Page 71 of Hate Mates

He brings his face close, inches from mine. “You’re so smart, yeah? The BTMC princess with all the answers.”

“It’s why my father trusts me with the club’s books.” I watch his reaction as I throw my patched status in his face. Unlike Elias Schwartz from CCMC, my father made a place for me among his officers. I wear a patch as the BTMC treasurer, while Blaze still sports a bare cut.

“At least”—he smirks—“I’m smart enough not to get myself tied up by my sworn enemy.”

I buck against my restraints. When they won’t budge, I meet his gaze. “From the day we were born. Or have you forgotten the fallout between our fathers?”

Blaze’s jaw ticks, a muscle feathering beneath the stubble.

He reaches up and braces himself on the beam above my head, hovering over me. “Tell me, Corvina. Ever wonder how shit would be if our fathers didn’t hate each other? If we weren’t born enemies?”

The question taunts me with its impossibility. I want to laugh it off, to tell him it doesn’t matter. There’s no changing who we are.

But something in his eyes stops me. A flicker of vulnerability, a glimpse of the boy he used to be before the MC hardened him.

I consider his words. What if we had met under different circumstances? What if our last names didn’t define us or dictate which side of the battle we stood on?

“No.” I shake my head, banishing the dangerous thoughts. “We can’t erase history.”

Blaze’s lips curve. “Maybe not. But we can choose how we play the hand we’re dealt.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “What are you saying?”

He leans back, his gaze never leaving mine. “What if hate isn’t inherited? It’s possible that we don’t have to blindly follow in our fathers’ footsteps.”

I scoff. “Ironic, don’t you think?”

He gives me a questioning look.

A laugh erupts from my chest. “Strange that you’re making that argument, Blaze. You’re the shining star of CCMC, always eager to impress your Prez and prove yourself.”

Blaze’s eyes harden. “Don’t pretend you know shit about me, Vina.”

“I know you’re a traitor to my club and yours. Your stunt may have killed both our fathers.”

He slams his fist against the wooden beam, making me recoil as dust rains down. “For the last fucking time, I had nothing to do with it!”

His chest heaves with ill-contained rage.

“Prove it,” I bark. “Untie me.”

“Yeah…no.” His eyes roam from my tied hands down my body. “I kind of like you like this.”

“If you’re not behind it,” I say, my voice a growl, “let me go so I can find out who is.”

A storm of emotion darkens Blaze’s bright eyes. For a moment, I think he might listen and release me. But his gaze drops to my lips, and his expression clouds with a hunger that sends chills racing over me despite the warmth of the barn.

“Blaze...” I warn too late.

His mouth crashes down on mine, hard and demanding. I gasp, and he takes advantage, his tongue sweeping inside. The brutal kiss is all teeth and tongues and desperate need. I tell myself to resist, to bite his lip and shove him away.

But my body betrays me. I melt, a moan escaping as his hands come up to cup my face. He tastes like fire and sin, a slow burn of whiskey and ash, laced with temptation and ruin.

I’ve never been kissed like this. As if he wants to consume me, to brand me as his. It’s terrifying and thrilling, something dark hatching between us. And I can’t get enough.

Blaze groans as he deepens the kiss. His fingers tangle in my hair, tugging. I strain against the ropes, desperate to touch him, to feel his skin.

He breaks away, breath ragged. “Fuck, Vina. What are you doing to me?”

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