Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie · (Roswell Fanfiction) · √

SEVENTY-NINE

I was too angry to listen in on what Max might be experiencing emotionally in his discussion with Michael. I was puffing up the pillows on our bed (a nicer way of describing my evident abuse of the cushions), as I was trying to get my feelings under control.

I didn't like how Michael treated Max. I didn't like how Michael (obviously) viewed himself as superior to Max and that Max's health and life was directly dependent upon Michael following orders. That Max's life came second, even when Michael was his primary protection.

I didn't know Michael well enough to have acquired a full understanding of his views on human beings, but I had a very distinct feeling they weren't very good. I quite clearly remembered how he had always treated me in school. His insinuations, his assumptions, that he was allowed to talk to me or treat me in a certain way.

I was pulling the duvet back when Max walked through the door to our bedroom. His feelings were cautious, as if he was trying to get a feel of the situation and figure out what to say. I wasn't hiding anything from him; my anger was simmering hotly through the bond making him very aware of my state of mind.

"Liz..."

"I would rather have Alex outside. Or Isabel." Even if they aren't as trained in combat as Michael is, I added silently.

I didn't look at him to evaluate how my annoyed tone of voice had been received. Instead I stepped out of the sweatpants and pulled the T-shirt over my head. Leaving me completely naked.

My back was to his as I got into bed and pulled the duvet up to my chin.

I had felt the effect the sight of my naked body had had on him. Especially with our very recent lovemaking at the front of his mind. Especially considering that I had never before undressed like that in front of him. Like I wasn't the least self-conscious about him seeing me. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to be in front of him, in the exposing light from the floor lamp, without any clothing to shield myself behind.

I was too angry to care. I wanted to get back to where we left off before Michael had disrupted the order I had recently been fighting so hard to regain in the midst of the chaos that was my life. I wanted to get back to Max and I, in bed, hiding in our bubble of privacy and love.

I squeezed my eyes tightly closed as his feelings washed over me and I tried not to let them affect me. They were slowly eating away at my anger, making the overwhelming emotion weak and non-important. The strength of what he was feeling for me - physically and emotionally - was making my body tremble. I curled further in on myself, pressing my knees together.

I was telling myself that I wanted to go back to sleep. That I wanted to forget about this whole Michael thing. The only way to do so was to literally close my eyes against it and wish it would disappear. Just like when you were a child and you hoped the monsters would disappear if you shut your eyes at them.

But at the same time, I wanted to lose myself in Max. I wanted him to help me get rid of the anger that didn't belong in me.

I felt the bed dip, heard the breeze of his breath close to my head, and I asked, "Is he outside?"

He neither gave a reply in words nor thoughts, instead pulling the duvet away from my body.

My eyes snapped open against the cold air, but before I had a chance to ask him what he was doing, his hand brushed against my neck causing me to freeze as my heart started a (by now) familiar excited rhythm. My skin was instantly on high alert, the sensation of my hair being moved over my shoulder, tickling my skin and exposing my throat, made me bite down on my tongue to silence a building moan.