29. Draven

Two hours until maze four

W atching her fall from the maze nearly shatters my restraint, but hearing her call for me pushes me past the edge.

For the first time since losing my sister, I swear I can feel my heart. It's not just the pulsing in my veins; it's the pounding against my chest, a stark reminder that I still have one.

She's reminding me I'm alive, and that's something no one has ever done for me. Not even Alyson.

I think Marcella has lost her mind. As I tower over Max, she doesn't even glance up at me. Blood stains her hand from the scalpel she's lifting as she approaches my Little Sheep.

I'll be taking that and ramming it through her eye if she continues.

I'm down on my knee behind Max wrapping an arm across her collar and pulling her tight to me. My fierce stare up at Marcella darkens, and as Jun appears behind her, I shift to him.

"Get her, or you both die. You're stepping into my territory."

He grabs hold of a thundering Marcella, her teeth clenched as she screams out like a maniac.

Feeling Max shaking, I tighten my grip. "Grim—Grim?!"

"Shh," I don't take my eyes from the two in front of us, but I lean into her ear. "I'm here baby, I've got you."

Jun grabs onto Marcella's arm, and I can see the defiance in her. She's assessing if I would truly do as I've threatened. I don't want to freak Max out more by providing her details of me just minutes earlier killing Oscar, but I will if Marcella continues to stand there like a psycho.

"Grim…" Max has her head turned to me, her hand coming to rest against my cheek. "Are you…"

My eyes widen as I start to rise, ready to go after Marcella, but she makes the smart move and steps back into her maze. Staring at me as she disappears into it, as if she believes she is fucking safe in there. Only when Jun closes the door, do I finally turn to meet Max's gaze. Her pupils are so tiny I can barely make them out. She's been crying, her swollen eyes and cheeks nearly as red as the blood on my hands.

I don't focus on what is going on around us. The sound of people vomiting and screaming attempting to take dominance, but I refuse to hear any of it, just her. I can see her hysteria building, and I know talking is the only thing that is going to keep her grounded with me.

"You did it," my tone stays low and soothing. "I'm so damn proud, Little Sheep."

"Are you real?" She is now cradling my face with her shaky hands. "Dr—Grim?"

"Call me Draven, it's okay." I don't know what comes over me, but I lean in and press a kiss between her brows. "You did so fucking good. You're out. You made it."

"Oh fuck—she—I—my face—"

I need to take her away, get her cleaned up and liquid in her. Get her somewhere comfortable, and just keep her close while she rides out the effects. "What about your face, tell me, Max." I scoop her up into my arms, cradling her close to my chest.

"Your face…" She keeps my face between her hands and turns me to look down at her as I'm exiting the safe area between the mazes. I haven't had a chance to fully assess her, but she's covered in small cuts all over her face. If she lets go of me, I might lose control and go straight back to kill that blonde-haired bitch. "Blood… we are matching…"

She's pulling my face down which makes me stop my stride, and meet her lips halfway. I know she's under the influence, so I don't let her hold me to her. After her rightfully placed anger toward me, I don't want to assume she truthfully wants that.

"Your face is perfect, Petit Mouton , I'll get you cleaned up if that's what you are worried about." I give her a smile and she tries to give one back, but her body vibrates, likely losing focus on keeping herself settled.

"She said you'd not want me when she was done."

I shake my head with conviction. "She's wrong, Max. Dead wrong."

"She said you'd never want me—never…" I'm picking up my pace, knowing it will take me at least ten minutes to get us back to my trailer, but I try to make up time by sprint walking.

I don't want to exacerbate any feelings of nausea, so I won't go too fast. "Tell me, baby, so I can reassure you she's just a jealous bitch."

Her hands drop from my face to my chest, and I can feel her nails picking at the drying blood. "She heard me tell you what happened to me." She doesn't have to elaborate, and I won't press further; I just need her to keep talking. "She said…" I can see the lining of the carnival and soon, the first set of trailers. "She said I enjoyed it…"

Red is creeping at the sides of my vision, and I grip her tighter to my body. Her nails bite into my chest, and I look down at her. A stream of tears roll down her cheeks, but she doesn't look angry, nor sad, just… Tired.

Oh, Max.

Marcella just sealed her fate with that one.

"She said you fucked other girls like me—"

I swear to fucking Hell itself.

"You'd get tired of me, just like all the others—"

"Please, Max, don't listen to her. She's a jealous cunt, and her weird obsession over me is as strange as Po's."

I find her lip twitch, I added Po in there in the hopes it would drag her to a happier place. I'll mention how he tries to mess with me as a joke, even though it infuriates me and I'd love nothing more than to kill him for it.

Except, she doesn't laugh, instead falls deeper into despair.

"She was going to make me kill myself… tell you I left…" I'm trying not to focus on her ending her own life, and just disappearing. Her head drops back just as I take the first step up into my trailer. "Would you look for me?"

"In this life," I release her legs, lifting one of mine to support her as best as I can, and swing the door open. "And in the next." When I step us through, I repeat the same action, and close the door behind us.

"Because you are the Grim Reaper," she says, her head rolling away from me. I lift the arm cradling the back of her head, guiding her face back toward mine. "You have an ‘in' with the afterlife, Big Guy...?"

A small smile pulls at my lips. "Sure. We will go with that."

"I'm seeing two of you." I pause at the bathroom door and groan at the size of it. "Why so much blood…"

"I killed Midnight," I feel her slightly tense. "I'll tell you about it later, listen…" I slip the bathroom door open, and drop her legs, but keep her upright against my body. "I am going to undress you, and get you under some hot water. Cleaning you off, the steam, all of it will help begin getting this out of your system." Her eyes are distant, so I wrap one arm under hers and around her back, while my other hand gently brushes her hair from her face.

"Focus on me," I drag my knuckles across her check, then push a few strands of hair behind her ear. "The shower isn't big, and as you know, I'm a ‘big guy', so there won't be much room."

"I don't want you to see me, I'll do it alo—"

"Even if I thought you capable of standing, I wouldn't let you go in alone." I lift her as I begin to shift her leggings and underwear down, but she begins squirming and shifting in my grasp. "Max, stop fighting me. Do I have to remind you I was hilt deep in your ass?"

"She said—"

"She is fucking wrong."

"She showed me." I'm surprised at the strength of her grip on my wrist, completely halting me. "Showed me…" I am going to maim that fucking bitch .

I release a breath through my nose. "Do you know why I don't call you beautiful, but instead, perfect, Max?"

The shake of her head is almost imperceptible, but I notice it. "It's because beauty is comparable, where you are not. You are my version of perfection, which no one can compare to."

Her expression is difficult to read, and I'm not sure if she'll even remember my words once everything is out of her system. It doesn't matter, though; I'll tell her every damn day whether she wants to hear it or not. Because, as I've said, once the weekend ends, there's no escaping me. She's mine until the day I die.

"Come on," I finally say after a moment of silence. Her body heat rises while I peel down her bottoms and take the shoes off at the same time they come down her ankle.

I slide my hands up her waist, and as I'm pulling the garment over her chest, she says, "Thanks."

I give her a soft hum of approval, and shift her in my grasp to remove the shirt completely. Next is her bra, which she doesn't fight me.

"Hang onto my neck for a moment." I draw her arms around me, and she does as commanded. This allows me to shrug off my jacket and take the time to kick off my boots. I remove my belt, but that's as far as I strip. Dragging us into the tight space, I turn the water on to its max, and lean against the cold plastic lining, keeping her close to me.

"Draven?"

I peak down, "Mhmm?"

"That bitch is crazy." She lets out a soft groan, pressing her forehead against my chest. I feel slightly bad she's mixing her cuts in with Oscar's blood. "Please tell me you didn't fuck her."

A low laugh rumbles from my chest, "No, I did not." I'm unsure what compels me, I'm not really a gentle person, but my hand caresses across her back.

Maybe I am becoming soft… but just for her.

She releases a dramatic sigh. "Thank fucking Hell itself. I do not want any part of her inside of me." Her head droops, but before it rolls to far I put my hand against her neck, steading her with my thumb. "You're hot."

"Okay," I say through another laugh, "let's get in."

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Mhmm."

The steam has made it impossible to see anything, just what I was hoping for, and before I drag us into the spaceship pod style shower, I lower the temperature. It hits my back first, and I slowly shift for it to splash her in the face.

I'm barely capable of shifting around in this shower, so having two of us in here, is my own version of a nightmare.

I just hope she isn't claustrophobic.

Turning completely to the side, she hums in approval, her bare chest pressing against my stomach as she weakly wraps her arms around my torso. The blood on me is beginning to drain downward, falling to our feet, and disappearing into the drain.

"The water is nice…" she moans, and I reach toward the rack that has my shampoo, and pop it open. Her hazel eyes round as I squirt it into her hair.

"What?" I ask, placing it back and pulling her tighter with the arm that's been holding her. Gently, I go to begin washing her hair.

"I can wash my own hair…" she murmurs, and I'm convinced she's not convinced she can.

I move my hand, "Okay, go ahead."

The subtle shift of her throat as she swallows hard is indication enough, but I have to tease her. "Can't move your arms from around me, huh?"

"I don't even think I have arms; I have noodles."

My lips press tightly together, fighting myself not to start laughing, because it's not funny. She's funny, not the drug that is making her loopy.

I get back to my effort in her hair. I'm a monster, not a psychopath, and it isn't an all-in-one wash. When I'm done scrubbing at her scalp, I rinse her, and then move to the conditioner, and repeat.

"Never took you as an aftercare person…" she whispers.

Me either… "I like seeing you pleased."

She doesn't say anything except for moans and groans of enjoyment, whether from the sensation or the drug, I'm not entirely sure. I'm paying no mind, as much as having her naked with me is how I'd like her at all times, no part of me is turned on.

I quickly wash her body, and after rinsing away the suds, I step us out of the shower. "Sit here on the toilet for a moment—"

"I don't need to pee."

"I know, Petit Mouton , I am going to rinse myself off with no pants."

I grab a towel and quite literally wrap her twice with it—king size towels, they are a must—and sit her down, leaning her against the small sink. "You okay here?"

"Oh yeah," she places one arm onto the countertop, and rests her head onto her forearm, her eyes trained right at where my cock will fall out. "Oohhhh yeeaaaaah."

Okay Kool-Aid man.

With a quick roll of my eyes, I drop my pants which are soaked, making it hard to do it gracefully.

"Jes—" I narrow my eyes at her. "Satan," she corrects herself in nearly a shout, "even soft you are massive—what are you?"

I stifle myself, instead just shake my head and step back into the shower to quickly wash off.

"You are so confident."

"Should I not be?" I run my fingers up and through my hair, but only use the bodywash to get cleaned from Oscar. I really would rather not smell like him.

"Mmm, you should be. You've just—Oh, do you have a rabbit?"

"Max," I quickly open the door and she snaps her gaze back up to mine. "Look at me, don't look at the ground."

"Easy." She grins so wide her eyes nearly disappear. "You just get naked easily in front of me. You must do it often…" I'm going to fucking kill Marcella for making a comment about my sex life.

"A body is a body. It's just physical."

"I'm sure the women love it—"

"Max, I've fucked women before you," I state plainly.

Her eyes widen.

"Just like you've fucked men before me. Don't let Marcella get into your head further." I study her as she buries her face in the arm resting on the countertop.

With one last rinse, I turn the water off, and step back out, grabbing my robe. "Let's swap." She just nods, and with a flop of her arm she raises her hand to me.

After swapping the towel, which was much more of me trying to unwrap an unwilling burrito, I've got her back in my arms and taking her into the living room.

"I've fucked a lot of guys," she slurs as I set her down onto the couch.

"All soon to be dead." The way her mouth drops open makes me chuckle. "Just kidding, Petit Mouton. Only those from yesterday on."

I quickly move away to grab some boxers and sweats, then return to her.

As I'm grabbing her a glass of water, some pringles and strawberry Twizzlers, she asks, "No television…" she seems disappointed. "What do you do… when not killing and chasing little sheep."

As I walk toward her, I place the glass into her hands. She grips it tightly to prevent any spillage from her shaking. After she takes a sip, I lift her up. "W-what… where are we going now?"

Moving her into my lap, I take a seat.

"Oh…"

"I like quiet." As she settles between my legs, I run my fingers through her wet hair. "It's a waste to have one, because I don't really watch it. So, I read."

"You? Read?"

"Yes." I don't really have a brush that would be good for her hair, so, suppose my fingers will do. "Anything really."

She leans to the side. "Romance?"

I just stare at her, wondering if she really wants me to answer that question or if she's smart enough to know that answer. The curl of her lips accentuates her Cupid's bow, and I sigh. "Of course, but not for that. It has to have a good story."

Her legs draw up to her chest as she trembles, as though she's cold. "What is your favorite book?"

"Can we discuss that another time?" Her smile drops. "How are you feeling?" I grab the back of her neck and pull her face closer to mine. "How does your heart feel? Do you feel like you are still sprinting?"

"It's sprinting but not from the drug," she whispers.

"It's the drug. Drink." I demand and she does without hesitation. "Are you cold?"

She drops her gaze, seemingly pondering, before she responds, "Yes."

I reach over to the back of the couch, grab a knitted throw made by my sister, and drape it around her shoulders. Although my robe is thick and nearly blanket-like, this will provide an extra layer of warmth.

"Or you could have just wrapped your arms around me, but a blanket's fine." She shrugs her shoulders forward and begins moving away.

My hand that isn't on her neck moves to her waist, holding her in place. "Stop. I will when you are done drinking."

Her lips purse before going in for another drink, and then another—and then another. She doesn't say anything else until the glass is empty. "Now, the chips."

"You said—"

"Eat."

She groans and pops the pringles open and eats. Her motor skills are still shaky, she misses the can twice before finally getting her hand into it.

"How many?" She sounds upset, as if I'm scolding her or putting her in time out.

"However many you can stomach."

Once again, we sit in brief silence while she eats about half of the container. When she finishes, she tries to close it but gives up after three attempts and sets it on the couch. I close it for her, and she shifts her gaze away from mine.

"Max." I move my hand from her waist to her cheek, brushing gently with the back of my fingers. "You are doing incredible. Thank you for listening."

Threading my fingers through her hair, just behind her ear, I pull her into my chest and wrap her tightly in an embrace. I release a soft sigh and close my eyes to savor the calm of this moment. Her quiet presence allows me to feel her heartbeat, a beautiful rhythm that confirms she's alive. And for now, that's all that matters.