PART THIRTY ONE

Max collapsed on the bed in exhaustion, every bone in his body aching, especially the broken ones. He kicked off first one damp shoe, and then another as Liz turned on the bedside lamp, which cast their new bedroom in an eerie glow.

During what remained of the night, they’d traveled to a new safe house high in the rugged hills outside Santa Fe. Nicholas and his army had quickly cleared off the mountain, taking the Suburbans with them, which would have left them stranded, except for the escape plan Serena had carefully laid out long ago. So they’d taken a small motorboat across the black lake, navigating the choppy waters to a distant dock, where they’d disembarked. There they’d loaded into one waiting Suburban—the last in their possession—and had driven for hours until arriving at this smaller hillside home.

They’d all quickly assigned rooms, as everyone needed sleep, and Max had found Serena leading them to this bedroom in the back of the house. It was smaller than their last room, but comfortable enough, decorated in true Southwestern style, with throw rugs and Native American art adorning the walls. And the bed was a decent size, which he always appreciated, even with as small as Liz was. But most of all, they had their own private bathroom, which was an immeasurable comfort in a group house like this one.

So, they’d all headed to bed, with the mumbled agreement among Serena, Tess, Michael and himself that they’d discuss strategies once they’d all slept a bit. Michael had narrowed his eyes in concern, staring at his blackening eyes and broken nose, but Max had turned away, pretending not to notice.

And now Max watched as Liz stripped off her wet clothing, wrapping herself in a large towel she’d taken from the bathroom, wearing only her small silk bra and panty set beneath. None of them had brought more than the clothes on their back when they’d fled, especially since they couldn’t risk re-approaching the cabin. Serena planned to send a small team to recover whatever belongings they could in a few days time, once they were sure the cabin was no longer under surveillance.

Max studied Liz from where he lay propped against the musty pillow on their bed. Her expression was pensive and he realized she was worried about him, as he noted how her brows knit in deep concern as she approached him. She settled beside him on the edge of the bed, her hip brushing against his as she leaned over him, stroking his hair away from his eyes.

"I’m okay," he promised her huskily, wanting to reassure her, even though he felt far from whole.

"Max," she began, her voice filled with raw emotion. "Let me try again." She ran her fingertips down across his chest, resting lightly over his ribs where they throbbed so painfully. He’d removed his damp sweater before collapsing on the soft mattress, so her fingertips met his bare skin, sending a little shiver across his body, even in his broken state.

Liz had tried healing his injuries in the car, but had been unable to summon enough energy in the wake of having ministered to Riley. This was something Max understood all too well from his own past experience—when he’d healed Liz and later Kyle, he’d been completely drained and it had taken a while for his energy to bolster again.

"Please," he murmured softly in reply. "Yes, love."

"Alright," she whispered, pressing light kisses against his forehead and he closed his eyes wearily, feeling his body press into the mattress below his back. Everything still felt thick, and the throbbing pain in his head had caused his perceptions to seem gauzy.

His eyes fluttered open, as he felt her tiny hands graze his cheeks, and he saw her fingers brush against his nose. "Let me fix this first," she breathed, her mouth hovering right over his. "That way, I can start small. Besides, you’re too beautiful… to look like this."

He laughed dully, cupping her cheek with his palm, as her hair cascaded over her shoulder, brushing his forearm. He could feel her warm, sweet breath against his face as she leaned in close to him. Somehow in that moment, as he lay staring up at her, she struck him as more gorgeous than ever before…the way her long, silky hair spilled freely over his arm, and her dark eyes focused so intently on his face. His heart ached suddenly as he stared at her, as he yearned to reach for their bond, to flirt with her, to allow his energy to nip at her skin and dance along their connection.

He wanted to seduce her alien soul as he had so many times before, and yet he had nothing, was nothing in that regard anymore. Just a man, with his wife, so broken in every way.

Her richly colored eyes pressed closed and he felt a jolt of electricity shoot through his jaw, straight into his neck. He cried out at the sudden physical explosion, meeting her eyes as they opened—yet she was someplace else, focused, working to heal him.

Now he felt her fingertips trace a quick pattern, flutter against his eyes, his face and he felt himself slip into another plane, as he threw his head back slightly at her touch.

Images rushed one on top of another, overlapping, entwining…like a slide show at the speed of light. Memories from their youth together, then their married life, and now the most recent times in the various safe houses. Their bare bodies moving slickly together as they made love crazily, and then alien images—things that only surfaced during their mating season, the most primal moments between them.

He gasped tightly as his chest constricted in a sudden spasm. God, he couldn’t breathe, this had to stop, yet her fingers moved in tight little rhythms, now down his chest. Her hands grazed his skin, roaming, searching. Hot hands, greedy…needing more than he could give, yet he wanted to give her everything as he felt her palms rest against his aching body.

His energy had reached a fever pitch in no time at all, was begging for release.

I’ll connect with her, he thought as he tried to open his eyes. Yet he couldn’t, could only lie beneath her touch, murmuring her name softly as he felt his body repair beneath her touch. White-hot electricity mounted, focused, prepared for release and suddenly their lips were crushing together, as he pulled her down on top of himself.

Max’s eyes flew open, as he drew in burning gulps of air. "What just happened?" he panted, raw desire causing him to strain painfully within his blue jeans.

"I healed you, Max," Liz answered breathily. She seemed relatively calm, and he felt so feral, as if something primal had just been released within his veins.

"Don’t you feel this?" he begged, pulling her body flush on top of his. "God, it’s unbelievable."

The pain was gone, replaced only by this aching need for his mate—and the straining of his alien energy, seeking a release that it couldn’t find, reaching, climbing…yet only spinning right back inside.

The result was this unbearable burning for her, as his tongue played at her lips until she opened to him, and he began devouring her mouth, their tongues dancing heatedly together. Her hands threaded through his hair, as her knee slipped between his legs, rubbing lightly between the center of his thighs, causing his groin to tighten sharply. He thrust upward, bucking his hips against her own, wanting her to feel how strongly she’d aroused him. She answered with thrusts of her own, and their hips began rocking together hungrily, until suddenly she stilled, breaking their heated kiss.

"Max," she questioned softly. "Are you sure? You’ve been through…" Her words faded as she stared down at him, and for a moment their eyes just locked in a simmering gaze.

"I have to get it back," he moaned quietly, cupping her face within his palms. "I need you so much, Liz. I can’t live without our bond."

"Is that what this is about?" she pressed, her eyes dark with desire.

"No," he growled, threading his hands through her hair hungrily. "Yes…Don’t you feel it, Liz? It’s like our mating season, only different. I’m…God, I just have to have you now."

She kissed him lovingly, searing his lips with a slow kiss. "Of course I feel it," she murmured quietly. "How could I not?"

And with that, he rolled her onto her back in one fluid motion, pinning her beneath him, so ready to possess her.

Max wanted to make love to her, and there was nothing Liz wanted more in that moment, yet a tiny alarm sounded in the recesses of her mind. I have to get it back, he’d cried. Somehow he believed that if they simply made love, it would transcend the break in their bond, would repair it, Liz realized. And her heart lurched because the scientist within her knew it wouldn’t be that simple, couldn’t possibly be. What they’d always shared was too ethereal, like a gossamer thread spun of gold, and if someone clipped that, separating one end from the other, it couldn’t be repaired easily.

Their joining had always been a mystery, a celebration of something sacred, and weaving back together would be just as majestic.

Liz wasn’t even convinced they could re-bond, though she wouldn’t admit that to Max. Not with as devastated as he’d been all night. So now, as he began tugging at her lip with his mouth, while his hands stroked her nipples through the thin silk fabric of her bra, she lost herself in his arms, determined not to worry about their connection.

Except the nagging heat that had begun churning in her stomach, a familiar, treasured thing that now felt aimless and without purpose, could never let her forget what they’d lost. Worse still, the more Max kissed her so hungrily, his light stubble scratching against her smooth cheek, the more she heard her own breath fall in quick pants—and the more restless her alien energy grew, causing her body to tremble.

Their twin energies couldn’t build this way without release, and there was only one place where it would be re-absorbed—and that was right within their own bodies.

"Oh, God," she cried against his neck, clinging desperately to Max, grinding her hips up against him. "I…oh…oh…" What would they do? Their physical bodies weren’t enough for this kind of build up, she thought as the room began to spin. Her alien self was screaming, clawing for Max’s alien side…mourning, spilling dry tears down a non-existent silken thread of connection.

Max’s hands were all over her, as he rolled her onto her side again. His breathing was heavy, as his fingers slipped just inside her panties, stroking her wetness…then delving further, plunging in and out of her, and the heat grew in her abdomen by quick degrees.

Helpless…that one word echoed in her mind like a liberation chant. Helpless. Helpless without it, helpless in his arms, helpless to stop.

"Zillia," he moaned in her ear. "My beautiful Zillia…all I ever want is you,"

She shivered at his tender, secret name for her—a name always reserved for when they made love as Zan and Zillia had—yet now it was a prayer offered in the night.

His fingers were deftly easing her panties down her hips, as she fumbled with the button fly on his blue jeans. She found the zipper, tugging it downward in one smooth gesture, so that his pants fell open, loose on his hips. She plundered low inside his boxers, and he sprang free through the small opening in front. She moaned in his ear, as he nuzzled her, each of them grasping at the other, clutching at clothing and skin trying to absorb more of the other.

Nothing was enough, nothing met the endless thrumming of their alien energy, or could cool their heated skin. Not even this.

"I need you, baby," he whispered hoarsely in her ear. "Please just…oh oh," he moaned as her hand began a strong rhythm.

Her free hand worked his jeans lower so that they slipped off his hips, leaving only his boxers. She paused a moment, working those low so that now he sprang completely free, and she took his warm, pulsating flesh within her palm, and began a stronger rhythm.

Max closed his eyes, his head collapsing against the pillow and for a brief moment he thought that perhaps he’d actually died earlier, and that this was some bizarre place of painful ecstasy he’d found along his journey. Liz’s touch was that intense and vibrant, so heavenly, yet the whole experience so agonizing.

In the absence of their connection, there was only the physical sensation of her touch, and somehow while his alien nature cried out from the hillside, desperate for Zillia, his human body felt more pleasured than ever. Perhaps it was some built-in protection, for he ached for the other aspect of their joining deep in his bones.

All he could do was focus on their two bodies, so ready to join. And now they were completely bare against one another, as her tiny hand worked him in such a steady, pounding rhythm.

"Baby," he cried. "Oh, oh, yes…" His hands tangled through her long hair, as he arched up against her, clinging breathlessly to her neck. Liz never stopped the rhythm, but suddenly she slipped on top of him, straddling him and then her hand fell away.

His eyes flew open, meeting her dark ones and in that moment they did communicate. Not through their non-existent bond, not with words—but with their simple gazes. She told him the depth of love she felt for him, how she longed to connect with him, how much she desired him.

He heard a loud moan in reply, as suddenly he thrust up inside of her, and realized it had escaped his own lips. She threw her head back, as their hands wove together and the heat exploded in every cell of his body—without any exit point. He groaned as it built, caused him to shudder, and all the while he made love to her hard, desperately. Nothing was gentle about their joining, nothing tender, it was all need and about claiming one another, about feeling lost, and wanting to navigate home.

Again and again, their sweat-slicked bodies crashed against one another, as Max thrust in and out of her, arching up against her with soft, murmured pleas. Liz met each of his thrusts with her own, sculpting the contours of his chest and abdomen with her hands, her fingertips…memorizing all his physical planes again.

Their soft moans mingled, overlapped and grew louder, as their desire reached a crescendo. And then, as quickly as they’d come together, he was exploding within her, bucking up against her hips repeatedly as they both cried out loudly.

And then the cries were replaced with silent, ragged breaths, then emptiness—primitive alien heat that had found no resolution, still churning through their bodies.

Her sob tore through his heart like a ragged wound, it was that raw as he pulled her close down onto his chest. A keening sound that escaped her lips before she could stop it, met immediately by his own muted sobs. He stroked her hair, her back, and she pressed her face tight against his neck.

And they lay like that, he still nestled limply inside of her, she straddling his body, both crying hot tears against one another’s bare skin until there were no more tears left to shed, until only soft whimpers replaced the tears, as they clung desperately to one another.

Yet, despite all their intimacy, all their raw nakedness and lovemaking, the bond remained cold as steel.

****

Liz lay on her side, her head nestled against Max’s chest as the earliest dawn light began spilling across their bedroom floor. The room was painted white, much brighter than the woodsy Taos cabin had been, and she hoped that as the days passed, it would cheer their spirits. They’d cried themselves dry over the past few hours, and now Max’s breathing fell evenly, indicating that he slept.

She was grateful that he could, because it had completely eluded her. She felt as if they were grieving the loss of a child, or even one another. Because what Nicholas had taken from them was an entire dimension of their relationship. He’d stolen part of Max from her, Liz reflected, and she hoped Nicholas would die for it. She never thought she’d wish any person dead, but she really wanted that for Nicholas now.

He’d hurt them all too many times, and not just last night--Max had told her privately months ago what Nicholas had done to Serena, how he’d exposed her so shamefully in her natural form.

And now as Liz lay in the gathering morning light, she wanted to see him die. He’d joyously tortured Max, and in the process had awakened his hidden memories of Pierce, and even now as Max slept, he murmured restlessly in his sleep.

Liz studied Max’s face, his still features and reached a finger to trace his beautiful nose. For Liz, seeing it broken had been heartbreaking, because he’d still appeared so noble, yet crushed.

And she feared that Nicholas had finally crushed something of his spirit this time. Deep down, she knew that had been his intention --to weaken Max by attacking what he valued more than any throne or world--his bond with his wife and mate.

Max stirred suddenly, his long lashes fanning a bit as his eyes drifted open. "Liz?" he cried out quietly, his eyes searching around him frantically.

"I’m right here, Max," she answered, stroking his cheek softly beneath her fingertips.

"I understand now," he explained, turning to her drowsily.

"Understand what?" She asked softly.

"This was my premonition…back in Las Cruces," he explained. "I just dreamed about it. This was what it was…I thought you were going to die, but that wasn’t it. Do you remember?"

"Yes," she nodded softly. "I do."

"It wasn’t that you were going to die…it’s that we were."

She sucked in a breath at his words, uttered in his half-sleep state. "We?" She choked.

"He’s killed us, hasn’t he?" He questioned. "That’s why I had that vision, to prepare us."

"Max!" She nearly shouted. "Don’t talk this way, we still have one another."

He shook his head, running a hand across his tired eyes. "He wanted to kill me, but this was so much more pleasurable to him."

"Maxwell Evans, he has not killed what we have. No person has that capability,"

Liz suddenly insisted, believing it to the marrow of her being, despite her earlier misgivings. She sat up in bed and stared down at him. "We will re-bond."

He sighed, staring up at her, his golden eyes watering with fresh tears. "Sorry," he mumbled. "My dream…it just felt…real."

"Determine now whether you’ll fight for this or not, Max." Liz’s voice surprised herself, and she wondered where her strength had even come from.

"You decide right now what you choose to believe," she insisted again, as he stared up at her, eyes widening a bit. He remained silent, his hand wandering up into her hair, stroking slowly. "You decide if Nicholas has stripped you that bare, of what you most believe," she continued. "Or if you’ll fight him to the death."

Max just continued to stare up at her silently, then he spoke so softly, she had to lean closer to hear. "I will always believe in you, Liz. That will never change."

"What does that mean about this, though?"

"That I will fight, I will win," he pledged in a hoarse voice. "And our bond will live."

"Promise me," Liz breathed. "Let’s say it together, swear it as one."

Max sat up beside her in bed, reaching for her hand. They stared at one another for what felt an eternity, and then slowly spoke in unison.

"Our…bond…will live," they swore in one voice, as they clasped hands and their fingers wove together, twining tightly in an unconscious symbol of what they intended for their souls.

Then totally unexpectedly, Max added, "And Nicholas will die."

His voice was surprisingly strong, and Liz knew they'd just won an important battle together.