Page 82 of Hate Mates

“Of course. Be right back.”

The door opens and shuts again. I hold my breath until…

A soft knock at the bathroom door. “Vina? Baby, it’s me.”

Mom slips inside and faces me. Her green eyes are so like my own, now filled with tears and deep, aching sorrow.

“You have to go,” she whispers. “Before Stella gets back. The club…there’s something not right.”

I shake my head. “I’m not leaving you.”

Mom cups my face, her palms soft and warm. “Listen to me. When I say something’s not right, I mean the club’s out for blood. They want revenge on the Crown City bastards. But you and I both know your dad wouldn’t want anyone making the war worse because he died.”

I clench my jaw. Dad was always level-headed. Between the MCs, he wanted a truce. Not only because he craved peace, but because he didn’t want more bloodshed with his half-brother.

“Mom, I can’t lea?—”

She locks her grip on my chin. “You have to. I think Grit has something to do with it.”

“Dad’s VP?” Gears begin shifting in my mind. I was so angry when Iron arrived at the barn, I couldn’t recall. Did he finger Grit in all this?

Mom nods. “I don’t know the extent, because he’s kicked everyone out of church.”

“Fuck, really?” I scowl. Dad always kept club business in the open, claiming it’s one of the reasons he’d left CCMC.

“Yeah,” Mom says, “and I’ve heard that they’re looking for you… and Crown City’s quarterback.”

She eyes me and I blush.

“Come on. You have to go. Call me at the house in the morning.”

“Mo—”

“Hush, Vina.” She pushes me out.

Peering toward the nurse’s station, I see Stella bend over and extract a can from the vending machine. I adjust my wig and dart back to the room where I left Blaze.

My lungs burn and my vision blurs with unshed tears. This has to be a nightmare. But the antiseptic smell, the flickering lights, the ache in my chest where my heart used to be—it’s too vivid to be a dream.

When Blaze sees me, he pushes away from the wall, crossing the room in two long strides. Without a word, he pulls me into him, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other presses me tight against his solid chest.

Trapped like that, my dam breaks.

“He’s dead,” I croak. “My father…he’s gone.”

Blaze doesn’t speak. He just lets me fall apart in his arms. I hit him, over and over, pouring all my grief and rage and helplessness into each blow. He takes it, not even flinching, hismuscles absorbing the impact.I don’t know how long it lasts. Eventually, my arms fall to my sides, limp and exhausted. My cheeks are wet, my throat raw.

Blaze’s hand rubs soothing circles on my back while the other cups my face, his thumb brushing away the tears. He holds me, not saying a word, just letting his touch comfort me the way nothing else can.

Pressed against him, I become aware of his body. The hard planes of his chest, the corded muscles, the heat of his skin bleeding through his shirt. And more. The crackle of electricity between us has nothing to do with grief. Sex won’t erase what I’m feeling, but he can distract me long enough to get some focus back.

I tilt my head back to look up at him and find his eyes already on me, dark and intense. His gaze drops to my mouth and I lick my lips.

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then he speaks in a rough tone. “Vina…"

I don’t let him finish. Rising up on my toes, I crush my mouth to his, desperate for the oblivion he can give me. For a few blissful moments, I don’t want to think or feel. I just want to lose myself in him.

Blaze hesitates for only a second before he’s kissing me back, his mouth hot and demanding on mine. With a groan, he spins us around, pressing me up against the wall. His hands slide down my sides to my hips, gripping tightly as he grinds into my ass. His length is so hard against my leather pants, through his sweats. A thrill rockets through me.

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