is dangerous for both of us, but I desperately want to feel. I want to remind myself that I am still alive. Taking a deep breath, I slide my hand into his and lead him back to the party. It has really kicked off since we escaped to the kitchen, and the music is thumping. Without pausing, I lead Max through the crowd and up the stairs. He squeezes my hand, almost reassuringly, and I glance at him over my shoulder as we ascend the steps. Max pauses outside my door, and I turn to face him. “You okay?” I ask.

Maybe he’s changed his mind. I wouldn’t blame him. Last time, he got mutilated simply for kissing me. Let alone what we’re about to do.

“Just never been in your room before,” Max says with a chuckle.

My lips twitch, and I reach behind me to open the door, pulling him with me into my bedroom. Again, the second the door closes, the music from outside becomes nothing but a thumping echo. Max wastes no time. Reaching for me, he pulls me close and kisses me again. He backs me into the room until the back of my legs hit the bed, breaking the kiss only long enough to pull the dress off my body and discard it on the floor.