Max's Desire

by Elyzabeth M. VaLey

  Stop this right now, man.

  Returning to his seat, Max pulled out his cell phone and scrolled to one of the few games he could play without an Internet connection. Why, after so many years, the elders still refused to update the technology in their plane of existence was beyond his comprehension. He’d presented two reports and held a meeting with them to explain the benefits, but the ruling had been unanimous: It was an unnecessary distraction. Their means of communication worked to perfection and they didn’t need mobile phones, the Internet, or any of those petty human instruments.

  Which, as he’d defended at the time, didn’t make any sense because when they were on Earth they had to learn to use phones and computers to blend in. Yet they couldn’t use any of it in their own turf. Here it was all about bells, boys carrying messages, and handwritten notes. Huffing, he attempted to focus on his game, but his mind continued to wander.

  At least they had electricity, hot water, and heating. He sighed. Deep down he knew connecting Earth and their homeland would be a monumental task, and there were much more important things to do. Training, learning, keeping their people alive and thriving, and the most important of all: maintaining the balance between good and evil.

  Abruptly his phone beeped, then turned off.

  “For fuck’s sake,” he growled, fighting the impulse to hurl his only distraction against the wall.

  His gaze darted to the man sitting in stony silence on one of the straight-backed wooden chairs. He appeared to be unperturbed by his outbreak.

  “How the hell do you manage to stay so calm?” Max asked.

  “I put my training into practice,” Killian replied.

  “This is not a battle.”

  “No,” he agreed. “Not physically, only mentally.” Killian turned icy blue eyes on him. “What do I gain by stressing out? By throwing objects out the window?”

  “Immediate satisfaction.”

  Killian’s eyebrows rose. Max winced. Considering the cuts and bruises on his friend’s face, the movement must have hurt.

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Therefore, I choose to weigh my options and their outcomes and to wait.”

  “You can’t predict everything,” Max argued.

  “Of course not.”

  Max blinked. Killian’s tone sounded clipped, and had he just seen a flash of irritation cross his eyes?

  “But?” Max prodded.

  “There is no but. I just agreed with you, Max.”

  Killian turned away. He shut his eyes, inhaling deeply before exhaling.

  “You’re angry.”

  “Max—”

  “Why?”

  Killian’s clear gaze roved over him as if assessing him. Max stared back, taking in his friend’s appearance for the first time. Killian had fashioned his hair into a single braid which draped over his shoulder, the blond tresses lustrous against the material of his white shirt. His dark slacks were ironed and his shoes polished to a shine. If it weren’t for the injuries on his face and the ink peeking from beneath his clothes, he’d successfully play the part of a businessman rather than a soldier.

  “Max, why do you think we’re here?” Killian asked.

  Max’s stared at his faded jeans. His fingers curled, struggling against the urge to straighten his black polo shirt. He slouched forward and passed a hand across his face. He shouldn’t be here. He should be home, resting, but Aslan had summoned them, and though he pretended he didn’t know why, the answer was in every inch of his pained body.

  “Because of me,” he murmured. “I know and I’m sorry. I apologized to you at the hospital. What else do you want me to do? Beg for forgiveness? Yes, I lost it with the girl. I don’t know what came over me. It could have happened to any one of us.”

  “’I know,” Killian said.

  “Then? What’s the deal?”

  “The problem isn’t that you lost your head over a girl, Max. It’s that you disobeyed me. I told you to wait outside and you didn’t. You went into a room on your own, without any backup.” Killian lowered his voice, the effect a jagged edge which made Max’s spine crawl with guilt. “Why do you think we go into Lust’s in units? Why do you think I always remind you we move as one?”

  Max’s jaw dropped.

  “Killian, are you blaming yourself?”

  “I am the strike leader, the highest in command in our team. There’s no one to blame but myself.”

  “That’s not true. I disregarded your order. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “True, but I also failed. I saw your reaction when we entered. You stopped mid stride and all color left your face.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  “You know I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You did what you thought was best at that moment.”

  “When we’re suffering from shock we should not be left to our devices,” Killian said. “Seeing your friend in Lust’s grasp,” he trailed off. “I can’t even imagine it.” He sighed heavily.

  “It’s fine. You guys freed her, remember?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I’m alive and in one piece, except for a few battle scars.”

  “Is that what you call being in the hospital for almost two weeks?”

  Max grinned.

  “Sure do. It’ll be one hell of a story to tell. A definite chick magnet.”

  Killian rolled his eyes.

  “You’re impossible.” He lapsed into silence, taking on a pensive expression.

  Max rolled his neck, releasing the knots. The movement pained him, the bruises there a dull reminder of his bout with suffocation. He meant what he had said, though. In the future, all of this would become a memory, a mere adventure. His heart constricted. All, except Eva. Would he ever be able to forget her? Would she become a distant dream? The ghost of a woman he’d promised to protect and had failed miserably to do so.

  “Are you still thinking about her?” Killian asked.

  “Eva?”

  Killian’s eyes widened. Then his face split into a huge, shit-eating grin.

  “I was referring to your friend, but clearly that’s not who you’ve been thinking about.”

  Max fumbled for words. His neck burned.

  “I—”

  “You know? When we got you out of there, you were semi-conscious and you kept calling her name. Eva. Eva,” Killian moaned.

  “It’s just a woman,” Max finally managed. Killian’s lips quirked. “Fuck, Killian.” Max ran his fingers through his hair. “I just, I can’t really explain it. It’s probably the trauma of the situation. That’s what the doctors said because the spell casters did their thing. Man, this wound was festering and they were still pumping poison out of me when they came down from Veritas. For three days, I drank foul liquids and stood naked in front of them while they poked and prodded and performed their magic. I’m not infected by Lust or any Inferum, but I can’t stop thinking about her.” Max covered his face with his hands.

  “It’s all right, Max. I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. There are some women you just can’t get out of your mind. Somehow they worm their way below your skin, taking possession of every one of your waking thoughts. Every other woman you meet pales in comparison to her.” Killian’s gaze took on a far-away expression, his eyes glazing over as if among the shadows he saw the woman he spoke about.

  “Who is she?”

  “Someone I can never have,” Killian replied with a shrug.

  The door creaked loudly and they both turned to it. A petite woman with grayish hair stood beneath the frame. Her eyes sparkled and she smirked.

  “You boys look like you were up to no good.” Her nose wrinkled. “Girl talk, eh? Well, you’ll have to continue after Aslan sees you. Max, he’s waiting for you.”

  “Aren’t we going in together?” Max asked.

  “No, Aslan wants to speak to each of you individually.”

  Max stiffened. He had imagined they had been summone
d together because Aslan wanted to see them both at the same time.

  Scarlett’s features softened. “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right.”

  “Who said I was worried?” Max got to his feet and smoothed his clothes. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Have a seat Maximilian.”

  Aslan pointed to one of the accent chairs in front of his meticulously organized desk. He regarded him carefully, his glance evoking a sense of foreboding which was impossible to ignore. Max sat down slowly. The tension in his muscles transferred to his chest, and he bit back a gasp of pain. He’d always had the utmost respect for Aslan and, unlike some of his comrades, had never feared him. Now, however, his boss’s sense of power seemed to make the room crackle with energy. Max’s predicament became clear. He had fucked up. Badly. He swallowed.

  “How are you, Maximilian?” Aslan’s gaze roved over his torso, no doubt taking in the marks on his neck and wondering about what lay beneath his shirt.

  “I’ve been better,” Max said.

  “I imagine.” Aslan folded his hands over his desk and pierced him with steely eyes. “You’re probably wondering why I wanted to see you.”

  “I imagine it has something to do with what happened at Lust’s.”

  “Yes. I have read Killian’s report, but I would like to hear your side of the story.”

  Max sucked in his cheeks. He knew Killian would have had to present a report, but a little forewarning of what he wrote would have been nice.

  “Don’t leave out any details,” Aslan continued.

  Max nodded.

  “Of course.”

  Taking a calming breath, he proceeded to explain what had occurred at Lust’s, including the shock of seeing Ophelia, followed by the call for help from a woman. Aslan touched his fingers together, forming a steeple.

  “So, you’re telling me you disobeyed Killian because you heard someone asking for help.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I see. And you say this woman continued to ask for your help and urged you to fight against the succubus, which may I add had just fed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you think she was human?”

  Max hesitated. Something told him Aslan was setting him up, like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse. Unfortunately, he had no other option but to reply, and he knew lying wouldn’t cut it.

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “I see.” Aslan grabbed a manila folder from atop his desk. “Do you know what happened after you lost consciousness?”

  “Barely,” Max said. “I woke up at the hospital and was informed I was safe. The threat of the succubus had been dealt with.”

  “And you didn’t ask about the woman? After all, it was the sole reason for which you put your life and that of your brothers in peril.”

  The line was delivered smoothly, but the accusation stung nonetheless. Max swallowed.

  “Yes, I did,” he said. Sweat gathered at the back of his neck, his blood pressure spiked, and his injuries began to throb at the memory of the moment he’d been told of Eva’s fate. Soul-tearing devastation crushed him, making it difficult to breathe. He clamped his digits onto the side of the chair, the rough material grounding him.

  Power through, Max.

  “I was informed she was killed.” His voice was hollow, lacking emotion, but Aslan didn’t seem to notice. Pulling out a document from within the folder, he thumbed through it and began to read.

  “When we arrived, the soldier lay on the ground, unconscious. At first impression, what appeared to be a woman kneeled at his side, fumbling with his clothes. Two feet away from her, a succubus watched. With one man down and in peril, we decided to act as fast as possible. Noah assailed the woman.” Aslan skimmed over the document, then turned the page. “Ah,” he said. “Here it is. Due to the lack of Inferum in the room, it is firmly believed the human woman present had been a succubus.” Aslan looked up at him. “There you have it.”

  Max bowed his head and stared at his knuckles. They were white. Killian had tried to explain at the hospital, but he refused to hear it. Aslan, Killian, Noah, and Ethan could believe whatever they wanted, but they hadn’t seen the remorse and the overwhelming sadness in Eva’s eyes. Hadn’t heard her pleas for help, her sobs. None of them understood. Max looked at his boss. Aslan regarded him with open interest.

  “You don’t seem to agree.”

  Max shook his head.

  “I don’t. I saw her cry. She asked for help. No one ever asks for help at Lust’s.”

  Aslan pursed his lips.

  “Perhaps, it is what you thought you heard, Maximilian. After all, you had just seen a good friend of yours entrapped in Lust’s hell. Our mind can play tricks on us.”

  “No, I—”

  Aslan quieted him with a quick hand gesture. Max clenched his teeth.

  “Demon or not, that isn’t the issue here, Maximilian. The real problem is the fact you disobeyed your group leader, leaving your post, endangering yourself and everyone on the team.”

  Aslan flattened his palms against the tabletop.

  “Would you have had me ignore her?” Max asked, his temper rising. “We go into Lust’s to save those souls.”

  “No. You enter Lust’s realm to regain the balance. Saving people from the Sin’s grasp is part of the job, but one person doesn’t make a difference, especially if you put everyone else at risk.” Aslan pressed his lips together for an instant, before picking up a pen and signing something. “What you did was reckless, Maximilian. You should have waited for your team. A few more minutes wouldn’t have altered her fate.”

  He folded the paper and handed it over. Max skimmed the contents. His hands shook and he stuffed the sheet into his pocket. He should have expected the penalty, but the way Aslan had delivered it still angered him.

  “It is a written notice. There’s a copy in your file.” Aslan paused. “How long did the doctors say you had to be on leave?”

  “I need to go back for a checkup in ten days.”

  “Good. It’ll give you time to think and remember why we do what we do here. We’ll meet again when you’re fully recovered. Please, let Scarlett know I’m ready for Killian now.”

  Aslan dismissed him, turning his focus back to the paperwork on his desk. The nerve on Max’s jaw ticked. He forced himself to move.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter Eight

  Max stuffed some t-shirts into the sports bag. He needed to leave ASAP. Every cell in his body hummed with nervous energy, bidding him to run far away from his job, his people, himself. He wanted to go somewhere remote and forget. An impossible feat considering the wound on his torso, which hurt and itched in equal measures.

  “Damn succubus,” he muttered. Immediately, Eva’s beseeching brown eyes appeared at the forefront of his mind. He sat on the edge of the bed. How was he going to get rid of her image? He glanced at the pile of things atop the mattress.

  “What are you doing, Max?” he murmured. “Where are you even going?”

  Earth.

  He fell back against his pillow and shut his eyes. Earth. He’d known the answer from the moment he arrived home and decided to leave. He had to go there and find Eva.

  “Impossible.”

  If he knew more about her than only her name, he might stand a chance, but on a planet with over seven billion people, well, to say the odds were not in his favor was an understatement.

  Now what?

  One thing was certain: He had to get out of Virtue Island. He needed rest, tranquility. Somewhere remote, where he could heal. Maybe the Valley of Dragons or the Enchanted Forest? If he remembered correctly, they had a really nice spa in the latter. He could immerse himself in nature. Surely, the change of pace and atmosphere would set his mind to rest, and soon he wouldn’t recall the moment the succubus ripped into him or Eva’s face, her voice, the hollow sadness in her eyes.

  A booming knock pulled him out of his thoughts. Max glanced at hi
s classic alarm clock. Nine p.m. The thundering racket at his door repeated itself. Who came to visit at this time?

  “Coming. Calm your horses.”

  Max crossed his apartment and peered into the peephole. He couldn’t help grinning at the sight outside. Clearing his throat, he threw open the door and leaned against the frame, purposely blocking the entrance.

  “Password?” he asked.

  “Stop being an asshole,” Killian replied. “And take something.”

  Max laughed and grabbed the pizza box from Killian.

  “Shit, it’s hot.”

  He hurried to the kitchen and deposited it on the counter. Killian followed a step behind. He set two beer bottles down, then went to the fridge.

  “Why do you think I was slamming on the door?”

  “’Cause you’ve got no manners,” Max replied while peering into the cardboard box. His stomach rumbled at the sight of the homemade, artisan pepperoni-and-cheese pie. He broke a piece off with his fingers. “You know, you could have just set something on the floor and knocked properly.” He bit into the slice. “Mmmm.”

  “You’re impossible. I go all the way down to Altor and this is the thanks I get,” Killian said. He popped open one of the bottles and handed it to him. Max took a swig.

  “Damn, that’s good.” He turned the bottle in his hands, running his finger across the engraving. “Killian, this is from Millicent’s brewery.”

  “It is.”

  Max’s eyebrows shot up.

  “You only buy this when you’re celebrating,” Max pointed out. “Not that I’m complaining.” He took another sip, appreciating the rich, malty taste with an earthy backbone.

  “You’re alive and neither of us has been fired. What else is there to celebrate?” Killian grabbed a slice of food and took a healthy bite.

  “Yeah, I don’t believe you,” Max said. He took in his friend’s appearance. Strands of hair stuck out of his messy braid, and he hadn’t changed clothes since that morning, but he’d rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, the colorful tattoos on his arms in full display. Those were minor changes compared to the transformation on Killian’s face. The troubled man he’d spoken to earlier was gone, in its place someone else. Rosy cheeks, lips tilting upward, and eyes glimmering with resolve. Max set his food down. Hope. It shone through his friend brighter than sunlight. His heart constricted.