Val breathed in as she regained consciousness and opened her eyes. Max's warm, hard body lay motionless on top of her. He was still in his trance. She liked his weight on her, like a rock keeping her from floating away. Her arms tightened around him, and she ran her fingers through his fine hair. The feel of him calmed her, counteracted the horrible image of him dying over and over again. She focused on the last part of her vision, holding hands with him as they leapt into the waters of a tropical paradise. It meant there was a future where he lived, with her. She wouldn't let him go again.

Max stirred and made a little gasp as his eyes opened. He pushed himself up to look at Val, reading her face for signs of distress. When he saw none, he relaxed and let his head fall back to the pillow. He laced his fingers through hers and nuzzled her neck.

"I ruined taco night," he mumbled into her skin.

She laughed. "It'll come again next week." Thank G.o.d he didn't ask her what she'd seen.

He pulled his head back and touched a spot below her ear. "What's this?"

s.h.i.t, the scar. There was no point in lying about it. "Lucien put it there when I was unconscious, probably to administer whatever drug he'd used to wipe my memory."

She felt his whole body stiffen. His eyes boiled with the rage she'd seen at the Mountain Lodge. "That f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I'll kill him."

She touched her forehead to his and sighed. "Max, please."

"You expect me to let it go?"

"No, but-"

"Have you?"

No, she hadn't let it go. She never would. But she wouldn't risk Max's life for revenge, now that her visions had shown her what would happen if she tried. "I told the police. They're handling it."

"Lucien's still walking free. I saw him at the art museum."

"That's who you beat up?" Max hadn't brought up the a.s.sault during her visits to the psych ward, and she hadn't pushed. The news reports hadn't released the name of Max's "victim," either, but if Lucien was there, it must've been him.

Max exhaled. "Yeah."

She kissed the tip of his nose. "Thanks."

Finally he relaxed, though a deep frown still cut across his face.

"Now that Margaret's dead, the police have no choice but to focus on finding her killer. The trail will eventually lead them to Lucien."

"They never found my father's killer."

Val flinched. "That was different."

"How?"

"For one thing, Lucien deliberately tortured and killed someone, probably not for the first time. He's got a lab somewhere. And at least a few people know he's involved in the Blue Serpent cult. He's good at covering his tracks, but he's still got tracks for the police to follow."

Max scoffed. "If the police were competent, I'd be in prison right now."

She heard the familiar notes of shame in his voice. He still felt guilty for killing his father, after everything that man did to him. She didn't feel guilty about killing Norman Barrister, nor would she feel guilty about killing anyone else who deserved it. Despite what he thought of himself, he had a bigger heart than she did. "I've got...friends on the police force helping me. If they throw Lucien in prison for Margaret's murder, that's justice enough for me."

Max's face softened. He stroked her cheek and searched her eyes with his, warm hazel surrounding brilliant green filling her vision. "I wish you wouldn't be so forgiving."

"It's not about forgiveness. It's about moving on with our lives."

She hugged him and nestled her head in the crux of his neck. If he couldn't forgive himself for his father or for Abby, then he could at least move on with her and build enough happy memories to outnumber the bad ones. There'd be time enough to nail Lucien, after they put each other back together. In fact, the sooner the better.

"Can we go to Fiji?" Val asked. Maybe the pool they'd jumped into in her vision was in Fiji. She could make it Fiji.

"Of course," he said, a renewed lightness in his voice. He'd asked her to go to Fiji with him several times when they'd been on the run last year. She'd turned him down each time, preferring instead to face their enemies. "When?"

"Today."

His chest bounced against hers as he chuckled. "I don't own a private jet, so that might be tough. And I need to get my pa.s.sport from the condo, and Abby told Michael she'd need a week to move her things out, but I can probably coordinate a time to get in sooner-"

"Whatever. As soon as possible."

"Okay." He ran a piece of her hair through his thumb and forefinger. "Can we get married in Fiji?"

He'd said it as if suggesting where they should eat dinner, the question flowing from his lips as a natural consequence of how they felt about each other, no posturing or buildup or pomp and circ.u.mstance necessary. As she considered her answer, she did, however, feel his heart quicken. He'd been engaged to someone else just a few days ago-to the wrong woman, which was partly Val's fault. All this time he should've been with her. It was what they wanted-the people who called themselves Northwalk-but also what she wanted, and what Max wanted. If she could choose for the pool from her vision to be in Fiji, why not choose to wear the wedding rings, too? She and Max didn't need to have children.

She lifted her head and met his gaze. "I'd love to get married in Fiji."

Max gave her a smile that lit up his whole face, radiating pure joy in a way she hadn't seen him do since the boathouse. He laughed and kissed her, pulling her to him with the enthusiasm of a man who couldn't wait to make love to his future wife. She melted with his touch as he hardened against her, her body a puddle of wetness aching to accept him, her desire for him nearly unbearable. A moan escaped her chest as he slipped inside her again. He moved through her, slow and deliberate, the need for release less acute now that they'd finally had each other after months apart. Through the fog of love that consumed her, she heard Toby bark. Then she noticed the bedroom door.

"Oh s.h.i.t, stop." She slapped Max's back. "Stop."

He stopped, hot puffs of breath ruffling her hair as he panted. "What?"

"The bedroom door is open."

He looked behind him to see the wide-open door with a view of the top of the stairs. "Huh. Must've been like that the whole time."

She palmed her forehead. "s.h.i.t. Stacey probably heard everything. She could have seen us if she came up here."

Max's head fell into her chest and he laughed.

"Like she doesn't have enough reasons to be p.i.s.sed at me. I'm the worst roommate ever."

He laughed harder.

"Just shut the f.u.c.king door, will you?"

He curbed his laughter and reluctantly peeled himself off her, then hopped from the bed and trotted to the door. Watching his naked body move across the room, toned muscles rippling underneath brown skin like Michelangelo come to life, she thought she'd never seen a more beautiful man.

He poked his head into the hallway. "I don't hear anything. I think she's gone." Over his shoulder he added, "I'm going to let Toby out."

Before Val could protest that he shouldn't go down there completely naked, especially with reporters lurking outside, he pulled on his underwear and disappeared out the door. He'd always been comfortable with his body-too comfortable, a more modest person might say-but at least he'd had the sense to cover his erect p.e.n.i.s.

G.o.d, the things he could do with that c.o.c.k...She burned for him to be inside her again, and stay there forever. Val could only imagine the o.r.g.a.s.ms he gave other women. Their prophetic abilities meant they could never completely satisfy each other. Not the way other people did anyway.

A minute later he reappeared and shut the door behind him. "Yup, she's gone. Left Toby a bowl of taco sh.e.l.ls, though. Nice of her."

Val would worry about appeasing Stacey later. She stood and met Max at the door's threshold, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him. He leaned into her; she felt the smile on his lips, the hardness still in his underwear. She snapped the elastic band of his boxers.

"How's your endurance?" she asked.

"s.h.i.tty, with you."

Val yanked down his underwear and dropped to her knees. She kissed the scar a couple of inches above his groin, the spot where Sten shot him. "Tell me when to stop."

Max gasped when she took the full length of him into her mouth. He tasted like she remembered-musky, salty, hot, and something else she guessed was her own taste. Delicious. She glided her lips up and down his shaft, lingering on the tip as she ran her hands between his legs, then around his hard thighs to cup his perfect a.s.s. He stroked her hair, then clutched a fistful as his breath became ragged. His c.o.c.k throbbed, ready to burst in her mouth. If he came while standing, he'd collapse and likely hurt himself, or hurt her if he fell on top of her. She wondered if he'd risk it. A moment later she got her answer.

"Okay, stop," he said, breathing hard. He laughed. "f.u.c.k, Val."

She gave him an impish smile. "That was like eight minutes."

Max mirrored her grin. "Let's see you do better."

He pulled Val to her feet and led her to the bathroom, where he turned on the shower faucet and guided her into the stall. She breathed in the steam that enveloped the room, a match for the thick heat already coursing through her veins, the hot water making the outside of her body as slick as her insides. Max pinned her back against the shower wall and kissed her rougher than usual, his broad shoulders tense, the steel rod pressed against her thigh a testament to the fire she'd stoked, one he barely contained. His hand glided down the path of water that ran from her torso to between her legs, and he slipped his fingers deep inside her. She moaned with each stroke, her whole body moving to his rhythm, as if she were a marionette he delighted in making dance with a mere jerk of his hand. Val bit her lip, then bit his shoulder to keep the end from coming. Her whole body quivered for release, but she wouldn't let him win.

With his hand still inside her, he moved down her body and swept his tongue across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, sucking the firm nipples as he bit them lightly. She dug her nails into his shoulders and whimpered, knowing she probably hurt him but unable to stop herself. The pleasure was so intense she almost cried. When he knelt and replaced his fingers with his tongue, she couldn't hold out any longer.

"Stop stop stop!"

Her body teetering on the precipice of climax, Max stopped. He looked up at her and grinned. It seemed a little evil now, the things that mouth could do.

"Oh my G.o.d," she muttered as her chest heaved.

"Six minutes and two seconds."

"It was not! How would you even know?"

"I was counting."

"Bulls.h.i.t." Not even a math prodigy like Max could keep time in his head. Well, maybe he could. In any case, it hadn't felt like a mere six minutes to her. It had been an eternity, yet also the blink of an eye.

He rose and embraced her. They kissed under the shower head and gathered their strength, two fighters clinching in the middle of a heated bout. When Val felt ready for another round, she wrapped her leg around his waist. In an instance Max grabbed her other leg and hoisted her up. Val slid down onto him as he pushed into her, fanning her flames again. She clutched his wet hair, arms locked around his neck, desperate to withstand his onslaught. Don't come, don't come...

His breath burned her ear in time with his thrusts, growing hotter and stronger as his hips picked up speed and his muscles tightened. Then all at once he stopped. He threw up an arm and leaned against the wall, chest heaving into hers. His head collapsed onto her shoulder. She almost begged him to continue, but of course they couldn't here. The shower had too much potential for serious injury if they both pa.s.sed out, or if he pa.s.sed out holding her. The only way it worked was if she came first, but he was closer. She'd won this round.

Suddenly giddy, she buried her head in his neck and laughed like a h.o.r.n.y teenager on an X-rated Tilt-A-Whirl ride. She loved this game. "Three minutes," she said after she'd caught her breath.

"You just made that up."

She had. "Don't be a sore loser, Max." She giggled. "A sore, blue-balled loser."

He snickered and cut the water. "We'll see about that."

Val yelped when he bear-hugged her legs, scooped her up, and threw her over his shoulder. Both of them still wet and dripping, he marched back to the bedroom and dropped her onto the mattress. He seized her legs and yanked her to the edge of the bed, then slammed into her from where he stood. His eyes were wild and his body hard, thighs and chest clenching and unclenching with each frantic push to be as deep inside her as possible. With every thrust he made her scream. Like a tidal wave he crashed over her, consuming everything in his path, and before she could beg for relief, an o.r.g.a.s.m tore her away- I'm running down a corridor of concrete inlaid with metal doors. As I reach a corner, I slow and raise my gun. My heart pounds against my rib cage. I wheel around the corner and recognize Lucien's back in a white lab coat, scrambling away from me. I almost shoot him before I realize he's dragging someone with him, and that person is Max.

"Stop!" I say.

Lucien spins to face me, holding Max in front of him as a human shield. Max thrashes and tries to fight back, but he's pale and sweaty, his movements weak. He looks like he can barely stand. Lucien holds a gun to Max's head.

"You're going to let me leave," he says.

From behind me the sound of police sirens wafts through the corridor, getting louder.

"Let him go." My voice quavers. I know this won't end well.

"You know, you and he don't technically need to be alive to make your babies. I have your eggs, I have his sperm. That is all that's required. They will forgive me eventually."

My hands are shaking. He has my eggs?

"Let me leave now and I will send him back to you when I'm finished with him."

I know he's lying. He won't let Max go. Even if he's not, it's a deal I can't take. Whatever he plans to do to Max, I'm sure Max would rather be dead. My mind races to think of another option. I can lie, too.

"Fine," I say. I lower my gun and pretend to acquiesce. "Leave him at-"

Lucien shoots me in the chest. I drop to the floor. Blood fills my lungs and I can't breathe. My vision fades. I hear Max screaming- Blur.

"Get up!" Sten yells in my face as sirens blare all around us. "G.o.ddammit, Shepherd, GET UP!"

I struggle to stand but my legs won't hold my weight. Blood trickles down my forehead and into my eyes. I can't get up.

Sten is frantic. He pulls on my arm but can't drag me far. He's limping. Specs of blood splatter his coat.

"Get up-" Sten's head jerks sideways as a bullet strikes his temple.

Blur.

I'm standing on the balcony of Max's house, the balcony where he threw his father to his death. The sky is overcast, the water is black. All the gla.s.s is cracked and trash is strewn everywhere. At my feet I see a weathered newspaper with a headline that reads: "President Barrister Declares War." Before I can check the date or read the article, the brightest light I've ever seen bursts in the sky and mushrooms upward. I hear and feel a rumbling that grows louder, shattering the gla.s.s around me, until a shock wave hits and I'm engulfed in flames- Blur.

"Nah, I don't eat leftovers." Sten tosses the doggie bag of food in the trash next to our opulent hotel bed.

I pop off my shoes. My feet ache. "Then why'd you even ask to have it bagged?"

"Because kids in Africa are starving, Shepherd." He takes off his gun holster and drops it on the dresser. I take mine off and set it next to his, eyeing the old wedding ring I still wear for some reason. A deep, crushing sadness pulses through me before I'm able to suppress it. He's gone.

Poking a spot on my chest, I flinch when I touch a bruise. I prefer physical pain to the pain of memories.

He notices my grimace. "What?"

I strip off my shirt, revealing a fresh patch of black and blue on my rib cage. "One of the bodyguards kicked me."

Sten gathers a handful of ice from a bucket next to the minibar. He holds it out like he's going to give it to me, but instead drops it into a gla.s.s, uncaps a tiny bottle of whiskey, and dumps the liquor on top.

"Don't be a baby," he says and takes a sip.

I roll my eyes and turn to walk away. He grabs my arm and yanks me flush against him, his lips a couple of inches from mine. Now I'm hot.