Page 9 of Marked By Blaze

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I say, but despite my efforts, my gaze slowly drifts to the man seated at a table by the door, his eyes locked on us. He’s with another man, who’s clearly a club member as well. He must have been Jade’s escort to the café since Blaze came to get me. I quickly look away, fighting the heat climbing my cheeks.

“You are doing it now.”

I shake my head, desperately reaching for the menu. “Y-you promised to feed me.”

“I suppose I did,” Jade concedes, and when I look at her, it’s to find her watching me with amusement. “And Ingrid?”

“Yes?”

“His jacket looks good on you.” Shit, I didn’t realize I was still wearing it. “You should ask Blaze what it means when a Rebel lets you wear his jacket.”

And with that, she turns back to the menu.

Chapter Four

Blaze

“Is that her?”

An elbow to my side nearly forces my gaze from the girl standing by the flickering firepit, her laughter dancing in the warm evening air. For a solid hour, I’ve been watching her, captivated by how the flames illuminate her features and the way she lights up when she smiles.

I’ve never seen her smile like that before.

In the days since I met her, I have been neglecting my club duties and following Ingrid around like some lost puppy looking for its owner. Something has tethered me to her, and I can’t bring myself to break away from her, unless of course I’m doing something to help her. Once I realized what a lazy asshole her landlord is, I’ve been taking care of Ingrid, making her life easier in any way possible, from something as simple as changing the light in her closet or fixing her hot water, to putting the fear of God in her obnoxiously loud neighbor.

In that time, I have witnessed a lot of emotions on that pretty face. I’ve seen her sad, surprised, and even read confusion in her expression. She always looks so fucking gorgeous when she’s concentrating on her work, and I’ve sometimes spied a smile on her face, but nothing like what I’ve witnessed tonight.

She’s smiling now.

Whatever it is Jade is saying must be funny enough to elicit such a reaction from a girl who seems to hide in a shell, oblivious to her own beauty. She always avoids eye contact and looks down when people are talking to her. Is this to hide those beautiful and unique mismatched eyes? She does the same thing with her birthmark—angling her head to the side and letting her hair fall in such a way that whoever is talking to her doesn’t see the pretty crescent moon birthmark on her cheek.

She has nothing to hide, Goddamnit!

I want to hunt down whoever told her that she was anything but a fucking masterpiece and teach them a lesson. Ingrid is the most stunning woman I have ever seen. In my life, I have been around beautiful women of all shapes and sizes, but not one of them has ever grabbed and kept my attention the way Ingrid does by simply existing. She draws me in like the moon pulls at the tide, and I am helpless to do anything about it.

Ingrid has slowly turned me into an obsessed madman. One who can barely function without getting his daily dose of her. All I want is to take care of her.

Protect her. Mark her. Claim her.

I want to make her mine. Touch every inch of that perfect body. Kiss that perfect mouth and the birthmark she hides from the world. Have those eyes focus on me and only me as I pleasure every inch of her body until she’s wet and desperate. Fuck, I want to bury my face between those sexy legs, lap her at her pussy, and make her all slick for me.

My cock aches with the thought of fucking her. In my room downstairs, my bike, or at her place. It doesn’t fucking matter where it happens, I’ll rock her world. Every slam into her wet pussy will claim her as mine. I want to watch her come apart in my arms before I mark her with my seed.

Fuck, the image alone is enough to have my stiff cock aching behind my fly, but I ignore it.

Patience.

I can’t afford to spook her with my fevered need, especially not when she’s this guarded around people.

I can wait. Iwillwait.

“Are you going to stand here all night watching her?” Axel asks at my side, his voice carrying a teasing tone. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and grinning widely at me.

“Fuck off, Axel,” I grunt, turning back to look at Ingrid and ignoring the club’s official mechanic. Axel is one of the people I consider family and the only one who would willingly approach me when I am in this mood. My scowl and dark mood have kept people away most of the night, but Axel is the kind of guy to poke the hornet’s nest.

“I’ve known you for what, ten years?” he muses. “This is the first time I have seen you mope over someone. You know, one of the prospects was talking about hitting on her—”

My head whips around, mind flashing with fury and murderous thoughts. “Who?”

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