Page 41 of Tainted Souls
At least he had the decency to look embarrassed. “Not in a creepy way. You’re just… noticeable.”
The bartender set our drinks down, the stranger having already paid before I could protest.
“I don’t need charity,” I said, reaching for my phone.
“It’s not charity. It’s an investment.” He smiled, and something in my chest loosened just a fraction. “Think it bought me five minutes of conversation?”
I studied him more carefully. His button-down shirt was crisp but not flashy, his hair neatly trimmed. He looked out of place in the club, too put-together.
“Five minutes.” I glanced back at Evan and Haden, who were now watching with undisguised interest.
Those five minutes turned into twenty.
Maxim told me he was deep into law school, specializing in civil rights cases. He asked about my studies then, and I gave him the sanitized version: I dropped out.
Technically, Redmoore students were still students. It’s just that most people wouldn’t walk away from something so prestigious, and I wasn’t in the mood to explain why.
He didn’t press when I changed the subject.
What struck me most was how ordinary he was. In a world where I dealt with constant danger, Max was refreshingly mundane. He worried about essays and moot court deadlines, not sparring drills and field exercises.
When Evan and Haden eventually came to collect their drinks, looking equal parts amused and suspicious, Max asked for my number.
I surprised myself by giving it to him.
“Call me tomorrow,” I told him, winking. “When I’m sober enough to remember this conversation.”
He did call.
And somehow, against all odds and my better judgment, we started dating. He did it according to the book, never skipping a step, starting with thoughtful texts, steady plans, and showing up exactly when he said he would, until our meetings grew late into the night, shy hands lingering a little too long, tentative kisses deepening. The heat between us became impossible to ignore. Max represented everything I thought I could never have—normalcy, stability, a life untouched by the darkness I navigated daily.
He became my anchor to the human world, a reminder that there was more to life than hunting and survival.
Now, looking at him in this hospital bed, I wonder if I’ve destroyed that too.
A soft knock at the door pulls me from my reminiscence. A nurse steps in, clipboard in hand. “Any change?” she asks, checking his IV.
I rub my tired eyes. “Nothing yet.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “According to the doctor, his transition is progressing well. All his markers are stabilizing. You can go home if you want. We can call you when he wakes.”
“I’m staying,” I insist.
The nurse nods, noting something on her clipboard before leaving the room again. I return my attention to Max, wondering what will remain of the man I fell in love with once he wakes. Will he still look at me with that warmth? Or will his eyes hold the same hunger I’ve seen in so many others?
I lean back in the utilitarian chair and close my eyes. Hours pass in a blur of medical checks and hushed conversations outside the door. Finally, a soft groan breaks the monotony. I jerk upright, leaning forward as Max’s eyelids flutter. His fingers twitch against the sheets, and I grasp his hand.
“Max?” I whisper.
His eyes open fully and I stifle a gasp.
The warm brown I’ve grown to love has been consumed by a bright red, filled with an intensity that wasn’t there before.
He blinks slowly, disoriented, then focuses on me.
“Seraph?” His voice is different. Somehow even smoother, with a plangency that also wasn’t there before.
I squeeze his hand. “I’m here. How do you feel?”
