Page 86 of Hate Mates

Something dark and ugly flashes in Grit’s eyes, but it’s not a match for Blaze’s fury. Grit has been backed into a corner, pride and power on the line in front of the men he seeks to command. He reaches for his own knife.

Grit lunges forward, knife slashing through the air. Blaze ducks then drives his fist into Grit’s stomach, doubling him over. Grit grunts as he headbutts Blaze, sending him staggering back.

They circle each other, feral and blood hungry. The BTMC members form a ring around them, a wall of leather. Their faces are hard, eyes glinting.

Grit feints left, slashes right. Blaze parries, steel clashing against steel. Sparks fly, illuminating the savage snarl twisting Grit’s face. He presses forward, raining down a flurry of blows. Blaze meets him strike for strike, muscles screaming with the effort.

Grit’s blade scores a line across Blaze’s ribs, parting leather and flesh.

And I gasp. My pain, I can handle, but not Blaze’s.

Hot blood runs down Blaze’s side, soaking into his waistband, but he barely reacts. His focus is honed, narrowed to this moment, to the pounding of hearts and rasps of breath.

My breath, though, is trapped in my chest.

Blaze lunges, slamming his elbow into Grit’s nose with a wicked crunch. Blood gushes, a viscous red. Grit staggers, but Blaze presses his advantage, hammering his fist into Grit’s jaw.

Grit bares his teeth in a sanguine grin. “That all you got?”

Blaze kicks out, booted foot connecting with Grit’s knee. A crack splits the air, and Grit howls, his leg crumpling. As he hits the ground, his knife skitters away.

Blaze is on him, forearm across the VP’s throat. He leans in close. “It’s over. Your power grab, your schemes. All of it. BTMC will never be yours.”

Grit thrashes, spitting and snarling. “Fuck you! I’ll kill you, bastard! And that bitch!”

The scene plays out at my feet, and I see the moment Blaze snaps.

Rage explodes behind his eyes, white-hot. He slams Grit’s head against the floor, once, twice. Bone cracks against concrete, and Grit goes limp, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Blaze,” I call out. My voice falters, so I try again, “Blaze.”

Finally, he focuses on me, blood splatter across his face.

“It’s over,” I say.

Blaze’s shoulders sag, and I glance up at Striker, the BTMC enforcer. He gets the silent message and cuts me loose.

I fall into Blaze’s lap, forcing his eyes to mine. “Look at me.”

His eyes dart around sightlessly, lost.

“Blaze.” I plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth. And another. “Blaze, see me.”

The knife in his hand clatters to the floor just before he wraps me in his thick, strong arms.

After a long embrace, he pulls back to search my face. Without hesitation, in front of everyone, his mouth covers mine in another punishing, owning kiss.

Cheers start softly, but grow. In seconds, the men are all standing around us hollering until we part, smiling at each other.

Striker extends a hand to Blaze and one to me. Pulling us up, he eyes up the son of CCMC and announces, “Seems you’ve just earned Prez around here, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Well…” Blaze stares at me. “There’s not anything left for me at Crown City. Is there something here?”

“Damn straight.” I leap into his arms, throw my arms around his neck, kissing him mine.

Epilogue

BLAZE & VINA’S ELDEST SON-28 YEARS LATER

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