Page 17 of Marked By Blaze

My brows knit in confusion as I walk to my workstation and sitting on my desk is a cup of coffee and a box with two banana muffins. My nose wrinkles at the smell of banana. I haven’t been able to stand the smell since I was a child.

Tiffany didn't get me the breakfast I had at home.

Even if she doesn't know that I hate bananas, who else outside my family would know?

“Your stalker,” a little voice at the back of my mind whispers, but I shrug off the thought.

I don't have a stalker! Sure, I've felt eyes on me for a couple of days now, but every time I look, there's no one there. There is no use getting paranoid over something that's not real. Maybe it's a coincidence. Maybe my dad somehow found out about the café and wanted to send a surprise. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.

“Ingrid?” I look up to find Tiffany standing by my station, and by the way she's watching me, I can tell it's not the first time she's called my name. “Your appointment.”

“Right!” I jump up from my seat. “Right. I...I'll get going.”

“Are you okay? I can get someone else to cover for you if you're feeling sick.”

I shake my head, already packing up my things. “I'm fine. Just a little tired, but I'm fine.”

I'm fine.

Chapter Seven

Blaze

“Next!”

The men outside the boxing ring shake their heads when I call in for the next challenger to climb in. The prospects are always begging for a chance to spar with the club's enforcers, but now they're cowering away? This is the one time they can get a real fight from me, but they’re all shaking their heads at me.

I watch them from the center of the boxing ring, feeling energy buzzing around me. Sparring with four prospects has barely taken the edge off the restlessness I feel. I need an outlet for it all, but none of these fuckers are willing to take the risk after watching four of their brothers take a beating.

Fuck, it feels like I am going out of my mind. Being in the same building as the woman I want and not being allowed near her is driving me to madness. She’s at Jade’s bridal shower on the first level where the bar is, and none of the guys are allowed in there.

One would think that the men would be pissed off about having their space taken over, but I guess there is an exception when it's beautiful women doing the taking over. And it feels like a fucking kick to the balls when I know that one of those beautiful women is doing her best to avoid me.

“Next!” I growl, my voice echoing through the room we use as a gym. On a typical day, men would be lifting weights, talking sports, and lightly sparring in the ring, but they're allstanding outside it now, watching me. On a normal day, I’m a good fighter. One of the best—if not the top fighter in the MC—and part of that is keeping my temper in check. But today, I’m a raging bull.

“I'll spar with you,” calls out a voice, and Iturn around to spot Kyle climbing into the ring. He's a prospect, young, untried, and eager to please. I smirk at his courage. The kid is more than a decade younger than me, and I outweigh him by a solid fifty pounds at least, not to mention my experience, but he doesn't seem discouraged by any of that. Joining the Steel Rebels MC requires putting yourself out there, and it seems he’s eager for the challenge.

“You don't expect me to take it easy on you, do you?”

“I'm not a kid,” he says firmly, more for the people watching us. At eighteen and the youngest prospect in the club, he probably gets called a kid a lot. Is he trying to prove himself? Well, he picked the wrong time and the wrong person, but despite the rage brewing inside of me, I decide to take it easy on the kid…a little.

He bounces on his feet, throwing a few jabs, and he's quick. I would even consider him good if he were sparring with other prospects, but I don't have time to waste on training anyone. I let the kid get one hit in before I have him lying flat on the floor, an arm around his throat as he taps furiously on the floor.

“Let go!” he wheezes.

I release him and get up. Barely a minute after climbing into the ring, Kyle gets to his knees, coughing up a lung before rolling out of the ring. The other men pat him on the back for trying.

“Next,” I say impatiently.

“Jesus Christ, Blaze. Are you trying to scare everyone?” calls out a voice from the back, and the men make way as Axel walks forward. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

Now here's someone who can match my strength.

“Quit talking and come in.” I raise a single brow. “Unless you are scared.”

Generally, an easy-going guy, Axel laughs. He's in jeans, and I wonder if he came down here having heard from one of the others what I was up to and decided he should intervene. I've sparred enough times with Axel to know he's a worthy opponent. Perhaps even an equal, but I have rage for fuel burning through my veins.

Excitement fills the air as Axel climbs in, rolling his sleeves and cracking his grease-stained knuckles so loud I can feel the air shift in the room. “Let's see what you've got.”

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