Page 20 of Marked By Blaze

“Thanks,” I say, unsure of how to respond to the venom I see in his eyes.

“Oh, I bet you’re happy. Why wouldn’t you be?” he responds harshly, moving forward and forcing me back a step. “Did it feel good? Sending that animal after me?” I gasp when my back connects with the wall. “That fucking beast punched me in the face and threatened to kill me if he ever heard a peep from my apartment. Never pictured you for a patch bunny, sleeping around with men like that!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, my hands clenching around my phone. His eyes drop to my hands, and I watch him take in my outfit. His eyes darken with something sinister as he trails them over me. “James—”

“At first, I was surprised he could look past that mark on your face and your creepy eyes,” he says. “But I can see the appeal now; your body more than makes up for your face.”

My stomach lurches as he presses closer, and I think I might actually be sick. No, he’s not…

“I did not send anyone to talk to you, James. I’ve never complained about your music,” I start, hoping I can talk my way out of whatever he’s thinking. “I’m sorry if someone hurt you, but it wasn’t me who sent them. I’ll just go—”

“The fuck you will!” He grabs my arms, forcing my hands apart, and I drop my phone once more. He presses me against the wall with his body and brings his face close to mine. The sensation of his hot, putrid breath against my face freezes me in place for a moment, but I’m jolted back to reality when I feel hishardness pressed against my stomach. Blaze had me in a similar position only a few days ago, but my reaction to James couldn’t be more different. Where Blaze made me feel excited and safe at the same time, James’s touch makes my skin crawl, and I start panicking. A cry tears from my throat as I twist my body back and forth, trying to wiggle out of his grasp, but his nails dig into my skin. James isn’t as big as Blaze, but he’s still so much larger than I am, and his grip is strong.

“Let me go,” I scream in his face. It makes him ease back just enough for me to instinctively bring my knee up into his groin. He yells and doubles over, but doesn’t fully let me go.

One second, I’m turning my body as far as I can to break his hold, and in the next, he's flying across the hallway. His grasp on my arms pulls me forward a step before he lets go and I nearly fall to the floor. When I catch myself, I turn to see James crumpled on the floor against the opposite wall. He’s clutching his head, and there’s a hole in the plaster where he must have struck it. Given his obvious pain, I can only assume he hit it headfirst, and the petty part of me hopes he has a concussion, or at the very least, one hell of a headache.

I turn when I notice movement to my left, unsurprised at who I find standing there, glaring and breathing like an enraged bull. Blaze. There is something murderous in his eyes that sends a chill down my spine even though his anger is not aimed at me, but the whimpering man still on the floor.

“How dare you touch her,” Blaze growls, taking a step toward the man. The last thing I want is for Blaze to actually kill someone, and based on the way he approaches James, that’s clearly his intention, but I'm too shocked to do anything. I’ve never witnessed violence like this. I watch as Blaze picks James up from the floor like he weighs nothing and shoves him against the wall hard enough to leave another crater in the plaster. “Itold you to mind your fucking manners, and you wouldn't have to deal with me.”

“I'm sorry,” James croaks, wheezing when Blaze slams his fist into the man's stomach.

“I’m not the one you owe an apology.”

James is panting, his face beet red, and I spot blood trickling from his nose. It looks broken, and I realize he must have done it when he hit the wall. He looks scared for his life when he finally lifts his eyes to me. Earlier, they were angry and full of venom, and now, they are wide and terrified.

“I'm sorry, Ingrid,” he pants, his eyes pleading. “Please…I-I’m sorry. Please, ask him to let me go.”

I blink at the scene in front of me, unsure of what to do. There are so many questions floating in my mind, but there's only one dominant thought.

Blaze is here.

He came. The why and the how don't seem to matter in this moment. It's been four days. I've been counting. Four days of trying and failing to get the man out of my mind. He's in dark jeans and a white shirt that hugs those delicious muscles I've regretted not exploring when I had the chance.

He's here.I needed him, and he’s somehow here, protecting me.

I have a choice to make. I can send him away, or I can invite him in and finally touch him in the ways I’ve been dreaming about. All those insecurities that made me run away last time are pushed to the back of my mind as I walk to my apartment door. I dig around for my keys in my bag and open the door. Once I do, I turn to Blaze with what I hope is aninviting look before I step into my apartment, leaving the door open behind me.

The invitation is clear, but the next move will be up to him.

It doesn’t take long.

His mouth is on mine the second he steps into the room. No words are exchanged as he kicks the door shut behind him. I feel the thickness of his erection pushing against my stomach as he buries his fingers into my hair. The sensations that spark to life in me are a stark contrast to what I was feeling in the hallway moments ago. My hands land on his firm chest, loving the way his firm muscles feel under my fingertips. I inhale that potent, rich, earthy scent that is so much stronger on his skin than the jacket I’ve been sleeping with all week.

He’s here.

Kissing me with such desperation it has the spot between my thighs aching with need. I whimper when his free hand drops to my chest and his thumb strums my nipple, crying out when he squeezes it between his knuckles.

“Want you,” he growls, breaking our lips apart to kiss my jaw. My head tilts back as his lips graze my birthmark, and this time, it doesn’t send surprise shooting through my system. Unlike the first time when I was too scared to accept that someone could want me.

This time, it’s different.

I welcome his touch. No, I crave it. With the same intensity one would crave air after nearly drowning. God, I’ve been drowning these past several days thinking of him.

Wanting him.

“Blaze,” I moan when he pushes down a strap of my dress and squeezes my breast through the thin silk of my bra.My breathing grows harsh when he massages my nipple into pebbling, and I feel his cock pulse against my thigh. I want to touch him too, but my fingers hesitate when I slide them down to his stomach.

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