38. Max

Two hours before maze five

N ever in my wildest thoughts, did I imagine joining Draven in torturing someone. Watching the way Draven hurt him... for me . Offering me the kill, showing me where the best places were to punish him. The way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered to him in that moment.

It all felt incredible—the sensation of popping his eyes out of their sockets and the feeling that washed over me when I did it.

I need to find a way, some way, to repay him for everything he has done for me since we became... close, for lack of a better word. I never expected him, but at the same time I feel extremely lucky I have him. Without him, I don't know if I would've made it out of maze three alive. He gives me a strength I thought I lost and looking down on Po and his suffering, I felt more alive, and more powerful in that moment than I ever thought I could.

The best part? Feeding a two-hundred-pound wolf someone's dick.

The thrum of pain radiating from my ribs and shoulder make me believe my rotator cuff might be torn. The force of Po dislocating it at the joint, is a distant memory now. Draven is the epitome of insanity, I get that. I'm under no delusion I've fallen for a fucking nutcase.

Oh, so we're just going to admit that to ourselves now then.

Great, nice one Max.

The craziest part is it hasn't even been two days. This is the kind of shit I laughed at when the girls at University would tell me how much they were in love, after only a couple of days, and here I am, walking around with a seven-foot giant as my protector and I've gone and… well, you know.

Now, I don't say that word and I never will. Love isn't just something you say or throw about to anyone and everyone. It's something you feel, it's in your actions, and what you give. Without the necessity of the spoken word.

In the space of two days, he has given me strength, safety, and some amazing fucking sex too. He has made me feel like I'm not messed up and I'm not... alone. After everything he has been through with Alyson, how her loss broke him in the most irrevocable way possible, he's still here. Fighting to be, the same way I am .

It's not completely lost on me that Draven lost his sister seven years ago, around the same time I nearly took my life. I don't believe in all that fate bullshit, but it is a crazy coincidence.

Draven pushes the maze door open with his good arm, nodding for me to go first. I walk under it and step out into the cold night air. The first thing I notice is Troy, pacing back and forth in front of the maze. Panic stricken, until he looks up noticing us both.

"Fuck!" he curses, walking over to me, cupping my cheeks. Draven growls behind me, but says nothing. "We all heard gunshots; are you ok? Both of you?"

"I'm fine, where's Sasha?" She's more important right now.

"I took her to the safe zone where one of our attendees is looking at her." Pulling me into a tight hug, I immediately wince, bringing my good shoulder up to my ear and shrugging from his hold.

Troy instantly pulls away. "What the fuck happened?" I look up at my Big Guy, trying my hardest not to laugh at the look on his face at Troys engagement with me. Laughter is the last thing I should be doing after what I was just subjected to, what we just did, but here we are.

"The Big Guy got shot saving the damsel in distress. They need to check him out first."

The grimace that comes from Troy is slightly concerning, "When I say we don't have medical staff, I truly mean that. We aren't really equipped for gunshot wounds."

"I'm fine," Draven says gruffly.

"You aren't fine," I go to poke at his arm, and he slowly leans away.

"Is Po…" Troy hesitates to ask his full question .

"You don't want to go in there," I look to him, "trust me." His eyeline moves to look behind us at the maze. "Think you can grab me a few things?" I ask, bringing his attention back to me. "I'll take care of my Big Guy."

The smile that Troy gives me is quite genuine. "Sure, what do you need?"

"I'm going to need saline, packing gauze and some long forceps." I begin to walk, Draven following beside me, his hand coming to rest on my lower back. "I also need some waterproof dressing too." I look to Troy, as he keeps up the pace.

My shoulder is killing me but all I can think about is getting Draven home—I mean back to the rental—and clean him up.

"I know someone who has all that, I'll go grab it. Where do you need me to bring it?"

Draven answers, "Trailer."

While I nearly simultaneously say, "My rental".

Troy looks between us. "Okaaay, so which one? Cause I'm not walking around all—"

"My rental." I cut him off. "Everything's bigger in there to accommodate this guy." Pointing my thumb over my shoulder.

Draven huffs beside me, his left hand covering the bullet wound on his right shoulder.

I need to get that out and the wound cleaned before infection sets in.

My main priority is him.

Sure, I feel like absolute shit right now, but I haven't been shot. Twice. I have two hours before I need to be back here for the final maze. The maze I need to finish before midnight, so I can get my one request.

"Can you meet us there?" I ask Troy.

"Sure, I'll see you in thirty. "

With that, he departs from us. Shade bounds up beside me, rubbing his snout against my hand. "You did so good in there boy," I praise him, scratching the underside of his ear.

Draven clicks his tongue. " Rentrer chez soi. " And with that, Shade bounds off. The few people left, shrieking and gasping at the wolf running by.

"Let's get you back to my house so we can sort you out." I wrap my arm around his lower back, trying my best to support him. Not that he really needs it, but maybe it's more for me than him. I look up at him, his face deep in thought and not a single expression evident on it.

Troy met us where I asked. Practically just as we were about to walk in the front door, handing me pretty much everything I needed. He even went by Draven's place to grab him some fresh clothes. The guy is a sweetheart really.

He informed me Sasha will be staying with him until the morning and Deck was hitching a ride with one of the attendees for some late-night fun. I'm just glad he hasn't seen me or Sasha. Leading Draven into my room, I place the medical supplies on the dressing table and turn to face him.

Draven's height alone is the most intimidating thing about him when you see him for the first time, but his actions, they're what you should be afraid of.

"Take your clothes off. "

Looking down at me, the corner of his mouth curves sarcastically. "I don't think either of us are in the best shape for—"

Placing my hands on my hips, I sigh, "Let's not make jokes."

"For once…" he mutters.

"I need to take care of you. So can you please just do as I ask?"

He sighs, "Max—"

"Draven," I parrot sarcastically, with a little bit more of a masculine tone to my voice.

"Let me deal with you first. You are—"

Holding my hand up in front of him, he stops talking. "If you tell me I'm more important than two gunshot wounds, you're insane."

"I'm fine." He protests, raising his hand to brush his knuckles across my cheek and for a split second, I forget I'm not supposed to be getting sexually excited.

Goddamn this man.

Realizing what he's playing at, I jerk my head back from his grasp and slap his hand away. "Damn it, Draven!" I snap. "You're not fucking fine though, are you?"

"It's not the first time I've been shot, Petit Mouton ."

"And it won't be the last if you carry on," I say, while brushing the hair from my face.

A soft chuckle leaves his throat. "Is that a threat? Did you just threaten to shoot me?"

I look up at him. "Do you think this is funny?" I question, crossing my arms in front of my chest. Pain radiating through my shoulder, but I hide it the best I can. "You were shot Draven, twice, and the longer I allow the bullets to fester in the skin, the bigger chance they will become infected and cause sepsis. So, do me a favor," I raise my hand and rip the necklace from my throat. Turning his hand over and placing it in his palm. "Sit!" I snap, pointing to the bed behind him. "I need to grab something. Top off, on the bed… now." My voice demanding all while looking in his eyes.

Is this how he feels with me, when I refuse to listen to him?

Paybacks a bitch.

"As you wish, nurse."

Walking from the room, I hear him groan and that's the confirmation he's listened to what I said. Fast pacing it to the kitchen, I quickly wash my hands and open the fridge and pull out the small bottle of vodka.

The second I walk back into the bedroom, I stop for a split second and take him in. Draven is sat on the edge of the bed, legs wide as he lays out the medical implements beside him. I unscrew the bottle cap and throw it behind me. Handing the bottle to him, I smile.

"Drink."

He grabs the neck of the bottle with his good arm, bringing it to his lips and takes a quick swig.

Taking it back from him, I immediately pour it over the bullet wound and he hisses.

"Fuck!" Moving his shoulder from the flow of alcohol.

"Not the first time." I wag my head from side to side, throwing his previous words back at him mockingly.

"Funny," he retorts, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me closer to him. Leaning up, he presses a soft kiss to my lips, and I can't help groaning into his mouth.

Pulling back, I narrow my eyes. Pointing my finger in his face I try to hold my smile in. "No distractions." Picking up the saline solution from the bed, I tear it open and pour it over both wounds. "This is going to hurt, so please sit still. I need to concentrate."

"Anything for you," he mumbles under his breath. Silence fills the room as I begin to work. I remove the plastic forceps from the packaging and press my hand to his shoulder.

"First one." I wink.

Leaning in, I push them into the wound, as far as they can go, feeling his hand grip the fabric of my shirt tightly, I realize I might need a way to distract him from the pain while I work.

Fresh blood pumps from the wound as I rummage around looking for the bullet. If this was a through and through it would've been so much easier. But considering he's a fucking monster in size, it's stuck in there.

Briefly biting the skin on the inside of my mouth, I debate if this is the right time to tell him about everything the best I can.

Fuck it.

"I was five, the first time my father beat me." I don't know why I decided to start with that, I just did. I feel like I need him to understand why, even though I always want him around me, I don't need him to take care of me. "Hold here," I take his free hand and press it to his peck and gesture for him to pull it taught.

"Continue," he says through gritted teeth.

Taking a deep breath, I release it slowly. "He came home from a night out with his drinking buddies, where he lost all of his money in a casino. My mother wasn't there, she was out drinking somewhere; my older brother was at a friend's house, and I was the only good punching bag available I guess." After quickly wiping the blood from my hand on my black leggings, I return to tweezing out the bullet.

"I don't remember much after that. Just that I woke up in the hospital with a broken wrist and a black eye. I told the Doctors I fell and after that, he never stopped." The moment the forceps hit the bullet, I squeeze and slowly begin to drag it from the gaping hole.

"Mother—" Growling, his face screws up as it pops from the skin with a squelch, and I drop it into my palm. "—fucker."

I then clean it to make sure that nothing might have fragmented off. After I'm sure that everything looks ok, I drop it on the bed and smile down at him.

"One more left." I move to the second bullet hole and repeat the process again. This one much easier and quicker to find. "Pass me the packing gauze please."

Placing the tweezers onto the bed, I hold out my hand and pour the rest of the saline solution over his chest . Removing the gauze from the cardboard packaging, I continue.

"The older I got, the worse the beatings became. Cigar burns were added then, and one time when I was late home from school once—"

"Mother?" he interrupts me.

"An alcoholic, Draven." I begin poking the packing gauze into the injury, my eyes flicking to him. His gaze watching me incessantly. I continue working and carry on. "She was rarely home, and my brother was far too busy to notice."

A sick feeling enters my stomach, but I fight the urge to stop talking. I need this, I need him to know everything up until that point .

"By the time I was eighteen, my father had lost everything, and he was about to lose his home too. Gambling, alcohol, and drugs took over his life and nothing else mattered. At that point, my brother was twenty-eight and I'd been living with him since I was sixteen." Moving to pack the second bullet wound, my words begin to get tighter in my throat.

"On my eighteenth birthday, I attended a frat party on campus and ended up blackout drunk. When I woke up," I pause, swallowing thickly, "I didn't even know where I was. Turns out my father, to relieve his gambling debt and get his home back, had sold me to someone high up."

"Who?" Is all he asks me.

Shaking my head, I offer him a sad smile as I tear the gauze packet open. I ignore the question because I can't tell him. If I tell him, I know what he will do, and this is mine. This is for me. I need to win this and avenge myself, save myself even, from this torment I've suffered with for so long.

"Three broken ribs, broken collarbone and three broken fingers." I stick the waterproof gauze over the bullet wound. "Fractured orbital bone and broken pelvis, with a bleed on the brain. Not to mention all the scars where they cut me." Clearing my throat, I refuse to look at him as I apply the final strip of gauze to his second bullet wound. "The doctor told me I was so messed up the only option was a full hysterectomy or death from infection." I huff out a laugh. "They thought I was some fucked up crack whore, all because of the level of opioids in my system."

Taking hold of his hand, I pull him up from the bed best I can and lead him toward the bathroom in silence. My back is killing me and the shit Po did will only add to the already awful looking body I have.

Like it makes any difference.

Closing the bathroom door, Draven stands there, watching me quietly. Lucky the shower here is walk in, so it's fucking huge, big enough to fit both of us.

"You going to let me shower alone?" I smile.

Smirking, he begins to follow suit, stripping the rest of his clothes off in sync with me. Placing them in a pile on the bathroom counter, I lean over and turn the knob. The spray of cold water from the shower head above makes me flinch.

I'm unsure if Draven understands it flashed a memory of being waterboarded, because his large hand takes the back of my neck and pulls me slightly closer.

"It's fine, petit mouton , I'm here."

I know he is... but hearing him say it does something to me. Damn him for making me feel this way.

After a moment, the water is hot enough and I step under it.

As the water hits the welts on my back, I try my hardest to stay strong and just allow the pain to wash over me in waves. Squeezing some shower gel into my hands, I rub them together and press it to his shoulder and chest, washing off the dried blood from his perfectly inked skin.

The water pooling at my feet flows red, Po's blood sliding down our bodies and swirling into the drain below. While I'm watching him, we stand there in complete silence for a moment, almost as if he's waiting for me to continue.

Brushing my sopping wet hair from my face, I wash the upper half of his body, while he caresses my cheeks. " I just…" the words getting stuck in my throat, the back of my eyes burning with years of unshed tears.

"Say it, Petit Mouton. Tell me." Coaxing the words from me so gently.

"Nothing and nobody saved me, so I had to do it myself. That's why I want to finish this maze. I… I need to."

"Whatever you need baby, I'll give it to you on a silver fucking platter."

"It's not that… I know you would." I lean in and kiss his chest. "I need to do this for me." The moment I look up at him, I see the briefest of nods, but I know—with the way he is—he doesn't intend to let me do this alone and that's what scares me.

I can't hold the words in my throat, they fall out even though I'm angry for my heart giving in. The rush of feelings that hit me every single time I'm in his presence scares the Hell out of me.

I came here to rectify what was done to me, not to meet someone who might, no not might, who has given me something back I never knew I lost.

"I've never… loved…" even saying the word makes me shiver, "anyone in my life, Draven. The two people who were meant to love me, without question, never did. I've hated myself for years, felt disgusted looking at myself in the mirror, because I was a vision of everything I hated about them. Hoping one day I could… end everything."

The backs of my eyes begin to burn even harsher, just like wildfire, spreading to the inside of my nostrils. But I still refuse to shed a tear for them, for the love they never gave me.

"But…" I search his eyes, unsure of what I'm even saying at this point. "Something about you, and who you are…" I pause, not able to look in his eyes anymore, I drag my gaze from his.

Dropping my head, covering my face with both my hands because the fear I have of hiding myself and my feelings is finally filling to the brim. He gently pulls my hands from my face.

"Baby…" Just that word, opens every ounce of feeling I could ever salvage. "Never hide from me."

I search his face, the water pouring over us from above. Leaning forward, I press my forehead to his chest. My nerves plummeting to my stomach because I wish I could say those words to better help him understand what I mean, but I can't.

I hate the four-letter word. It wastes time and ruins everything. In this life, people throw it around and never really mean it. Love is supposed to be something that can never be penetrated by the issues and problems of others. Yet no matter how hard we try; love is forever tainted with the possibility of pain.

So instead, I settle for, "Y-you, make me feel a little more alive… and a lot less... lost."

The moment those words leave my lips, I finally allow the tears to fall. The ones I've been holding in since I was five. The tears I thought dried up but here they are, falling for him. The moment I begin to sob, Draven curves his hands to my thighs and lifts me up, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

The pain that radiates throughout my entire body fights for ownership over the sensation of bliss I get when he cradles me close. I only want to feel him, so succumbing to it is easy.