The words land heavier than I expect. “I don’t want to hurt him,” I say.
Blaze studies me for a second, then his grin slips back into place. “Good. Because he’s terrifying when he’s moody, and unfortunately for all of us, moody is kind of his baseline. Aside from the fact that he’d make everyone’s life hell, I’m pretty sure Bella would blame me somehow, and I’m too pretty to die for someone else’s emotional damage”
I laugh. I can’t help it. It comes out shaky, but real, and for the first time since the alley, the room doesn’t feel like it’s shrinking around me. “God,” I say, shaking my head carefully. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
“Nope. That’s Bella’s cross to bear now.”
“She likes it.”
“She claims she tolerates it. I choose to hear worship.”
I laugh again, and this time it doesn’t hurt as much. The sound seems to loosen something in my chest. “Thank you,” I say after a second. “For coming to check on me.”
He shrugs like it isn’t a big deal. But it is. I know enough now to understand that. He stands, probably planning to leave before the moment gets too serious, and instinct moves me before logic does.
I stand too, too fast.
The room tilts.
Blaze reaches out, then stops himself halfway, hands lifted like he remembers exactly whose room he’s in. “You good?”
“Yeah.” I steady myself, then step forward. And hug him. It’s instinct. Gratitude. Nothing more.
His body goes rigid for half a second, probably from surprise, then he gives me the lightest pat on the back imaginable, like he’s afraid I might explode or Cobra might appear out of the walls. Which, to be fair, is apparently a reasonable fear.
Because the door opens. And his voice hits the room like a gunshot. “What the fuck?”
Everything freezes.
Blaze’s hand stops midair.
My arms drop instantly, and I turn toward the doorway.
Cobra stands there.All black clothes, blood still faint at his knuckles, jaw carved from stone, eyes locked on Blaze’s hand near my back. Not on me first. On him. The room goes cold.
“Fuck me,” Blaze mutters.
Cobra moves. Fast. Too fast.
Blaze barely has time to turn before Cobra’s fist slams into his face. The sound is awful. Heavy. Wet. Not playful. Not brotherly. Blaze staggers back, catching himself against the chair, one hand flying to his jaw.
“Cobra!” I gasp.
Cobra doesn’t look at me. He steps into Blaze’s space, body radiating something so territorial and furious it makes the air feel too thin. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself.”
Blaze spits a curse, straightening slowly. His lip is split. Blood shines at the corner of his mouth. “Was just a hug, asshole.”
“She is mine.” The words hit the room. Hit me.
Blaze’s eyes flick toward me for half a second, then back to Cobra. Whatever smart comment he might have made dies before it forms.
Good choice.
Still, he can’t help himself completely. “Noted,” he says, voice rough. “No hugging the homicidal man’s woman. Clear now.”
Cobra’s shoulders shift like he might hit him again.
I step forward.Not between them fully. Not stupidly. But enough. “Stop.”
