“Half-breeds are highly susceptible to congenital defects. Although, if she were a mortal child, she wouldn’t have survived. Her dragon side is very strong, but you made the right decision flying her here. A minute later, and it would’ve been impossible to restart her heart. You saved your daughter’s life.” The doctor patted Max’s hand gently before standing. “The next few hours will be critical.”
“Can I see her?” Max asked.
“Not yet.” The doctor rubbed her hands in an automatic gesture. “It’s going to be a long night. You could go home—”
Max vehemently shook his head. “I won’t leave.”
Sighing, the doctor nodded. “I’ll keep you informed.”
As the doctor left, Vivienne grabbed Max’s hands in hers. “You saved Amber Rose.”
“What if it’s not enough?” Max’s eyes were haunted. The usually bright amber of his irises was now dull. “What if it was all for nothing?”
“Don’t think like that.” Vivienne understood his despair, but she wouldn’t let him wallow in pain. “You did everything you could. Your baby is alive because you acted promptly.” Not everyone could say that. Vivienne couldn’t. “And she is in the best shifter hospital in the country.”
Wilson detached himself from the wall. “She’s your daughter, she’ll pull through. You’ll see,” he said, crouching in front of Max.
“Why her?” Max asked. “She’s so little.”
“Bad things happen to good people,” Wilson said. “Even to sweet angels like my goddaughter.”
Vivienne was immediately glad for Wilson’s presence.
Max shut his eyes, but when he looked back at his friend, his expression was less haunted. “I should be the one to decide who’s going to be my daughter’s godfather, don’t you think?” he said with a wane smile, but a smile nonetheless.
“Who else did you have in mind?” Wilson raised a brow.
“Someone responsible?” Max said, his lips quirking up.
Bringing his hand to his heart, Wilson turned to Vivienne. “I’ll let you know that, between the two of us, I am the responsible one.”
“Right.” Max scoffed.
Wilson stood and folded his arms across his elegant black jacket. “Do you want me to tell her about that time when we were eleven and you dropped an entire bag of frogs into the PE teacher’s desk drawer?”
“Not the frogs again.” Max let out an exasperated sigh, but his mood was lighter and his body less tense.
Vivienne, too, sighed but in relief. She was attuned to Max in a way she couldn’t understand and was glad for the reprieve. The doctor had warned them a long night awaited, and Max could use all the emotional help she and Wilson could give him.
Then, all of a sudden, Max stood, his energy shifting to fury.
At first, Vivienne didn’t realize what was happening. She followed Max’s line of sight and berated herself for not shutting off the television.
The Asian reporter was talking to a police officer, and Max’s picture occupied half of the screen. A red banner said, “Breaking News” in flashing letters. Max turned on the audio.
“Our source confirmed that the billionaire is now officially a person of interest in the murder of Lauren Green. As we speak, Seattle PD is looking for Maximus Prize, but he seems to have disappeared,” the reporter said.
The air around Max vibrated. A strangled sound escaped his mouth as he fisted his hands. His back arched as he tried to contain his dragon.
Acting on impulse, Vivienne stepped in front of Max and opened her arms.
His eyes fluctuated from amber to orange, to green, to yellow, and back to amber passing through red. His body shook, and his breaths came in hard puffs. Vivienne closed the gap between them, hugging him.
“I’m here,” she said, letting her wolf reach for his dragon. “I’m here,” she repeated, stroking his back as her lips kissed the spot over his heart.
22
Little by little, Max’s anger lessened. His body relaxed enough for him to breathe a lungful.
Vivienne anchored him as effectively as one of those pills a counselor prescribed for him when he was thirteen and full of rage. The difference was that the medication had left him groggy, numb, and depressed, while Vivienne’s touch made him feel whole.
His arms wound around her back, gently pressing her against his chest. Even at the height of his fury, he had felt her soft lips brushing the spot over his heart as she said she was there for him. Besides his parents and Wilson, nobody else had ever stood by his side. No woman had ever offered him any emotional support in those occasions when he could’ve used a gentle touch or a nice word.
Vivienne didn’t owe him anything. Yet, she had gone above and beyond for him and Amber Rose already.
“Thank you,” he whispered, bending to brush her cheek.
She shivered in his arms. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s everything.”
Vivienne had stopped him before he had a fit of rage and let his dragon loose in the hospital.
She leaned her head against his heart, her hands on his chest. For a moment, only the two of them existed. Slowly, the rest of the room came into focus, and Max remembered that Wilson was still in there.
His friend’s eyes were wide, and his expression was shocked as he looked at Vivienne. Wilson knew firsthand how dangerous trying to calm down Max could be. Once, when they were in high school, one of the teachers said something derogatory about a half-breed were-panther, and Max’s rage had ignited with catastrophic consequences. Wilson stood in Max’s path as he was shifting and took the brunt of the dragon’s fiery temper. The sense of guilt and shame had kept Max company for months. Something good came out of it, though, because Max started martial arts and meditation, and more or less kept in check the worst of his nature.
Tonight, Max’s fury built up fast. He didn’t have time to breathe or apply any of the calming techniques he had learned in Tibet. If it hadn’t been for Vivienne, he would’ve shifted, caused great damage all around him, possibly hurting her, Wilson, and anyone else on his destructive path.
He would’ve lost Amber Rose. Social services would’ve never let her stay with him if it turned out he had anger management problems.
The realization made him recoil in pain.
“Max,” Vivienne said, looking at him with worry etched on her beautiful face. She raised one hand to his cheek and stroked him.
“Max, are you okay?” Wilson asked.
Max could only nod as Vivienne dragged him to a chair. She weighed maybe ninety pounds wet but moved him nonetheless. He sat with a loud thud and leaned his head against the wall, looking at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. The room swam all around him, and he shut his eyes closed to get his bearings, glad Vivienne made him sit.
“Get him some coffee,” Vivienne said.
Steps shuffled outside, and a moment later Wilson came back alongside the smell of hospital coffee.
“Here,” his friend said.
Max blinked, and Wilson came to focus. “Thank you.” He accepted the brown Styrofoam cup and took a tentative sip.
“Better?” Vivienne asked when he had swallowed more than half the cup.
Max breathed twice, letting as much oxygen in his lungs as he could get before answering with a nod.
“Good.” Vivienne smiled at him, her hand on his arm, gently squeezing.
Doctor Kalisten chose that moment to come back.
“Is something wrong?” Max immediately asked, jumping to the most horrible conclusion.
The doctor looked tired, and her grim expression only intensified his fear. “Amber Rose’s condition hasn’t improved, but it isn’t worse either. It gives us hope.”
“Okay,” he muttered.
“I wanted to let you know that Amber Rose might need a transfusion, and we have called the Shifter Blood Bank already,” the doctor said. Her cell phone went off. Her eyes squinted at the message on the screen. “There’s an emergency.” She strode
to the door and added before exiting the waiting room, “It’s not your daughter.”
Max fell back to the chair. He didn’t remember standing up, and his legs shook as if he had run for days uphill.
His eyes went to the television again, but Vivienne stepped in front of him. “Shut it off,” she said over her shoulder at Wilson, who immediately complied.
“Turning off the TV doesn’t make the problem go away.” Max pinched the arch of his nose.
“No, but it helps keep you and your dragon under control.” Wilson never minced words. It was one of the reasons they had immediately hit it off when they were kids.
“You should eat something,” Vivienne said, eyeing the empty cup Max had inadvertently crushed.
“There’s a vending machine just around the corner.” Wilson patted his pants pocket. “My treat,” he said, producing a leather wallet. “Any preference?” He looked at Vivienne.
“Anything with chocolate will work,” she said.
Wilson nodded before turning to Max. “Everything else for you, and chocolate.”
Once they were alone, Vivienne sat next to Max. She didn’t say anything. Another trait he liked about her. She wasn’t one of those women who needed to fill the silence with a string of words.
This time, it was he who needed to talk. “I’ve never thought I could love someone as I love my daughter. I’ve just met her, and I would give my life for her, no questions asked. Is it normal?”
His biological parents hadn’t cared for him. Deep inside, he had always feared their DNA would make him an indifferent father and vowed he would never abandon a child of his, even though he might be unable to love his progeny. But he had been wrong and was glad for it despite the pain cleaving him in two.
“It is,” she answered after a long pause. “A parent’s love for their child is the strongest force in the universe.” Sadness loaded her words, and her eyes were downcast.
Max raised her chin gently. “You’ll be a wonderful mother one day.”
The image of the three of them—he, Vivienne, and Amber Rose—hugging flashed before his eyes.
23
You’ll be a wonderful mother one day.
Vivienne’s heart stopped at Max’s statement. He had meant well, and the dreamy expression on his face was endearing, but his words dug into her like claws scratching at a wound that never healed.
“Vivienne?” Max frowned. “Is everything okay?”
She absentmindedly nodded.
“Hey,” he said, tilting her head to give her a good look.
His eyes were warm as was his hand under her chin, and for the first time, Vivienne felt the need to confide her anguish.
“I can’t have kids,” she whispered.
There, the horrible truth was out. Would Max look at her with pity like her clan did? Poor, broken Vivienne, the weak half-breed who would never have a pup of her own.
“I’m sorry.” His hand moved from her chin to her shoulder, searing a path on her skin. “You can still be a mother. Being a parent can come in different forms. I know it’s not a consolation, but it’s true. Look at my mother.”
She stared at him, unable to talk, tears welling in her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Max caressed her arm. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said, taking a long breath before adding, “I’m grateful for your words. People usually react differently when they discover I can’t have kids.”
“They feel sorry for you,” he said.
“I hate it.” She had never said anything about it before. It felt liberating and encouraged her to say more. “For a she-wolf, mating and having as many children as she can is all there is in life. We might have very demanding and prestigious careers, but our society sees a she-wolf with less than three pups as defective.”
“It’s a shifter thing. With a few exceptions—” Max’s gaze momentarily unfocused. “What happened?”
With any other person, Vivienne would’ve shut herself off. Max was different. Genuine interest, not malice, fueled his questions.
“Forget I asked. I was out of line.” He raised his hand and gave her an apologetic smile.
“No, it’s okay,” she hurried to say. “It’s not a secret or anything.” And if they kept seeing each other, her story would come up sooner or later. Vivienne didn’t like to talk about her past, but sometimes to go forward, one had to take a step back.
“You don’t have to say anything.” Max took her hand in his and softly squeezed.
“You know that I’m a half-breed,” she blurted out. It was a long story, and she had to start from the beginning.
Max nodded.
Vivienne took a long breath. “Five years ago, I was in a car accident. It was Saint Patrick’s Day, and I was driving home after bar hopping with friends. I wasn’t drunk or anything,” she added, not wanting him to get the wrong idea.
Caressing her wrist, Max gave her another smile, this one filled with encouragement.
She took another bracing breath for the next part. “I didn’t drink at all that night because I was pregnant.” Her hand went to her flat stomach. It was an automatic reaction every time she remembered that horrible night. “Jack and my boyfriend, Luke, were in the car. I was the designated driver.”
Max’s eyes were now pools of amber, his touch soft and gentle against her hand.
“I was on the old 520 Bridge when a car coming from the opposite direction invaded my lane, hitting my small Kia. The impact was brutal and sent my car against the guardrail. One moment, Jack and Luke were drunkenly singing along with the radio. The next, we were hurtling into Lake Washington. It was all so fast, there was nothing I could do.” She slumped her shoulders.
Even after five years, remembering the events of that horrific night stung.
“You went into the water,” Max said.
“That would have been ideal.” She shook her head. “But no, it didn’t happen that way.”
How many times had she asked herself what if? What if the driver had hit them half a mile north of there where there was only water underneath the bridge? What if she had let Jack and Luke drink another beer as they had begged her, and left that last pub later? What if she hadn’t sped to catch a yellow light before it became red on Aurora Avenue?
Max’s feather-light brush brought her back to the present.
Vivienne shivered. “They had started building the new bridge, and there was a concrete platform underneath us, not water. The Kia crashed against the platform, shattering us, quite literally. Jack shifted into his wolf and dragged Luke and me out before fainting. I wasn’t conscious and couldn’t shift—”
She didn’t need to explain the rest. Half-breeds inherited both parents’ genes. Although she was stronger than a mortal and could shift into her she-wolf, her animal was small and couldn’t heal as well as a pure-breed. Thanks to her wolf side, she was still alive, though.
“By the time the rescuers arrived, Luke was dead,” she said. “He was mortal.”
What if she hadn’t been unconscious and bit Luke? Maybe he would have survived the transformation and his wolf would’ve healed him.
“You couldn’t have done anything for him,” Max said as if reading her mind.
She continued, “The damage to my body was extensive. My small wolf tried her best to heal me, but it was too much for her. I lost my baby.” Her hand pressed harder against her stomach. “And I won’t ever be able to carry another one.”
The pain and guilt she carried in her heart weighed like a boulder pressing against her chest. The first few months after the accident, Vivienne sometimes couldn’t breathe at all.
“I’m so sorry.” Max hugged her. His embrace was soft and warm, filled with acceptance. Not pity. Not judgement.
For the first time in years, she lowered her shield, the façade she had built to survive, and let the tears fall as she leaned against his chest.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated lower,
kissing the crown of her head. His hands caressed her back in large circles.
His strong, protective presence succeeded where countless sessions with her PTSD counselor failed. Vivienne cried for her baby boy and Luke as Max rocked her slowly, giving her the support she needed.
Several minutes later, she leaned away to give him a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Wilson entered soon after carrying a handful of snacks. From his soft gaze and sympathetic expression, it was clear he had been waiting in the hallway for a while, giving Vivienne time to collect herself. She couldn’t help but be grateful for his tactful thinking.
24
Max didn’t want to let go of Vivienne. He couldn’t understand the kind of pain she lived through day in and day out, but the mere thought of losing Amber Rose sent him into a spiral of despair, and that gave him a glimpse into Vivienne’s hurt. His heart ached for Vivienne, and he wanted to lessen her sorrow but didn’t know how. For all the money he had, he couldn’t fix the past.
From over Vivienne’s head, he silently thanked Wilson. His friend had stepped into the waiting room and exited right away when he saw that Max and Vivienne were having a heart-to-heart.
“I pretty much ransacked the vending machine,” Wilson said, walking to their corner with his loot. He opened his arms over the side table. “Snacks for everybody,” he announced with a flourish. Dozens of wrapped goodies fell onto the black surface, making lots of noise in the otherwise quiet room.
Vivienne chose a chocolate bar. “Thank you, Wilson.”
Max went for an anemic sandwich and swallowed the small triangle of bread, ham, and cheese all at once. “I need more,” he said, gulping down the bite and going for another sandwich.
Soon, between Max and Wilson, the entire supply of food disappeared from the table. Vivienne only took a second chocolate bar, saying that she couldn’t eat more.
After the feeding frenzy, Max’s fear returned stronger than ever. Doctor Kalisten hadn’t come back, which meant the news could be either good or bad. Meanwhile, whatever web Louise was spinning, it only grew larger, and it would trap him as soon as he set foot out of the hospital.
The Alpha’s Gift_Bad Alpha Dads_The Immortals Page 9
