I fisted the front of his shirt harder, needing something to hold onto as heat tore through my veins, settling deep between my thighs. I was shocked at how quickly it happened—the wetness. It pooled in my underwear so quickly. I burned for him.
We moved together like magnets, pulled by something unshakable.
The kiss didn’t softly hint at our love; it roared it. So fiercely that even the woods seemed to tremble. A flock of birdsexploded from behind the treeline, swirling around our heads as we inhaled each other’s souls.
It was the best damn kiss of my entire life. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for permission. It was messy and hungry, just like us.
When he finally pulled away, our chests were heaving, breaths ragged, eyes locked as if we were the only two people in the world. His eyes burned like molten lava, flooded with his love for me.
I wanted to stay in this moment forever. But I tore myself away just enough to look at Jackson. His eyes gleamed with madness. His cheeks were flushed, his grin stretched too wide, fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. He wasn’t just angry. He was unraveling, consumed by a dark, careful kind of hatred.
The way he stared at Max made my stomach turn. Like he was already imagining where to put the body.
“Little one. Hold the shovel, please.”
My father’s voice slid to the forefront of my mind. The memory of him dragging the remains of his latest victim toward an open hole in the backyard.
I had stared at a single yellow daffodil growing beside the grave. My anchor to a life I didn’t want to be part of. I shut my eyes, pretending I couldn’t hear the shovel hit dirt. Or bone.
I was always surrounded by monsters. Even in my memories.
Maybe I was one of them.
Max tightened his grip on my hips, fingers digging like he knew I was disappearing.
“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m always here. Come back to me.”
I looked up at him, our eyes connecting. I fell into him as he continued to watch me like I was everything in the world that mattered to him. Like I was the moon, the stars, and everything in between.
Max was my yellow daffodil.
He didn’t want chapters written on him. He wanted the whole damn story.
He wantedme.I wanted him.
But only one of us would survive Camp Blackshear.
13
MAX
Icould still taste her when I pulled away. Sweet like watermelon.
She had melted into me. No resistance. No hesitation. Just heat and want and something deeper I hadn’t dared hope for. That hadn’t been a kiss. I had fucking imprinted my entire soul into her body.
Her hands were still tangled in my shirt, like she wasn’t ready to let go either. Her lips were swollen from my kiss. Her cheeks flushed pink. Her eyes were wide, stunned, glassy with need, looking up at me like something wild had been unleashed.
My hands were still tightly around her waist, holding her as if I needed the reminder that she was real—that this had just happened. She needed me to keep her grounded. I could see a faint veil behind her eyes as she drifted into her thoughts.
I was never going back now.
She was fucking mine. And I was hers.
She pulled away, forcing my hands to drop like I was laying down a weapon I didn’t want to part with. My fingers ached from the restraint. My body shivered with adrenaline. I pushed my hands into my pockets before I snapped and roughlydragged her into the woods, tearing all her clothes off in a heated frenzy.
I caught Jackson’s face, and holy hell, that motherfucker was seething. His jaw locked, eyes burning holes through us. The sight lit me up.
Good. I wanted him to choke on jealousy.
