Of Alliance and Rebellion (12 page)

Upon having the wayward thought, every fiber of Max’s being rebelled against the idea. Max clapped his lips closed around the
She’s mine
that threatened to burst from his chest. Instead, he managed a barely civil, “Do we need to talk about something?”

Luke’s eyes shifted to the left, and his unease was palpable. When Luke opened his mouth to speak, Max felt something heavy land in his stomach, because the look on Luke’s face said he definitely wanted to “talk about something,” and Max probably wasn’t going to like it. But it was almost worse when Luke closed his mouth and shook his head, his shaggy red hair swishing around on his forehead. “No, man,” he said in a gravelly voice that rivaled Max’s own. “Nothing we need to talk about.”

Max shook his head.
Yeah right
.

Luke sighed and ran a hand through his ragged, knotted hair. “Okay, if I’m going to do this talking to the angel thing…” He paused and looked at Max as though asking if he was still sure this was the path he wanted them to take. Max nodded, albeit reluctantly, and Luke continued, “Then I need to get cleaned up. Get back in my game so I’m as nonthreatening as possible. Cut this mop of hair off and shave.”

At this statement, Max’s eyes drifted to the en-suite bathroom at the other side of Oliver’s room. His first shower in years. He desperately wanted one. The thought, though, was damned depressing. He’d get in the shower, get clean, and still come out one ugly son-of-a-bitch.
Clean
wasn’t going to help him any.

Luke looked at Max fully for the first time since Eli and Jericho left. “Do you want me to cut your hair, too?”

Max had taken two quick steps backward before he caught himself and halted. The abhorrence Max had felt at the suggestion had been swift and surprising. The idea of having his face fully exposed ... He couldn’t prevent the shudder that wracked his body.

Luke’s face fell and blanched simultaneously, and Max felt a new flare of panic that he was so discomposed as to freak his very dear friend out over something as simple as
Do you want a haircut?

“Max,” Luke said softly, reaching toward him. “Man, it’s okay. You’re okay now.”

Max shook his head once and felt a muscle tick in his cheek that matched the pressure between his molars. “I’ll never be okay,” he muttered before he could stop himself. At least if he always expected the worst, he’d never be caught off guard again by life’s little fuck-yous. Luke looked as though he wanted to speak again, but Max cut him off. “Go ahead and do your thing. I’ll stay here with Oliver until he wakes up. Maybe I’ll catch a shower.”
Try to do something to make myself more presentable
.

Luke’s brows drew together in the center, but he nodded and left the room without another word. Max fought down the urge to follow him out into the hall and warn him to remember that Anahita was his.

The silence in the room was oppressive, and Max couldn’t stand still in it for long. With one quick glance at Oliver’s still form on the bed, Max decided it was time to face the music, so to speak.

He walked to the bathroom and turned around immediately upon entering to shut the door so he could avoid the mirror above the sink. As he psyched himself up for his first glimpse of himself since the scar, he turned to the shower stall, opened the glass door, and twisted the knob all the way over to hot.

He listened to the ceramic sound of the water hitting the stall for several moments before he acknowledged that if he waited much longer, the steam from the shower would obscure the mirror, and he wouldn’t get to see himself for a longer stretch of time. And while that thought was tempting, Max didn’t think that he could ratchet up his courage again.

Max let his head hang down as he shuffled around to where the sink was. He walked forward on dead feet, and when he arrived at the sink, he gripped the sides with both hands and leaned forward as some of the strength abandoned his legs. With a shuddering sigh, Max raised his head and met his reflection.

He froze. His breath abandoned him, and stars dotted the horrific vision before him. Steam began to fog the mirror over, but just before Max couldn’t see himself anymore, he caught the sight of a tear tracking down the ravaged skin of the ugliest face Max had ever seen.

He raised a hand to his face and touched the droplet with disbelieving fingertips. He drew it away again and stared in horror at the sign of weakness. Weakness he had promised himself he would never encounter again.

With a snarl, his fist launched forward and shattered the mirror. Glass fell down and splintered further around his bare feet, and without giving the broken shards any thought, Max turned and stalked over them to the shower, shedding his clothes as he went.

Gathering my thoughts. Gathering my thoughts
.

Anahita sat in her living room and attempted to do not only what she had told Remiel she’d planned on, but what he had
ordered
her to do. Her thoughts were proving elusive. At least, the thoughts she was
supposed
to be gathering were proving elusive. Certain other thoughts were proving to be present in abundance.

She ran her fingertips along the fine leather of the sofa on which she sat and tried to allow herself to feel the joy she’d first felt at discovering she was being given her own space to live in. But that joy was long gone.

Max—her brave, wounded, stalwart Max—was going to die, and Anahita was going to deliver the blow. And while that thought appeared in her mind every few seconds, it interrupted a senseless stream of other thoughts that were preventing her from organizing herself and allowing her Compulsion to set.

Namely, how close she’d come to finding out how Max’s lips tasted. She’d been so close to him—had already been able to taste the skin in the hollow of his neck. She’d only needed to tip her head back and press her lips to his. Would she have been allowed to touch them with her tongue to get a better taste of him? Would he have permitted such a thing, or was she depraved?

She wished she knew more about what happened—what was considered
normal
—between lovers. She had never paid close attention to the humans she’d encountered in such situations because she’d had to be so focused on gaining her Warrior status, such matters had been inconsequential.

Anahita dug her fingertips into the couch and gripped with all of her might as she shoved thoughts of Max and his treacherous lips aside.

Her mission.

Oliver, Luke, Max—who was guiltiest? Who needed to die first? They had all eaten the fruit at the same time and voluntarily—though under heavy pressure—so no seniority ranked one over the other. They had all been imprisoned for the entire duration of their immortality, so none of them had committed certain deeds that would make them more viable as a threat. So, really, it did not seem to matter who died first; they were all equally guilty.

Unfortunately, Anahita was suffering from partiality. No Warrior would ever admit to such a thing. Max—of course she would not want to kill her own Temptation. That was the base of their functions: to Tempt angels away from their callings. Luke, however, Anahita
liked
, which was more than she could say for her cruel Temptation. Luke was sweet. Innocent, but for the grave error of eating of the Tree of Eternal Life. And he had been raised with a healthy respect for the Most High, one that she could not help but admire.

Anahita hung her head and looked at her lap. Why couldn’t Max be more like Luke?

Her head snapped up. Thank
God
Max was not more like Luke. One word of kindness from Max, one soft touch, and all would be lost.

A knock sounded from the direction of the door, and Anahita looked toward it and frowned before she remembered this was how humans announced a desire to visit one another. What was she supposed to say? “Come in?”

Despite the fact that the words had come out as a question, the door cracked open and a tall, red-haired man with tortoise-shell glasses peeked in.

“Anahita,” he said with a smile. “Hi.”

Anahita narrowed her eyes. Did she know this man? As she looked closer, she noticed his eyes crinkled at the corners behind his glasses, just as—“Luke?” she asked, straightening in her seat.

Luke ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck as he laughed. “Yeah.”

Anahita took him in in amazement. His long, shaggy hair was gone. Now he wore the haircut of a businessman. He was clean shaven, and as he entered the room and shut the door behind him, Anahita could see that he was dressed in slacks and a short-sleeved, collared shirt ... a polo shirt, she thought they were called. He certainly looked different. Would Max have undergone a similar transition? How she longed to see him and see for herself.

“I thought I’d come by and check to see how you’re settling in,” Luke said. Anahita must have been staring at him in silence for quite some time, because Luke shifted from one foot to the other. “Is it alright that I’m here?” he asked.

Anahita straightened and made herself focus. This was good, that Luke was here. Perhaps she could learn about him through conversation and find out where on the chain he should fall in her mission. Now, if she could remember the manners of the humans. “Will you sit down?” she asked, gesturing to the chair across from her that Remiel had vacated earlier.

Luke smiled that easy-going smile once more and made his way over to her where, instead of sitting in the chair she had indicated, he sank down onto the leather sofa beside her. He ducked his head and glanced into her eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked gently. “You seem concerned about something.”

Anahita laughed without humor. That was putting it mildly.

“That’s putting it mildly, huh?” Luke said, the corner of his lips tipping up.

Anahita jolted in her seat. “I, uh, was just…” Anahita shook her head. “Yes. I guess you could say that.”

“Is it anything I can help you with?” he asked, looking so earnest something pulled in Anahita’s chest.

She felt herself smile. “No, unfortunately.” She had the urge to pat his hand. “It is something I must figure out for myself.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. His brown eyes seemed to gain warmth, and Anahita had to fight the sudden struggle to unburden herself to him. He just seemed so trustworthy and harmless. “Is there a way you can talk it out without revealing any details?” he asked. “I’m a great sounding board.”

Anahita tilted her head. “Sounding board?”

His smile grew sheepish. “Uh, yeah.” His hands moved in front of him as he visibly struggled for words. “A person who just kind of listens while you work to figure something out.” His hands fell to his lap. “Would that be helpful?”

Anahita smiled. “That would be helpful, yes, but it is a luxury I cannot afford.” Why,
why
did she have to kill this man? “I have several constraints on me at present, unfortunately.”

Luke’s eyes crinkled at the corners a bit. “Is that so?”

Anahita’s smile slipped. She got the sudden feeling that she’d just revealed everything she was supposed to keep secret.

Luke’s smile once again grew easy. “I may as well tell you that Max overheard a man talking to you in here.” He chuckled while Anahita’s shoulders tensed. “He sent me to make sure you were okay.”

Now that felt like an outright lie. “I doubt that.”

Luke chuckled again. “Okay, maybe
I
just wanted to make sure you were okay after he told me.” He shrugged. “So, are you? Okay? Is this man anything we need to do something about?”

Anahita felt the urge to laugh herself. As if they
could
do anything to help against Remiel. As she gave in and a soft laugh escaped her lips, she noticed that Luke’s eyes crinkled again, and she silently cursed and reminded herself to remain emotionless. The man before her seemed to glean much from little. She hoped she was mistaken in that supposition. “Remiel is perfect,” she said. “Not a threat to me at all. In fact, he would never do anything outside of his calling. He’s the only one I know who was able to thwart Temptation.”

“Thwart?” Luke asked with a smile. “Sounds easy enough. Like resisting hamburgers?” His eyes twinkled. “Maybe not easy enough, come to think of it.” He leaned forward. “Burgers are definitely
my
temptation,” he said in a conspiratorial tone.

Now Anahita laughed outright, and it felt so good. Had someone ever made her laugh? “No, not like hamburgers,” she said. “And not easy at all. He sent her—” Anahita caught herself right before the words left her mouth, and she sobered. “Well,” she said, staring at her hands. “It is not my story to tell. However, it is my aspiration.”

She looked at Luke again to find that his face was still close to hers after he’d leaned forward to whisper and joke with her. Something in the back of her neck relaxed. Unlike with Max, Luke brought an ease to her. A genuine feeling of closeness without the complications of lust, anger, and shame that seemed to hang over her each time she even thought Max’s name.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and her tension returned along with her frown. “I wish you were mine,” he muttered.

Anahita straightened and sat back from him a little, but not nearly as much as she should have. His words were like a balm to her. She’d had the same thought, after all. She’d mesh much better with Luke than Max. But the Most High must disagree with her, she remembered as she looked into Luke’s kind eyes. For it was
Max
who was her Temptation, not this man before her. And, as Luke’s fingers reached forward and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, she noticed the marked lack of any flare of heat—heat that would be an inferno if it were Max’s fingers reaching toward her face.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Luke said as his fingers brushed across her cheek and moved to tuck the curl behind her ear. It was such a familiar gesture, and Anahita felt her first burst of unease. This didn’t feel right. Almost like a betrayal of all things.

Yet, still, Anahita did not move away. Her cursed curiosity was striking again. She knew from the intent way Luke was now focusing on her lips that he was considering kissing her. And Anahita had so wondered about kissing. Max would
never
look at her this way. Would probably never even kiss her—he seemed to despise her with such vigor.