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The disbelieving devastation on Garrett’s face as he’d yelled at Maxwell while clutching Maxwell’s own body against his chest seared as permanently into Maxwell’s mind as the qesh’s face.
His face, now.
Maxwell twisted his wrists and ankles once again, the ties biting into the cuts he’d already worn into his new skin. Garrett hadn’t wanted to believe what he’d seen, but he’d face the truth eventually. He wouldn’t be able to deny forever that the torvar he’d seen wriggle into the qesh who tried to kill him had come from Maxwell’s own body.
And then what would happen?
Maxwell had to bite back a cry as he yanked on his wrist hard and felt blood trickle down onto the chair. He knew Garrett, and the one thing Garrett could never accept was a traitor. The one thing Garrett couldn’t come back from was betrayal.
And Maxwell had lied to him. Over and over and over again.
Tears blurred his vision as he twisted and yanked in his restraints. Maxwell had hidden and lied and torn Garrett’s heart out with his own cowardice, and now he was going to be ripped out of this too-tall, too-thin body with its constant color changes and crushed under a rock just like his father had been.
Maxwell let out a scream and threw himself to the side so hard the chair toppled over. He cracked his head on the metal floor, and his vision flickered.
“What the hell?” The door in front of him opened, and a Cartel member Maxwell didn’t recognize and—couldn’t hope to with his vision flickering in and out as he tried to anchor his claws back into his brainstem—stepped in.
“Don’t approach it.”
No. Maxwell blinked rapidly and shook his head to clear his eyes. No, not that voice.
“I’ve got this. I have experience.”
Finally, Maxwell’s anchoring claws found purchase, and his blurring vision refocused in time to see Kurt Buck guiding the concerned-looking Cartel member back out of the room with a hand on his shoulder.
“Wait,” Maxwell managed to croak with his strange new voice, but by the time he’d gotten the word out, Kurt had already clicked the door shut.
“Oh, baby.” Kurt shook his head slowly as he turned from the door and looked down at Maxwell. Maxwell tried to keep his lower lip from trembling as he stared back up at Kurt from the floor, still tied to the chair, with his cheek pressed into the cold metal and the blood from his wrist dripping down his arm. “Look at you.”
“I’ve handled worse,” Maxwell gritted out through the pain of his throbbing head. He wasn’t sure that was true, though. And judging by Kurt’s pitying sigh, Maxwell hadn’t fooled him.
“You don’t have to be strong anymore, sweetheart.” Kurt came closer, his heavy boots making the floor under Maxwell’s cheek shake until their steel toes were barely a foot from his face. Then he crouched and cupped the side of Maxwell’s face not ground into the dirt. “I’m here now.”
Maxwell’s eyes slipped closed at the feel of familiar callouses on his cheek. He had a different cheek and a different body, but Kurt’s hand on him felt the same. And the part of Maxwell’s psyche that he hadn’t managed to excise still sank into the comfort of it. A breath shuddered out of him like a sob.
“Shh, I’m here now.” Kurt cooed to him as he stroked his cheek, but he didn’t pick him up off the floor, and Maxwell forced his eyes open.
He bared his teeth. “I didn’t ask for you.”
“You didn’t have to.” Kurt ran his fingers into Maxwell’s longer, finer hair. “You know I’ll always come for you. Even when everyone else throws you aside.”
“No one threw me aside.” Maxwell twisted to pull his hair free from Kurt’s grasp, but Kurt just tightened his grip.
“Don’t fool yourself, Maxwell.” Kurt anchored his hand in Maxwell’s hair and dragged his face up off the dirt to look into his own. Maxwell winced at the pain, but Kurt just pulled harder. “Look where you are. You’re tied up in a cell while your precious fucking Garrett Twal tries to convince his leader to kill you.”
Maxwell clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palm, but he had nothing to say. He couldn’t deny it. He was in a cell with his blood dripping down the zip ties that bound him to the chair. And he’d seen the way Garrett looked at him, and he had no doubt that Garrett wanted the disgusting, terrifying, lying worm that he’d just discovered to be dealt with as harshly as possible.
But still, Maxwell shook his head. “He didn’t throw me away.”
“God, sweetheart, you’re delusional.” Kurt finally grabbed the arms of the chair and set it back on its legs. Maxwell’s vision warped again as blood rushed back out of his head, and Kurt cupped both his cheeks so that when his vision cleared, all he could see were Kurt’s green eyes. “He’s not coming for you. He wants to kill you.”
“That’s not his fault.” Maxwell clenched his jaw and breathed heavily out his nose before he could get the words out. “It’s my fault.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” Kurt petted his thumbs over Maxwell’s cheeks, and the agony of that confirmation lanced through Maxwell’s chest. While Maxwell struggled to breathe through the pain, Kurt pulled his face in and slotted his mouth over Maxwell’s slack lips.
Then hot on the heels of the agony, fury burned.
Maxwell ripped his face free of Kurt’s hands and screamed, “Stop touching me!”
