Page 8 of The Big Bad's Claim
With him.
I run my hands down my clothes—a comfy pair of pants and an old t-shirt of mine. Mm, maybe I should change into something else. The idea blooms in the back of my head, and it’s so outrageous and so out there heat spreads across my face. My mother would call me names if she knew what I’m planning.
Quickly, I change out of my shirt, searching for the one I have in mind. I put it on and, before I can regret it, I slip out the door and make my way to the main part of the bar. Half of the tables are full now, and it’s getting rowdy. Several girls sit with the guys, but the men still greet me when I enter. They smile and wave, some even shoot thumbs up in my direction. It’s not the same as they treated me before. It’s almost like I am now one of them. There’s familiarity in the way they talk to me, an entirely new friendliness.
Blaise sits with his back to me, but he turns with my approach. Like he feels me. Like he feels me the same way I feel him. Our gazes lock, and he gives me a once-over that stops at the shirt I’m wearing.Hisshirt. The blue eyes on his face, usually so beautiful and bright, darken into almost black. A shiver of heat rushes within my body and pools between my legs.
“Hey,” I greet him once I’m close enough.
Blaise says nothing. He just watches me, with those burning eyes and a vein throbbing in his temple.
The man sitting with him chuckles. “Holy fuck, you’re going to explode, my man.”
Blaise grunts. “Fuck off, Wrath.”
“Will do,” Wrath says before shooting to his feet. He nods in my direction, then makes his way to another table. The other men watch us for a second, but one warning growl from Blaise is all they need to look away.
Blaise sits back. “You look good in that,” he says in a low voice. “I pitied it when you changed into your clothes.”
I chew on my bottom lip, stepping closer. “Since you’re claiming me, I thought it made sense.” This is a message I’m sending. I want him to know he might claim me, but I am claiming him, too. He is the one I choose.
Blaise’s jaw clenches. He offers me a hand. “It makes perfect sense.”
I take his hand and let him pull me closer to his body. With my heart pounding, I sit on his knees and run my hands up his shoulders to his thick neck. He makes me feel so small and so safe. Even with all the surrounding noise, with all the people sideglancing at us, Blaise makes it feel like we’re in a bubble. Just the two of us. His hands on my hips, his eyes on my face.
Leaning, I brush my lips against his. He tenses, fingers squeezing my sides. I freeze, meeting his eyes. “Isn’t this alright?” I ask him, afraid this might break some unknown law in the club.
He releases a shuddering breath, then tightens his hold on me. “Fuck, Kenna,” he murmurs. “What are you doing to me?”
And, before I can answer, he stamps his mouth on mine, his fingers burying into my hair. I breathe out against him, his body molding to mine, his heat becoming my own. We hold on to each other as we kiss—as if we need this contact to avoid slipping away. Blaise’s kisses mark me, claim me, more than his words could ever do.
We spend the night in the bar, laughing and chatting and drinking, and it’s happiness so unlike anything I’ve ever experienced I forget everything else. I forget about Todd, and the dangers lurking outside. I ignore the buzzing of my phone, tucked into the waistband of my pants. Everything else is background noise. Everything but Blaise.
6
BLAISE
Best night ever. Shit, I have no idea when was the last time I had this much fun. Kenna and I chatted for hours on end, then we came up to the bedroom. I expected to kiss her goodnight before I went back to the bar, and sleep on a chair again. She squeezed my fingers and asked me to join her. The bed is too small for us to share with comfort, but that’s what we did.
Her body next to mine made me think of nothing but filth, but I respected her and kept my hands to myself. She snuggled onto my shoulder, and God, that was the best feeling in the world. To have her against me, her hand on my chest, to smell her from so close. My blue balls are the worst of the century, but she slept next to me. She trusted me enough to do that. Nothing feels better.
I open my eyes to the morning light. Shit, I forgot my bedroom had no blinds. I should have put some on for her. Reaching out, I search for her hand on my chest, but I don’t find it. Turning my head, I miss her body against mine. She’s not in bed, and nowhere in the bedroom. Where is she?
I sit up and scratch sleep from my eyes. Bathroom. Yeah, that has to be it. What time is it? I check my phone and read the early messages. The guys who have been checking on Kenna’s mother and friends all give me the okay before they come home so another one takes their place. I previously freed the ones monitoring her apartment—the fucker didn’t show up again, so I got my men circling his usual spots to find him.
Motherfucker is slick as a fish. My brothers would have tired of this already, but they know it’s a deal, and we keep our promises. Things are more serious now that Kenna is mine—that Kenna is one of us. We will go to the ends of the Earth to make sure this fucker never touches her.
I stretch, then get to my feet. Time is ticking, and I have shit to do. With all this hunting after Kenna’s ex, I haven’t had the time for a ride. A true, long ride, the wind on my face, the bike purring beneath me for hours on end. I had been organizing one with the club for this week, but with this whole Todd shit... I put it off, but I know I can’t do that for long. This fucker has to come up sooner than later.
Once I punch his face in, teach him a lesson, then disappear with his body, we’ll have peace. I’ll put my girl on my bike, and we’ll ride together, her body against mine. Kenna will forever have me to protect her, to keep her safe. She won’t ever have to work again if she doesn’t want to—I have some money from the odd jobs we’ve done as a club, even if it’s not legal money. She can go to school if she wants to, spend the day painting, or just sit on my lap as I go through club motions.
No, not that. I would never get anything done.
Opening the door, I spy into the corridor. The bathroom’s open. Isn’t she using this one? It’s the one I told all the others to avoid, so she’d have privacy. Weird. Did she go back to the bar? My heart skips a beat, jealousy seeping through my every pore. Every nerve in my body buzzes with the possibility of someone chatting her up. Not all of my brothers have heard about me claiming her. If one of them shows up and hits on her, for fuck’s sake...
I’ll have their heads for breakfast with the bitterest coffee I can brew.
Striding down the hallway, I make a beeline to the bar. My heart pumps so hard, I’m two seconds away from a heart attack. Where is she? Where the fuck is she? I can’t bear the idea of her being away from me, even worse when I don’t know where she is. Call me possessive, call me a jealous fucker, I don’t care. I can’t live without knowing where she is, and that she’s safe.
