Page 7 of The Big Bad's Claim
I clench my jaw, studying her eyes. Kenna senses the tension in me, because she pulls back, tilting her head in doubt. Fuck, there’s no way around it. I have to claim her. If I see any of the others hitting on her or, God forbid, groping her, I will go mad. I will draw blood.
“There’s something else,” I say, putting her down.
“What?”
“The price for the deal. I know what I want.”
She nods. “Ask away. You’ve been keeping me and mine safe, so... Anything.”
She shouldn’t say this shit. I give her a once-over and force my gaze away from her curves. The wordanythingcircles in my head like a vulture. I shake myself back to reality. “Here’s the price: from now on, you’re mine.”
Kenna’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
I release a breath, squaring my shoulders. “As the captain of the Waywards, I claim you, Kenna. You are mine. Your life belongs to me, to do as I please. No one is allowed to touch you or talk to you without my permission. You are mine, and if anyone dares to touch you, I will maim them myself.” The words end in a roar, primal, raw, and completely unnecessary.
Shit. I may have gotten carried away.
Kenna’s eyes widen into saucepans, then her lips part. Her chest heaves, and I see the emotions crossing her face—fear, panic, betrayal. And she hates me. I know it, I know it deep in my bones. But if this is the one way to keep her next to me, then I will. I never said I was a hero, and if her hating me is the price of seeing her safe, then that’s what I’m going to do.
“I’m not an object,” she says, then catches her breath. She shakes her head, then shoves at my chest. “I’m not an object!” she repeats, voice growing stronger with confidence. “You don’t own me! No one owns me!”
“I do now.” And I whirl around to grip the doorknob. “That’s the price for our deal. You accepted it the moment you decided to stay.”
“This is not fair!”
“Get used to it.” I leave the room, holding the door open to look at her. The pain on her face almost breaks me. “You’re mine now.”
5
KENNA
Lying in bed, I stare at my phone with creased brows. My fingers fly over the keyboard as I exchange messages with my friends, telling them about the latest absurdity in my life. Blaise thinks he can claim me! How ridiculous is that? Are we back in the Stone Age? Is this merely a sign of how sexist this world is?
I tell that to my friends, and they agree, a waterfall of curses against Blaise taking my screen. Though I can’t deny how thrilled the prospect makes me. It’s the kind of thing I would never admit to—I am an independent woman, after all, and I don’t need a man. But the way he looked at me? Those deep blue eyes burned with feeling as he told me I was his.
Blaise wants me so bad he wants to claim me.
Now that I think about it, the signs are clear. How jealous he acted, how he never wanted me talking with his friends. I take a deep breath and release it, then close my eyes. When I think of Blaise, a warmth grows inside me. He’s made me feel safer than ever, even when I’m in a bar full of bikers. The men here are not gentle, quite the opposite, and something tells me that, if Blaise knew that they were talking about my ass, he’d become a supernova of rage.
I let the phone drop to my stomach. When I told him I couldn’t recognize a flirtation because no one flirts with me, I was being honest. No one ever does. And to have a man like Blaise want to claim me makes my blood fizzle like crazy.
Blaise is more handsome than a biker should be. He’s much older, yes, but the prospect of having someone who knows what he’s doing makes me warm and fuzzy. He’s never made himself to be a hero, or a gentleman, and that makes me more attracted to him.
Is there something wrong with me? He’s the exact opposite of what my mother always told me to look for in a man. He’s everything I shouldn’t want, and the man I desire the most. There’s an electric feeling to the way he touches me, and all that possessiveness should drive me away, but it doesn’t.
I’ve never felt more wanted, more desired. For a girl who got used to second place, to consolation prizes, it’s something new to be wanted so much. And he wants me.
The scene that happened half an hour ago plays in my head again. Blaise kissing me, his full lips devouring mine. How I went breathless with his hands on me, how he touched me when he hauled me up onto the dresser as if I weigh nothing. I consider how he told me the price, how he would claim me as his.
At first, it felt offensive. Now I feel special.
A bubbly feeling I can’t ignore starts in my chest. It’s there every time I think of him, and that’s become often. Blaise has taken over my thoughts when I know it shouldn’t happen. This can’t happen. My life and his life are too different. What are we doing once he solved my issue with Todd? Would he come to my workplace to pick me up? My mother would have a heart attack if she knew. If she had any idea...
But then, she adored Todd for being boring, and he turned out to be everything she didn’t expect. That should be a sign things are not as they seem. Blaise is a biker, yes, and a fierce one at that. But he makes me feel more special than anyone else ever did.
Maybe I should give this a chance. Maybe I should stop doing what Mom thinks is best, and just start living.
I sit up so fast my head swims. With my heart stammering in my chest, I shoot to my feet. That’s it. Todd might find me tomorrow, and if he kills me, what have I done with my life? How often did I do what I wanted? I shake my head, shake myself. No, that won’t do. I can’t take another day living with propriety when I could be living fully.
