Page 83 of Blood Taken (Blood Mafia 2)
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The driver stopsat a burger joint. We have to get out to order so he waits for us in the parking lot. Mateo waits with me like a nervous teenager, unsure of what to do on a first date. Frankly, it’s annoying. I nearly shout for joy when the order comes up. I grab the bag of food.
“Happy?” he asks.
I smile and shake the bag. “I will be.”
His face morphs into a smile I’ve never seen.
He’s happy.
My skin ripples with an itching sensation. I frown at my arms.
What the heck?
Am I allergic to Mateo being happy?
“Mateo,” a gruff voice calls before we get into the car.
I spin, recognizing the brutish tone.
Blaze is prowling toward us, illuminated by the streetlamps. His chest is puffed up like a roid-raging meat head. “We need to talk.”
“Do we?” Mateo drawls, sticking his hands into his pockets.
I clutch the bag I’m carrying and scowl at the wolf. His eyes flash yellow when he looks at me.
“I need Demi.”
“No.”
Blaze growls and reaches for me. Mateo smashes his fist into the wolf’s face. An angry snarl tears from Blaze's mouth.
“I’m taking her.”
His eyes are set in determination and I don’t think he’s going to let Mateo stop him. Instead of waiting to see how a fight between them would play out, I set the food on the top of the car and jump into the fray, placing myself between him and Mateo.
I wrap my hand around his throat and squeeze hard enough his eyes bug out.
“I’m not in the mood for another supe thinking they have rights to me.” I feel his skin pull away from his muscles in my palm.
His face begins to shift.
“Let me make myself very clear, Blaze.” I spit out his name like bitter fruit. “I will kill you if you don’t stop.”
Then I rip his throat all the way out. He howls in pain. I let him go, not waiting to see how he lands or how quickly he heals.
“Ready?” I ask Mateo, smiling like I’ve done no wrong.
He watches me with a funny look on his face. One might call it admiration. “You’re perfect.”
I step around his massive frame, wipe my hand with one of the napkins, grab the food, and get in the car. Then I glance at Blaze on the ground. He’s clutching his neck, holding his ravaged throat in place so it can heal.
The torrent of hate and rage pouring out of his glowing yellow eyes is enough to tell me I haven’t seen the last of him.
He’ll be back.
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