Page 20 of Blaze

Sydney looks between us and Reaper but nods. Then, without another word, she heads down the stairs we came up. I can’t raise my eyes to look at the president of the club when we pass him, and Blaze doesn’t stop to talk. A minute later and he’s pushing open a plain wooden door and ushering me inside.

“You’ll stay here until we know you’re safe, got it?”

Blaze looks like he’s guarding the door, as if I’m going to bolt the second I get a chance. I frown. “I’m not stupid, Blaze. I’ve kept myself alive this long all by myself. I’m not going to try to leave yet.”

He looks at me for a long moment, and I try not to fidget under gaze. Or think about how amazing he felt when he had me caged against the bar, his lips and hands on me.

I’d never reacted so… so wantonly before, not even with Enzo, and our sex life had been good in the beginning. At least, I’d thought it’d been good. A heated kiss with Blaze and I’m questioning everything. Hell, even with this adrenaline drop, I’m still highly aware of Blaze at the door and how good he felt crowding me.

I definitely don’t need to be thinking about that right now. The last thing I need is to hook up with a biker who is a literal demon. Oh, god, and he killed someone tonight, too. Right in front of me.

A different type of panic grips me. I know Enzo’s hands weren’t clean, but the familia always kept the women shielded from their business. Maybe if they hadn’t, I’d have figured out who Enzo really was a lot earlier.

Not that it would have been any easier to leave him.

I force another breath out and look around at the room Blaze has brought me to. I’m not sure how I can tell, but I know it’s his room. The room is proportionate to him, making it feel like a hotel suite rather than just a bedroom in a house. Then again, given how he’s gotta be close to seven feet tall and massively broad-shouldered, anything I’m used to would be too small. The bed pushed up against the far wall is big enough to fit two of him, the sheets rumpled and unmade.

A huge dresser is on the wall parallel to it, with its top covered in stuff. Everything from what looks like receipts to some knives and even a gun. Apparently Blaze is the “see a surface, fill a surface” type. My fingers itch to tidy it up. His nightstand is crowded with beer bottles with a huge knife stuck into its top. To my surprise, there is a book, with a bookmark no less.

“Bathroom is through there,” Blaze grunts, indicating a door with his chin when I look at him. I nod and drop my gaze.

“Thanks,” I say after a long moment. I can’t look at him again. The emotions he causes are too confusing for me to handle right now.

Blaze waits a minute longer before he grunts and closes the bedroom door, leaving me alone. I raise my brows at the goodbye but remind myself I’m a hypocrite since I can’t even look at him.

Looking at his massive bed again, I flee to the bathroom. Shutting the door and locking it, I collapse on the closed toilet, shoving my head into my hands and gulping in air. My chest is so tight, it’s like I’m barely breathing as the familiar dread and panic cascades over me.

Riccardo is never going to stop. I should have thought about that when I killed Enzo. Oh, god, I actually killed him. For some reason, it’s just hitting me. Logically, I knew I killed him but it’s like it’s finally sinking in. The Santi Pastori have caught up with me, and now people who have taken me in and been kind to me are caught in the middle. If I wasn’t such a coward, I’d call Riccardo and give myself over to him. Then Sydney and Blaze and everyone who’s now threatened would be okay.

A sob hiccups out of me and shame overwhelms me. Because I don’t want to turn myself over to the mafia. I don’t want to die. And Blaze, for whatever reason, feels like a safe haven. I don’t know him and he has no reason to protect me, but he has and it seems like he’s determined to keep protecting me. I’m too selfish to give that up.

Scrubbing my eyes with the heel of my palms, I force myself to get up and go to the sink. The single sink counter is as cluttered as Blaze’s room and, in a sign that I’m losing my mind, it makes me huff out a laugh. I saw proof that Blaze is a demon tonight, but right now what I see—toothpaste squeezed in the middle and without a cap, the toothbrush clearly discarded beside it rather than in the holder, and a half-empty bottle of foaming hand soap—makes him human to me.

I splash some cold water on my face, then when I catch my reflection in the mirror, I use the soap to wash away the raccoon eyes as best as I can. He’s already dealing with enough of my shit. I don’t need to add looking like a mascara bandit on top of it. I have to use the towel hanging over the bar near the large walk-in shower to dry off, and if I bury my face in it for longer than necessary because it smells like him...well, no one is around to judge me.

Finally feeling a bit more in control, I head back into his bedroom. A part of me wants to snoop and be nosy, but another yawn makes my jaw pop and suddenly, my eyes are too heavy to keep open. So, instead, I make my way to the bed made for a giant. I slip off my flats and let my borrowed jacket fall to the floor, too tired to care about hanging it up. Still dressed, I climb into the bed and tug the blankets up over my head like I’m a little kid needing protection from monsters.

Except I’m not a little kid anymore, and I know blankets won’t stop the monsters in my world.

* * *

A dip in the bed jolts me awake, my heart climbing up my throat as I fight against whatever is holding me tight.

“Shit, calm down. It’s me.” Blaze’s voice cuts through my panic just enough that I don’t topple over the edge of the bed. I’m still caught up in something and a whine builds in my throat.

“I can’t—” I gasp out, struggling again. I realize now I’ve tangled myself up in the blanket and sheet, but it feels too much like being tied up.

Big, warm hands land on my shoulders. One of them stays there, holding me firmly while the other fists the material and tugs it down and away from my body, releasing me like he’s my Sam and I’d been caught in the creepy spider’s web like Frodo.

“Breathe, kitten,” he says, his voice a gruff rumble in the dark, and then he’s tugging me back until I’m sitting against the headboard. “You’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

I bring my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, and lean my head back, squeezing my eyes tight. I focus on my breathing, trying to settle my racing heart. Blaze shifts beside me, and when I don’t sense him getting up, I frown towards him. I can’t see him in the pitch black of his room.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He huffs, a suspiciously amused sound before shifting more on the bed. “Going to sleep. Like you should be getting back to.”

“What?” I swear my voice breaks. “You—I—we—”

---