"No!" Reine exclaimed as Max stumbled backwards against the entry door, but Gabe already closed the gap. Grabbing the front of his rival's crisp, button-down shirt, he pulled Max back up to a standing position.

"Stop!" Reine yelled again, trying to get closer in spite of Noor holding her back, but Gabe was undeterred. Ignoring her plea, he struck again, and Max's head flopped to the side from the force of a new blow against his jaw.

"Oh, shit!" Noor blurted out, both from the sight and from Reine escaping her grip.

In spite of her efforts to block him, Gabe was able to get in several more hits to Max's head and torso. Only when she placed herself squarely between the two men did he back away.

Still reeling from the unhindered beating, Max struggled to catch his breath as he leaned against Reine's shoulder for support. Pulling him out of the way to the opposite wall, she watched in astonishment as Gabe opened the door and took off without another word.

"Noor, please," she said, nodding after him, but her friend was already pulling on her shoes.

"Don't worry, Rennie. I've got this." She hurried out and slammed the door behind her.

After lowering Max to a sitting position, Reine knelt on the floor next him. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" She frowned at the blood trickling down the side of his face and brushed the disheveled hair out of his eyes.

He winced. "It's nothing."

"Right. Let's call a black eye, broken nose, a few cracked ribs, and I'm guessing a heck of a lot of soft tissue damage nothing." Reine pouted. "I'm still curious why you provoked him. And why on Earth didn't you defend yourself?"

Max turned his eyes in her direction without moving his head. "You wanted us to get along."

Reine scoffed. "I don't think we have the same definition of 'getting along.'"

"You saw how riled up he was," he said as he draped one arm across his chest and momentarily squeezed his eyes shut. Each word was clearly causing him more pain. "The kid needed to get it out of his system. Otherwise, he would have been just as uptight every time we got in the same room."

"Oh my God. You wanted him to beat the crap out of you?" Reine asked while playfully swatting him on the shoulder. "Unbelievable. Do you boys ever grow up?"

He finally smiled. "Of course not."

"Well, I can't bear seeing you looking like this. I'm going to get you a towel." She moved to rise, but Max grabbed her hand.

"No, just stay," he whispered.

Seeing his serious expression again, she sighed and sat down beside him. "You're going to feel pretty silly with all of that blood on your face in a few minutes once you heal."

"It's going to take longer than that." He reached over and took her hand in his. The touch of his skin wasn't warm as expected; his system definitely wasn't going into overdrive trying to heal itself.

"Oh, Max. Please tell me you're not drinking gin?" Reine cupped his damaged face in her other hand, stifling the urge to cry at the sight of his injuries. His eye was swelling shut, and his lip was busted. "I'd hate for you to look like this for a day or two while the juniper leaves your system."

He slowly moved his head from side to side. "No. I haven't touched the stuff in months. The last time was in Paris."

"Paris?" Reine wrinkled her forehead before her eyes widened. "You mean . . . but Chambord . . . where Sylvana . . .."

He nodded.

"Max, no!" Reine shook her head as tears flooded her eyes. "No. You didn't . . . you couldn't."

"I'm sorry, darling." He squeezed her hand. "I could, and I did."

She swallowed before whispering. "You mean . . . the knife wound was fatal, and you've been mortal ever since?"

Instead of answering, he sighed and leaned his head on her shoulder. The act added an unbearable psychological weight to the situation, and she finally broke down. Reine struggled to catch her breath until she could control her sobbing enough to speak again.

Even then, her words were weak and unsure. "You sacrificed your immortality for me?"

"I guess technically you could say that."

"You guess I could say that?" Reine pulled her body away, making him sit up straight. Her voice was now both sure and loud. "This is serious, Max. You knew I couldn't be hurt. Why would you put yourself at risk when you were so vulnerable?"

"Healing from a couple of fork pricks doesn't mean you can't get hurt, darling. You've been immortal for over five centuries yet you somehow were able to get pregnant. Plus, this has also caused you to regain all of your memories, so unless you've learned how this was all possible, I wouldn't so easily dismiss the possibility that you - in fact - can now get hurt," he said.

This would have been a perfect time for Reine to reveal some of what she had learned from Dr. Katsopolous. Telling Max she was destined to share his fate after giving birth would have no doubt eased his concerns about his newfound mortality. But he continued his explanation before she could interject.

"And we have no way of knowing how he - or she," he said, pointing to her belly, "would take your resurrection. Did you even consider that?"

Reine bit her lip self-consciously. No, she hadn't seriously thought about how Sylvana's blade could have affected her unborn children. She'd been selfishly thinking about just herself, assuming they'd share her fate. It took Max's insight to make her realize how close they came to possible death.

Max had not only foreseen this, but he also acted without regard to his own safety to protect them. He could now get sick or hurt, and he would get older. He would also eventually die without having another chance at life.

Reine wanted to cry again at the thought, but decided to focus on the woman responsible for so much grief around her. "I was surprised you'd let Sylvana back into your home before, but knowing this now . . .." She sniffled while wiping her wet cheek with the back of her hand. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"You mean her going back to Philly? I don't consider that home any more, so I really don't care whether she's there or not." His tone was full of unmasked contempt.

"What about Amara?" she asked.

"I'm working on getting her over here as soon as things settle down." He attempted to push himself up, but groaned after a small move.

Reine touched his shoulder, not knowing how to best help. "You need to go to the hospital."

"You know that's impossible." He looked her sternly in the eyes. "I don't know who I can trust, and the Order can't find out about this."

"Then hop on your jet, and go back to the states for a bit. Surely the Order doesn't have spies there." Anger was quickly replacing her sorrow.

"True, but Wescott doesn't want me to leave the UK."

"Screw Wescott," she spat without thinking.

He laughed before groaning in pain. "Soon enough, darling. Metaphorically, of course."

"Of course." Reine sighed. "You know these injuries are going to hurt like a bitch while they heal. You can go out into the countryside. Find a small village with a local doctor who can set anything that's broken and give you the proper painkillers or even antibiotics."

He pursed his lips as he thought it over. "That may be doable. I hear Scotland's nice this time of year."

"Excellent. I'm coming with you."

"No," he stated flatly.

Reine tilted her head in confusion. "Why not?"

"You're still supposed to hate me, remember? Between the rugby match and today, we've put on a good show, but all of this would have been for nothing if we suddenly started acting all chummy in public."

She frowned. "I don't like it, but I guess you're right. So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"What?"

"You said you came here to talk to me. What about?"

He smiled. "Nothing. I just wanted to see you."

"Or maybe you didn't want him to talk to me?" She winked playfully.

Max bit his lip to suppress another smile. "Maybe."

"You're terrible." Reine shook her head.

He leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. "I know."