Page 41 of Blaze
The other woman goes to reach for Sydney before pulling her hand back, curling it against her chest. She licks her lips once, darting her eyes to me before back at Sydney. Hesitantly, she asks, “Does this have to do with Reaper?”
Sydney jerks back like she’s been slapped and shakes her head. “Nope,” she says, shaking her head hard enough her dark ponytail whips around her head. “Not at all. Now, come on, we need to figure out where we’re sitting the shifter families so they don’t start a fight.”
Sydney grabs the seating chart and slides it closer to herself, studying it like it holds the secrets to the universe. Lacy and I share a wide-eyed look before mutually deciding to let the topic drop. There’s clearly some history between Sydney and the president of the Knights of Hades, and it’s just as clear Sydney doesn’t want to talk about it.
The afternoon passes quickly in Lacy’s dining room. We get the seating arrangement worked out as best we can before moving onto the food, then the floral arrangements. Apparently, Cinder has insisted on treating it like a wedding so that Lacy can have the wedding of her dreams.
My own wedding wasn’t the one I’d always dreamed about. Looking back, I can see how easily Enzo steered me into the decisions he thought best, though at the time I fully believed he was an involved groom and eager to marry. I thought it was a sign of his love and was romantic. Even when he didn’t like my wedding dress, he’d been gentle about it. I’d felt sexy and beautiful, and while he complimented me, he had me try on more demure dresses. The simple strapless white ballgown was beautiful, but it hadn’t made me feel like a bride. But with the way Enzo’s eyes lit up with approval and him showering me with compliments in Italian, I told myself it was the right dress.
I wish I could go back in time and shake my younger self’s shoulders and tell her to run as fast as she can from Enzo.
You do things you never thought you would when you feel like you’re in love. I will never make that mistake again.
I can’t believe how quickly I forgot those lessons over the last week. I let Blaze blind me, let myself live in this false fantasy of safety with a man who showered me with physical affection. That’s all it is, though.
Walking in to hear Blaze tell Bones that what’s between us is nothing more than convenience and has an end date is the reminder I needed.
I need to think about myself first. Staying alive and safe is my priority, second only to escaping Enzo and the Santi Pastori. Blaze, no matter how safe he makes me feel, isn’t stability. He’s not a life—no man is. I need to stand on my own, and that means holding to my promise to leave Devil’s Haven as soon as I can.
No matter how much the idea of driving away from Blaze—and now Lacy and Sydney—hurts.
The front door opens, and all three of us look towards the wide doorway that leads into the living room. There, Cinder appears with another biker—Heathen, according to his patch—just behind him.
Lacy shoves up from the table, groaning with a good-natured smile as she meets Cinder halfway, tilting her head back for a kiss. Neither of them seem to care they have an audience as he cups Lacy’s face and deepens the kiss with such hunger I have to look away, my eyes burning.
I can’t help stealing another glance, though. If a man kissed me like that, I’d consider binding my soul to his for eternity as well.
Heathen clears his throat loudly and shoots me a grin when I look at him. Heathen fits his name perfectly. He looks like a hulking Viking berserker, and I’m kind of shocked that there are clothes that can fit him. His thighs aren’t tree trunks, his waist is. Whatever is bigger than tree trunks, that’s what his thighs are. He looks like someone was told to carve the biggest, baddest-looking Viking born of nightmares and he’s what resulted. His hair is pulled back into a braid with the sides of his head closely shaved. His face almost looks empty where I imagine war paint should be.
“If ya don’t cut him off, he’s more likely to carry Lacy off and fuck her than remember why we’re here,” Heathen says, his voice as raspy as someone who smokes forty cigs a day.
“Fuck off,” Cinder grumbles against Lacy’s lips, but Lacy steps away, her face flushed. She runs her hands over her shirt, tugging it down around her belly, looking at me and Sydney like we’d caught them mid-act.
Sydney’s the one who speaks up, while I’m still trying to ignore the yearning consuming me. I want what she has. Blaze’s face appears in my mind, but I cut those thoughts off. I’m convenient for him, and he’ll forget me as soon as I’m gone. I want someone who would destroy the world to save me.
“So why are you here, then?” Sydney asks as she collects our empty soda cans and empty plates we’d snacked from earlier. “It’s earlier than planned.”
My eyes go to the antique clock on an end table in the living room. She’s right. Despite it being dark, Blaze said he’d pick us up at closer to eight. It’s only fifteen until seven. Dread’s icy fingers start to close around my throat.
Heathen shoots me a look, and Cinder wraps his thick, scarred arm around Lacy’s shoulders, tugging her close to him.
“Stubs detected movement at the compound the Santi Pastori are holed up in with that Light Justicar bastard,” Heathen explains, confirming my fears. “He said something happened right after a pair of men left the compound but then everything looked exactly the same. Situations like this, we prepare for the worst-case scenario, so Reaper’s calling us all back to the clubhouse. You too, Sydney,” Heathen says, cutting off any protest.
From the look in her dark eyes, I imagine she’d planned to do just that.
“Grab what you need to keep working, sunshine,” Cinder rumbles and lets Lacy go. “Then we’re getting the hell out of here.”
Lacy sends a look to Sydney, clearly telling her friend to not argue, and Sydney lets out a long sigh but nods. She heads into the kitchen from where I hear her taking care of the empty cans and dirty dishes.
I don’t have much to collect since, out of habit, I didn’t bother taking more than my wallet this morning. It’s another sign that I’ve let myself get too comfortable here. If I had to run right now, I wouldn’t have any extra clothes or the small things that kept me feeling human while living between hotel rooms.
“Where’s Blaze?” I ask, following Heathen out of the house. The desert heat still fills the air, but the breeze promises a chilly night. The sun inches closer to the mountains in the west, the moon already halfway into the sky in the east.
“Said he had shit to do at the garage,” Heathen says with a shrug as he walks languidly towards the parked silver Chevy Suburban in the driveway. “He’ll be back at the clubhouse soon enough.”
“Right.” Too comfortable, I remind myself. It’s good that he’s not here to take me back. If he was, I’d be tempted to throw myself at him so I could feel safe in his arms. I can’t rely on anyone to help me, no matter how kind these bikers and women have been.
I make myself think of every person who got hurt trying to help me, holding tight to the familiar guilt and sorrow and letting it wrap around me like a blanket. I even make myself think of my parents, the scene of the accident and the black bags on gurneys.
