Nevermore: The Final Maximum Ride Adventure (Maximum Ride 8)

The truth of that statement hit me harder than it should have. It was just so easy to forget that Dylan had been created only two years ago when he looked my age.

“A lot’s been happening lately,” he went on in a rush. “Usually I’d just deal with it, but it’s a lot to absorb, and I was lying there in bed thinking about all the screwed-up things that Ari guy said, and… I don’t know.” Yeah, sounded a bit like my evening.

He looked up at me hopefully. “So can I stay in here? Just for tonight? On the floor or something.”

I hesitated a second more, then sighed heavily and gave a tiny nod.

Relief crossed his male-model face. He came in, dragging his quilt behind him like a little kid, and closed the door quietly. “Thanks.” He looked embarrassed to be needing something, to be this vulnerable. I could have eviscerated him just then, but I hadn’t.

Because I am a freaking princess about other people’s feelings.

“No prob,” I said. “Pull up a patch of floor.”

He shook the quilt out and lay down with a lithe grace, his smooth muscles rippling. I swallowed, trying not to think of how those arms had brushed against mine in the theater. He tucked his wings behind him as he lay on his side—none of us were back sleepers, for obvious reasons. With one hand he reached back and pulled the quilt over him.

He looked big and strong and vulnerable and really, really… appealing.

I flicked off the light and threw my pillow down to him. It landed on his face.

“Thanks,” he said again, pulling the pillow off and bunching it up under his head. “This is just for tonight.”

“Better be,” I muttered, then drifted back to the thoughts that had been eating away at me. Everything that Ari had said had been growing larger in the quiet of the night.

“Dylan?” I said after a few minutes.

“Hmm?”

“What did Ari mean, about ‘cease and desist’? Why would he come looking for you if you’d never even met him before?”

Dylan didn’t answer for such a long time that I thought he’d fallen asleep. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t understand any of it. I never understand why anyone involves me in anything.”

I rolled my eyes. I had little patience for self-pity, and if I’d had another pillow, I would’ve chucked that at him, too.

“He said not to worry about Dr. Gunther-Hagen,” I pressed, my voice sounding small and shrill in my ears. “Maybe he meant you shouldn’t worry about being my perfect other half, like Hansy said. Maybe he meant you should stop pursuing me.”

“Maybe,” he said quietly, and my heart thundered in my chest. I was glad I couldn’t see his face in the darkness. “But I can’t, Max. You know I can’t.”

We were quiet again, each of us listening to the other’s breathing. Finally, Dylan exhaled, long and slow. “Good night, Max.”

I stared at the ceiling, willing my thoughts away from his body, his breath. “Good night, Dylan.”

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33

FANG DYLAN

Knows me better than anyone (both a positive and a negative). Practically just met me (less blackmail material).

Can completely trust him (probably). Seems trustworthy (so far).

Helps me stay tough. Helps me admit I can’t always be tough.

Doesn’t care about social skills. Like me. A freaking social butterfly. Complements my antisocial behavior.

Has eyes that seem to see inside me. Not good. Has eyes that make me forget myself. Not good.

Is capable of bringing the meaning of “irritating” to whole new levels. Is capable of… pretty much the same thing.