As Shadows Fade

But she realized Max was talking to Brim and Michalas, explaining. “Ylito agreed that I should try to wipe the vampire’s blood on the vis during the battle, and it worked.”

“I saw that you put holy water on the vis just before,” Brim said, nodding. “I didn’t realize it was for any other purpose.”

“Your abilities and powers are restored?” Michalas asked.

Max nodded. “Fully restored.” He poured a healthy slug of water onto his head, wiped his darkly stubbled face, then took the rest of the jug and dumped it over his chest. All without sparing a glance at Victoria.

Despite her confusion and annoyance, she bit her lip and felt that familiar fluttering in her belly. She watched as he toweled himself off, removing much of the dirt and blood. Muscles flexed and shifted smoothly, and now they glistened with water.

As he accepted the clean shirt Wayren offered him, there was again the accidental, sketchiest of impersonal glances over Victoria. His gaze barely touched her, and they weren’t even the flat black eyes that she’d expect him to have after seeing her and Sebastian in an embrace…

Impersonal. As if he didn’t know her.

Not angry at her defection. But as if he had no feeling whatsoever.

A sudden flash of worry coursed through her, and she didn’t speak after all. When he’d lost his Venator powers a few months ago, Max had also lost his memory. With the help of Ylito’s foresight and planning, however, he’d regained his memory almost immediately.

But was it possible that now that he’d restored his powers, some of his memory had gone away?

No. Of course not. He seemed to remember everyone else.

Victoria almost stepped forward, her pain turning to annoyance. She was Illa Gardella. She could say something to him, make him respond to her… but in the end, she didn’t.

Not here, in front of everyone, would she take on the possible razor edge of his disdain. Her unsteady fingers and queasy stomach told her she wasn’t strong enough right now.

So, rocked off balance by Sebastian’s actions and Max’s cool impersonality, she settled into herself and remained uncharacteristically quiet as they left the abandoned building.

The moon rose high and fat, casting its blue-silver glow over the creamy buildings, darkening the red roofs to black once they were back on their horses. Victoria rode alongside Brim and Sebastian while Max and Wayren lagged behind, speaking quietly. Michalas brought up the rear.

Somehow they made their way back to the inn in which they’d let rooms, all without Victoria speaking to Max, or even having more than the chance to watch him, to confirm that beneath the grime and blood he truly was recovered.

But she didn’t really have any question… She’d seen it in his eyes, in his bearing. Yet the base relief she felt at his success waned into dismay. Had Sebastian’s actions sent her relationship with Max back to where it had been only two weeks ago?

The dismounting and stabling of horses happened smoothly and quickly, and beneath her swirling thoughts, Victoria got the impression that plans to eat, drink, and celebrate-and the need to leave early the next day for Muntii Fagaras-were being discussed. She didn’t care. She merely moved silently as they made their way across the small yard to the entrance, trying to decide if she should be furious, joyous, or simply hurt.

When they clustered inside the inn, Max somehow slipped up behind Victoria and grabbed her arm. Hard.

Taken by surprise, she turned, but, though his fingers closed tight around her lower arm, he said nothing. He wasn’t even looking at her. He was looking at Sebastian.

It happened quickly. A look passed between the two men, an instant, silent exchange, and the next thing Victoria knew, a door had opened and Max propelled her into a chamber. She had the wherewithal to recognize it as the one she and Sebastian had shared with Antonнn.

Max closed the door with a deliberate clunk of the latch, his hand still gripping her arm. Anger welled up, and Victoria opened her mouth to speak as she tried to pull from his hold-but he was too strong, and he used the force of her aborted movement to whip her around.

The next thing she knew, Victoria was shoved up against the rough stone wall. Max followed, his long, strong body pinning her there as he covered her mouth with his. He released her arm at last, sliding his hands around to hold the back of her head as he molded into her from mouth to chest to hip to thigh. One strong leg slipped between her trousered ones, and she was completely imprisoned.

It took Victoria a bare second to comprehend, and her brain and body to catch up to the sudden onslaught. Then she closed her eyes, sagging gently against him as his heat and scent and strength surrounded her. Max was back.

One long, deep, ferocious kiss later, he pulled away enough to let her catch her breath and to adjust position. He captured her wrists and spread both wide above her head, clasping them with large hands as he kept her in place against the wall with the pressure of his hips and straddled thighs.

Deliciously dazed by the assault, she blinked and swallowed, realizing that her breathing sounded as though she were fighting a battle. Her lips throbbed, her face burned from sharp whiskers, and the imprint of his body left no illusion about how much he desired her.

His own breathing was unsteady, his beautiful lips full and very, very mobile, his damp hair in deep waves against his unshaven cheek. He looked down, and their gazes met.

And… she saw everything there in his dark eyes that she needed to see.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she said. “Or I’ll kill you myself.”

At that, as if he too had needed to see validation, his eyes gleamed hotter and the set of his lips changed, quirking and relaxing in a way that made her stomach plunge and her mouth dry.

Now Max turned from fierce to languorously intent and deliberate. He released her wrists, but moved in to imprison her head in place against the wall with another staggering kiss while his hands tore quickly and efficiently at the clothing between them.

He worked the button of her man’s shirt collar, yanking at it until it gave way and tumbled to the floor. His fingers slid down into the opening as her breathing quickened, feeling the warmth of his flesh against hers as he slipped and tugged and pulled at the gentle breast bindings she’d taken to wearing.

As her shirt and the strips of cloth fell away in tatters, he never removed his mouth from tasting her lips, her cheek, her jaw… even the soft spot beneath her ear.

That lovely curl of desire flooded her from her center out to each limb and digit. Warmth and relief, mixed with urgent need and rising pleasure, set her to sighing against him. Pinioned by the kiss, she felt his hands slide up to cup both breasts, thumbs fanning briefly over their hard nipples, pausing to stroke the tips just firmly enough to send more sharp, lovely little tingles curling through her belly and lower. Then he grabbed up her wrists again, holding them crossed above her head with one hand so that her knuckles brushed the rough masonry.

His hand slipped down beneath the loose waist of her trousers, his fingers quick and sure. With a few deft movements, he slicked and slid, surprising her into the sudden tumble of orgasm, right there against the wall. She trembled against him, and felt the movement of his cheek against her face as he smiled into the curve of her neck- in satisfaction, no doubt.

She didn’t care. She didn’t care at all, especially as, with those long, elegant fingers, he flipped open the three buttons of her trousers’ fall. The waist thus loosened, the trousers slipped down, and he helped them… and she realized she’d begun to tear at his own waist, pulling the fabric from its button fastenings.

He lifted her into position, and she locked her legs around his waist, feeling the rough prickle of stone and masonry against her bare back as he settled into place. And then he thrust deep… and paused, holding her against the wall, pressing as intimately as one could press, delaying the lovely rise of pleasure for the moment as their breath mingled roughly in the silence.

Then he took her hand and pressed it to his chest, curling her fingers around the vis bulla there, warm from his skin. She felt the sharp surge of power and, along with it, a surprise increase in pleasure so that she gave a little gasp. His mouth, tight with control, eased into a quick smile; then, with a meaningful look in those dark eyes, he slipped his fingers between their bellies to press against her amulets.

An erotic shock sizzled through her, and her gaze flew up to meet his dark, knowing one. “Don’t let go,” he