30. Max

I don't know how long I've been sitting wrapped up in Draven's arms—chewing on the strawberry Twizzlers he handed me after I finished some Pringles—but my ass is starting to go numb. This isn't how I expected him to be, I figured this was supposed to be something fun for the weekend. Feelings weren't meant to be included.

The soft beating of his heart—the one he says he doesn't have—lulls me into the calmest experience I think I've ever felt in the presence of a man. In seven years, I've never felt safety or strength, but Draven… he gives me all of that. I don't know what's wrong with me, because I don't… feel anything. At least not for anyone except Sasha.

Silence isn't usually where I feel comfortable, mainly because I have so much going on in my head it gets weird. The things Marcella said, I still can't stop them playing on repeat.

"Stop overthinking, Max," he murmurs.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." His thumb and forefinger press to my chin as he angles my face to meet his. "Talk me through how you are feeling."

"Better, I think. Not as dizzy as before, which is great."

"Good. You did so good earlier, Max." Those eyes of his, the most intoxicating color I've ever seen. His voice, even though still relatively deep, is calmer than I think I've heard over the past thirty-six hours of knowing him.

Jesus, thirty-six hours, and I'm already getting attached.

The things Marcella said to me, still floating around in my head. "He's not going to want you." … "You're just another hole for him."

I really need to get a grip. Marcella is right, once everything is over, I'm gone and so will he. So, what's the point in allowing shit like this, when in a few months, he'll be... fuck, I need to breathe. Leaning up, I move my face from his gentle hold and move off his lap.

"Hey," he calls to me.

"You enjoyed it."

"What, Draven?" I retort, my head feels like a bulldozer is driving back and forth over my skull. The throw from his sofa falls away as I take a step to the counter and rest my back against it, rubbing my temples counterclockwise. His robe is drowning me but fuck if it doesn't smell good.

"Nobody could ever love you."

"You're nothing."

"Don't get snippy with me. What's wrong?" His voice remains soft, even though I know inside he's furious. The dizzy feeling is slowly dissipating from my brain and I don't feel the buzzing anymore.

"She..." I look up at him, tears brimming in my eyes, but I refuse to cry. I'm not weak and I won't allow myself to have him see me cry like this. I'm angry, but more than that, I'm fucking pissed. "I saw everything... Draven." Brushing my wet hair back from my face I groan. "All the shit I locked away in my fucked-up head came back and... and I..."

"You can't give him what he needs, Max."

I'm flustered, I can't get my words out and I'm getting hot. If this is what it feels like for people who are regularly on drugs, then fuck that. My heart is beating out of my chest. I look at him and all he's doing is leaning forward, his arms resting on his thighs, waiting patiently for me to speak.

"I know what this is, okay?" I blurt out, a little louder than I initially intended to, yet he doesn't react at all.

"And that's what?" His voice is still as calm as it was during my little drug-fueled panic.

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about." I'm trying not to act ridiculous but the way he's looking at me right now, like I've grown a second head, is infuriating.

"I don't." He shrugs.

He's lying Max.

How could he ever want you when you're tarnished.

Broken.

"Look, I know whatever this is, is just a passing thing for you. I.. I know this is your thing."

"My thing?" He questions, raising an eyebrow at me.

"You find your prey, or whatever, and you fuck them and then it's—"

"Disgusting."

"The drugs are making you believe a lie , Max."

Deciding to ignore him completely, I carry on with my train of thought and words. "You don't have to lie and... I don't know, do all this shit for me."

"You think I do this for everyone?" He points between the both of us.

"Don't you?" I huff out a laugh. "I mean, look at me..." I spread my arms. "I'm a fucking mess, Draven. What they did to me, I'll never get over that." I freeze, staring at him, trying to make him understand. "I-I can't have children; I can't give you what you…" I freeze, I don't even know what I'm trying to give him. "I barely fucking sleep and when I do it's filled with nightmares. I'm, I'm... I'm just…"

I feel the familiar sensation of burning behind my eyes and it makes me even angrier. I lace my fingers through my hair and pull.

"Keep going," he urges.

More images of how I struggled to walk after I left the hospital, and the way I can't tell anyone. I took a chance telling Sasha that night and here I am, hating myself more and more when— "My brain is... is fucked up and I'm—"

"You're what…" His voice filters into the air around me, his calloused hands gently taking hold of mine and removing them from my hair. Through all my panic, I hadn't realized he'd stood up.

"I-I'm—" I shake my head. I can't do this with him. It's not fair and it's not right. In a little over a day, I'll be gone, and so will he and I'll just be like all the other girls he's been with.

"He could never love someone like you."

Marcella's words are unrelenting, they continue to float through my mind. Taking control of every single thought. How can I look at him and feel this kind of jealousy. What is wrong with me? This wasn't supposed to be like this. I'm a fuck, it's ok, I get it.

Yet, when I look into those eyes of his, I forget everything. I forget that I hate every single piece of myself. I forget I'm unlovable. Christ, I don't even want to be loved. The only man who was supposed to love me unconditionally sold me to clear his fucking debt.

"I need to get hold of Sasha," I whisper, cutting him off. I'm not willing to continue the conversation.

He groans, and while I can see it in his eyes that he wants to fight me, he says, "Ok." He grabs his phone from the side and punches a number in.

I hear the ringing.

"Is she with you?" He asks someone on the other end. "I have Max at my trailer, pack her something and bring it with you..." He pauses. "Ok." Outstretching his arm, he hands me the phone.

"Sasha?"

"Hey Maxi-pad..." She sings through the phone.

"Are you ok?" I ask, chewing on the cuff of his robe.

"I'm good, I think the drugs are mostly out of my system now. Troy's been pretty good."

"I didn't see you; I was going to tell you but–"

"I'm sorry, Max, I just decided to go in alone, I couldn't see you but it's fine. Blonde-Shell was busy in the Vanity Room with someone, and I managed to get past relatively quickly."

Could that have been me?

"Are you ok?" Her voice so soft and delicate.

I want to tell her the truth, that I'm not and I haven't been for a very long time. I've been lying for years about how I am mentally broken but instead I just say, "I'm fine, I promise. How long do you think you'll be?"

"Uh, I can get some fresh clothes to you in about half an hour is that ok?" I can hear her smiling through the phone.

"Sure, I'll be... you know where I'll be."

"Love you."

"Ditto," I respond, ending the call and settling it on the table. "Thank you." Biting the skin on the inside of my lip–which I tend to do when I'm nervous–I stand stock still, not really knowing what to do with this. Draven stands still in front of the couch, in nothing but his sweats.

The angles of each muscle on his torso are perfectly constructed, emanating a perfectly sculptured physique. One that he has clearly taken time to maintain.

"Come here." He points in front of him, and I willingly take the few steps. Sitting back down, he pulls me between his legs, fisting the robe at my chest, and pulls me closer, so quickly, I end up falling into his lap.

"Every single thing she said to you, was a lie." Straddling him to get myself comfortable, he slides both hands to rest on my thighs, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a soothing motion. "She doesn't know what I want or need, for that matter." I try to look down, but he tips my chin, making me focus right back at him. "Tell me you understand."

"I understand," I whisper, flicking my eyes down to his tattooed chest.

"What is my name?" I'm surprised by the question.

"Draven."

"If you were anyone else, you would not know that name. I wouldn't have cared to make sure there were no nuts in the snacks after maze one. I wouldn't have treated your ankle. Told you about the mazes. Max, do you understand?"

I nod as I run my fingertips over the tattoo on his peck.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you. Let me see those eyes." My gaze flicks up at his command. "You are my perfection personified, Petit Mouton , and that pisses people like Marcella off. Don't let her get into your head."

I trace the vertical scar on his neck, the strong jawline that has a little stubble and his perfect, kissable lips. The back of his knuckles graze the tender skin on my cheek.

"Kiss me," I ask, barely a whisper but barely even a sentence either.

"Max, you're still—"

"Please," My lower lip quivering as the words wabble from my lips. "I don't… want to beg."

His eyes flick between mine, questioning and fighting with himself if he should. I might still be coming down from my high, but I know what I'm doing.

"Not this time." So, I don't let him think on it too long before I lean in and kiss him softly on the mouth.

Sliding my tongue against the seam of his lips, begging for entry. Silently pleading with him to take my thoughts and lock them away for me. To bring me back to the here and now with the only thing I want to feel: Him.

It doesn't take too much before he opens up, allowing me to kiss him the way I want to. I slide my hands between us, pressing the tips of my fingers against the edge of the elastic waistband of his sweats, before sliding my hand inside.

"Fuck," he hisses against my mouth the moment I rub my hand up and down his shaft. I'm not at all surprised at how hard he is, it only proves he wants me just as badly as I want him.

It's in this moment he moves his hands to my face, cupping my cheeks and pulling me close. It's so gentle it almost feels like a different person. But, even though our time has been short, I would recognize his touch anywhere; in any lifetime and on any plane of this world.

"Is that what you want?" he asks.

"Pull them down," I demand, not willing to break the kiss, in fear he will change his mind and realize he doesn't want me after all. Arching himself up, he drags them down and over his ass. His cock immediately springing free. Untying the belt around the robe I'm wearing; I shrug it off my shoulders.

"Draven?" I speak against his mouth.

" Oui, Petit Mouton? "

"I need you to remove every fingerprint they ever left."

I'm begging now, begging for him to replace every hateful part of my skin. To remove the invisible marks they left there all those years ago. Requesting that a man I barely know, save me in his own way. I might be a fool for thinking this could be something, could've been something, but right now I just need to feel something… anything, other than pain in my heart.

That's when I feel his hand slide between my thighs. I want him more now than I've desired anyone before. This isn't anything else but neediness. The moment his two fingers connect with the swollen little nub between my legs, my throat releases a raspy moan, my mouth opening against his.

"Oh, my G-... Death... Fuck." A thunderous laughter releases from his chest at my change of the word God.

Shrugging out of the robe entirely, the cold air from the open window behind him filters through, kissing at my skin and peaking my nipples. My hands move behind me, and I grip his knees for balance, rolling my hips forward against his fingers. My soft, breathy moans filling the trailer.

"Tell me what you need, baby."

"You... just you... only you, Draven."

I can't stop myself from saying it, not caring after I'm done with the maze, this could be the closest thing to happiness I'll ever experience.

"Fuck, that feels so good." Slowly his fingers slide forward, gliding deep inside me. "Yes," the word leaves my throat before I even register what I'm saying. "You make me feel so good, Draven… fuck!" I can barely speak because the feeling of euphoria is killing me.

Sliding his fingers in and out of me, rubbing that sweet spot as he curves them up. He uses his thumb to keep pressure on my clit. My stomach clenching as I feel myself getting all the more soaked from the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck!" I cry out. "Don't stop, please, Draven."

My moans growing louder than before, when that all too familiar feeling runs down my spine and into the base of my back, swirling around my stomach, I know what's coming and I can't wait for the release.

"That's my girl." Pulling me from my leaning position, he presses his lips to mine, swallowing every single mewl I give him, only him. Knowing nobody will ever make me feel this way again. Begging my mind to record and store the way it feels with him.

"Fuck, fuck... I'm coming!"

A deep growl filters from his throat as he grips my waist, raising me slightly and angling me over his now very swollen cock. Pushing it back slightly and lowering me down on him in one quick thrust. The moment he does, I release everything, squirting all over him.

Both of us moaning in symphony as he stretches me completely. Fucking me through my orgasm and dragging me to the depths of his darkest self.

"Fuck, Max." He breathes against my mouth, lifting me up and down by my hips. "Look how good you're swallowing my cock." Holding onto his shoulders, my body rolls faster.

"That's it baby, use me to get yourself off." His mouth connects with the space between my breasts. Delicately placing kisses on every memory of my dark past and every mark where someone hurt me. Repairing me in his own way. "Take what you need."

Goosebumps prickle over my skin as he begins to kiss up to my neck and over the bite marks from earlier today.

"How long do we have?" he growls, as he pumps himself in and out of me, meeting me thrust for thrust.

"They'll... oh fuck." He moves me slightly faster. Bottoming out with every single thrust, our skin slapping against one another in a beautiful symphony .

"Use your words, Petit Mouton."

"Thirty m-minutes." I manage to get out. "F-fuck, Draven. You feel so good."

"Perfect," he whispers in my ear. Wrapping his arm around my waist and gripping onto my right thigh he stands, walking forward a few steps he situates me on the kitchen counter. I take his face in my hands pulling him toward me.

"I need you to fuck me... right now, mark me as yours–" I don't get to finish my sentence because within a split second he's pounding into me with so much aggression he might end up fucking me through the walls of his trailer.

The glasses in the cupboard clatter against each other with the sheer force of his thrusts.

"Yes," I smile, "right there, right..." My breath catches in my throat; I dig the heels of my feet in the back of his ass.

"Leg up for me baby," he manages to say, pressing the underside of my thigh up. I rest my foot on the edge of the counter, feeling him change his angle completely, while simultaneously spreading my other thigh apart.

"My perfect Max, taking me so damn good." His words of affirmation floating through me and erasing every single hateful word Marcella said. Thrusting deeper and rougher with every move of his hips.

"Ah, ma Petit Mouton , it's like you were fucking made for me." He croons through his grunts that are turning to moans of pleasure, and he truly lets himself go with me. His teeth clenching as he presses his forehead down and against my shoulder. Removing his hand from my thigh, he slams his palm to the wall.

"Fuck!" He shouts and I can't help but laugh.

"Not enough, Big Guy?"

"Never… enough," he chuckles back. Sliding my hands around his waist, I grip his muscular ass to pull him to me, helping him to fuck me harder and deeper. My cunt stretches wider than humanly possible, but the burn of it is incredible. In moments, he's bringing out his own orgasm and I feel him shoot thick spurts of cum inside my channel.

After a few moments of our breathing slowly returning to normal, I place a kiss on Draven's temple. He leans back and brushes my messed up hair from my face.

Gazing to my left, an idea comes to mind when I see a small knife sitting in the sink. I reach down and grab it. "Do you trust me?"

Looking between me and the knife, he simply nods. Pressing the tip of the blade to the skin where he told me his ‘lack of heart' sits, I slowly drag it down an inch, he doesn't even hiss at the pain. Turning the blade to him, I offer Draven the handle, and wait.

He doesn't hesitate to take it from me, and with a grin that makes me clench around him, he nods.

The very tip of the blade presses at the exact same space that I just cut him, mimicking my previous action.

Dancing my fingertips over the mark I just gave him, I whisper, "My scar." Then moving to touch the one he gave me. "Your scar."

The glorious smile he gives me fills my stomach with butterflies.

Taking his hand in mine, I gently place his palm on my heart, covering the new mark from him. Raising my eyes to meet his, I speak softly, " La muerte me beso y me senti como en el cielo... lo que queda demi eres tu."

The smacking of the metal against Draven's trailer door, makes me jump. "Just in time," I scoff.

Draven slowly pulls out of me, pulling his grey sweats back up before he helps me off the counter. He bends to grab the robe from the floor, holding the fabric behind me so I'm able to thread my arms through the holes.

"I'm gonna need another shower," I chuckle, pulling my hair from inside the garment and draping it over one shoulder.

Lifting my jaw to him, he bends at the waist, brushing his lips against mine. "You'll leave my cum right where it is, ma bonne fille." A slight smirk on his face. "Cover yourself up, I don't want Troy seeing what's mine."

Shaking my head, I wrap the thick cotton around myself, tying it tightly at my waist with the belt. Draven then leans over the opening to the door.

"Hey, I uh, I have Max's–"

"It's fine Sasha, you can come in." Stepping aside, she squeezes past Draven, walking over to me and embracing me in a hug. Looking over her shoulder I notice Draven point to Troy. "You, out!"

"Alright, Jesus." Troy steps back down the trailer steps and they clang under his feet. Sasha and I sit cross legged on his sofa, while Draven strides into the back room.

"Are you ok?" she asks, concern on her face .

"I'm ok, just tired I guess." I shrug, talking about him while he's still in here seems a bit weird. A moment later, he strides out wearing a hoodie to match his sweats. Picking up his phone, knife, and a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Where are you going?" The words coming out a little more needy than I intended.

What the fuck is wrong with you Max?

"I have something to do."

"Ok." I shrug.

"I'll be less than thirty minutes." Leaning down, he kisses me briefly on the lips.

"Bring me a gift?" I ask with a smirk, not exactly the place to bring back a gift, but he's creative.

Rolling his eyes, he chuckles, "Sure. One question though, did Dobby touch you?"

I press my lips into a tight line, swallowing. "He… only brought me to her."

A heavy sigh releases from his nose, and he nods. Walking to the door of his trailer, the flooring creaking beneath him. Taking hold of the handle, he takes one final look back at me. "Shade will be outside, don't leave or open this door until I get back."

Saluting him, I smile. "Sir, yes sir." Shaking his head, he takes the few steps down and out of his trailer, closing the door behind him. His piercing whistle filters through from the outside as he calls to Shade.

"So, what's with you guys?" Sasha nudges me playfully. "You seem pretty close."

"It's nothing." Taking the bag from her I walk into the back. Unzipping the duffel, I lift my fresh underwear and socks from inside before shucking off Draven's robe .

"Girl, the way he looked at you just then, that's not nothing," she chides, leaning against the door frame as I get ready. I know she's watching, waiting for me to say something, but I can't. Two days, actually, it's not even that yet. How can I be feeling this type of way already.

"Yeah, well... after maze five. It's done." I jump up and down, wiggling into my fresh pair of sports leggings. I feel her hands on my shoulders, turning me to face her.

"What's wrong, why are you fighting this?" Tilting her head, the space between her brows pinches slightly. Eyes flicking over my face as she waits for an answer.

"I... shit." I exhale, sitting on the edge of his bed. "I told him Sasha, about everything."

"Oh sweetie." The bed dips beside me and she pulls my head into her lap. "What did he say?" I can't tell her he looked me up, she would lose her shit. Even I know it's wrong but it's out there now, no point making it a bigger thing than it needs to be.

"Nothing, I went straight into the maze after, and Blonde-Shell was saying everything I was thinking. She overheard us too."

"Did you tell him who?" She asks, softly brushing my hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

"No... I can't and you know that." Fuck, what's wrong with me, why the fuck do I keep wanting to cry. I'll blame the come down from the ketamine. "I signed the NDA, if anyone finds out I broke that, I'm fucked. My brother pays for everything until I get out of med school. The little money I do have stashed away is so I can take care of myself when I finish my studies."

Moving beyond what I told Draven, I continue .

"Regardless of what you think you saw from him. Who's going to want someone like me Sash?" I take a deep breath, sitting up. My eyeline straight into my lap. "I'm covered in scars—"

"So is he, I've seen the ones on his neck."

"I'm fucked up." I look at her.

Sasha chuckles. "The man works at a carnival that tortures people. I'd say you're both pretty fucked up."

"What if he wants–"

"Babies? Yeah, he doesn't strike me as the type to want kids, the man can barely handle you." She laughs, brushing her arm against mine and I can't help but join her in laughing. "I don't see him chasing after a crotch goblin in the future."

"Accurate." Taking a deep breath, I release it slowly and continue, "It's been like thirty-six hours, there's no way there's anything more between us than this weekend. Blonde-Shell, may have been right about one thing–"

"Max," Sasha stands up. "Fuck her, and the horse she rode in on. If you like him, tell him for God's sake. The past seven years, all you've done is lock yourself away. This is the most excited and happy I've seen you in a while. Especially in the presence of a man." Cupping my face, she smiles. "So what if the guy you might like is a fucking nutcase. At least you have the real-life book boyfriend thing going on." She pairs her wink with a toothy grin.

I'm silent for a moment, throwing on the t-shirt and fresh black hoodie, and my mind thinks back to what happened between us earlier.

I hope he doesn't think I slept with him because I was still high.

Shit, I didn't really think about how that would look to him. I'll make a mental note to tell him when he gets back. Sasha plops down next to me on the bed while I'm pulling on a fresh pair of white tube socks.

"He was looking at me some type of way, wasn't he?" I roll my lips together, desperately trying to keep my cool.

Swaying on the bed, she leans into me. "Girl, he was looking at you like you were the last thing in this world for him. But shit, if you're too blind to see it, I'll take him."

"Sasha!" I throw a soft pillow at her.

"Tell me," she holds the pillow in front of her stomach, "does he fuck as good as he looks?"

Tapping my chin in mockery, I can't hold the way my face blushes. "Better!" I howl, covering my face and burying myself into my hands. "And Troy?" I raise my eyebrow at her.

"Oh no, we are not talking about me and him. There-"

"So, you're telling me , you haven't fucked him already, hm?" Her silence is answer enough, I drag her by the wrist, and back onto the bed where I burst out laughing. "I fucking knew it," I shout.

"Whatever, it's the red hair and the accent."

"You know that's fake right?"

"The hair?" She looks at me in shock and I burst out laughing again, my chest shaking as laughter fills my body.

"No, the accent."

Grasping her chest, she sighs heavily. "Max, I thought I was fucking a box dye red head for a second." I smack her on the arm as we both descend even further into hysterical fits of laughter and while we lay there, screaming about her previous statement, I realize she's right.

Seven years is long enough to keep people out.