Page 40 of Loyalties & Longings

I turn to Blaze to thank him for the lift and see a worrying grimace on his face.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” I ask, instantly thinking I’ve done something wrong. Maybe that’s why he has been so quiet and distant on the drive over.

Eyebrows pulled in and mouth pressed into a thin line, he reaches his giant hand out and cups the back of my neck, running his thumb over the front of it. “I hurt you last night, Siren. I didn’t even realize until now.” His voice is somber.

My hand shoots straight up to my neck to feel it, remembering the knife at my throat. Pulling the truck’s visor down, I look in the mirror. Goddammit, there’s a cut there, obviously from the knife. But it doesn’t stand out much, so I know I will be able to pass it off as nothing more than a scratch should anyone ask about it. I run my fingers over it delicately. It isn’t too bad, butit does sting, similar to a paper cut. I wince when I pull my hand away and notice Blaze wince, too, a little out of the corner of my eye. I turn to face him again and try to reassure him. “It’s okay, I’m fine. It’s nothing. You can barely tell.”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek and across his teeth, staring straight ahead out the front of the windshield. He’s annoyed.

“No, Lake. I said I would never hurt you and well, I thought I meant it. This is so fucked up.” After a short pause, he starts again. “Ididmean what I said. I would never hurt you, but when we do…” he looks sideways at me, “… what we do, I don’t even realize that something comes over me. I can’t control myself. I’m afraid that this, this monster in me, is truly going to hurt you, and I won’t even be fully aware.”

“Blaze, look at me.” I grab his hand and pull it to me. He turns his head to look at me properly. “This is on me too. I was there, I didn’t say no, and I didn’t stop you. If anything, I encouraged you. Maybe I wanted it even more than you did.” I shake my head and scoff. “The most fucked-up thing about it all is that I actually wanted you to press even harder with the knife.”

Blaze’s eyes widen a fraction at this admission before softening as he runs the back of his finger down my arm, and a shiver overtakes me. His touch is so electric.

“We are a dangerous mess.” He smiles.

“A hot, dangerous mess.” I nod, biting my bottom lip in reply.

“Do you want me to come in with you and help out for a while before I head out to do some collections?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll only be cleaning up. Just boring house stuff and, of course, looking after Dad. You go, I’ve got this,” I reply, leaning over to give him a quick kiss goodbye. He cups the back of my head and kisses me more deeply, grabbing a fistful of my hair. Everything is so urgent, passionate, and sexual with him, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

Breaking the kiss, I open the truck door and turn to tell him to message me as I climb out. He reaches over and grabs my ass, a finger gliding over my sex through my pants in the process. Giving out a yelp, I turn.

“Blaze! Not here at my dad’s house!”

He gives a small chuckle in response.

“Have a good day,” I say with a playful smile.

“I will, beautiful,” he replies with a wink.

Pushing the truck door shut, I wait for him to take off but realize he won’t go until I’m inside the house. Rolling my eyes, I turn and make my way over to the front door doing my best saunter, knowing exactly where his eyes will be focused.

Once inside, I quickly wave back to the truck and close the door, placing my forehead on the back of it. A huge smile spreads across my face, and all I can think is that I have absolutely and irrevocably fallen for Blaze. Nobody hasevermade me feel like this—butterflies in my stomach, sexually hungry for only them, making me smile when we aren’t together, and making me smile even more when wearetogether—all the time.

Holy shit.

I think I am inlovewith Blaze Diavolo.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lake

Dad wasn’t too bad, not as bad as I thought he would be anyway. Although he must have drunk at least a bottle and a half, maybe even two bottles, of whiskey yesterday. He has a terribly bad headache, as expected, but judging by the state of the house when I walk in, I’d thought he’d have alcohol poisoning.

I cook him the perfect meal for a hangover—a nice greasy breakfast of sausages, eggs, and bacon, plus a nice strong pot of coffee—even though it’s a little after lunch. He seems to be a lot better now. Thank goodness, and even though I’m a little drained from tidying the house and taking care of him, I feel as though I need to go for a run.

Dad is straight into his work after eating and on the phone with someone when I head to my room to change into my running gear. The thought of freeing my mind and taking in the fresh air already has me feeling more at peace.

I walk to Dad’s office, intending to let him know where I’ll be for the next half an hour. As I make my way there, though, I hear him yelling and banging. Was that his fist slamming down on the desk? I’m not going to bother him when he’s already frustrated and angry. Obviously, something hasn’t worked out the way he’d planned, or something has gone wrong. I don’t need to bother him with trivial shit like letting him know I’m going for a run. He’ll probably insist I have someone with me anyway. I’m a grown adult for goodness’ sake.

It’s an oddly cool day for the middle of fall, and the moment I step outside, the crisp, cool air assaults my body—inside and out. My skin instantly chills, and it feels as though I’m inhaling a mixture of fire and ice because it’s so cold it burns. I slip in my earbuds so I can get in the zone.

As always, I start walking as a means of a warmup and to get used to the chilly air. When I reach the end of our long driveway, I notice a particularly shady black van parked in the street across from our house.It’s probably just a delivery van for the neighbors, nothing out of the ordinary, I think to myself.

Right?

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