Page 22 of Grave Love

A gun.

I could use a gun. I could shoot myself. I don’t even need Blaze to do that for me.

I could stealhisgun.

I lie in bed with my clothes on my chest, breathing in his scent. Metals and dirt, like a shovel digging through the mud.

Soon, I’m parked outside of a small house. The lawn is plain and trimmed, and the window blinds are drawn. It’s almost two a.m. A black cat roams in the next-door neighbor’s driveway, judging me for my late arrival.

His house is completely dark.

I know he’s awake. Waiting for me.

I knock on the door. My stomach knots, each bulb of pain churning inside of me. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t trust a stranger like Blaze with my lifeormy death.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am afraid. Maybe Iwantsomeone to help me. Someone who is more authentic than a doctor. Someone who admits exactly what they want from me. A person who can see me for who I truly am.

A person who can give me what I want.

I stare at my feet. Time ticks by, and nausea rolls through me. I should leave.

The door opens, and a gust of warm air rushes past me. Black boots enter my vision. I slowly look up.

Blaze smirks. His jagged jaw. The stubble on his skin brittle and hard. Plain black clothes covering his body, contrasting with his light blue eyes. And his posture—the wide stance, his chest thrust out—radiates superiority over everyone and everything.

Every detail about him demonstrates his power over me.

There are millions of reasons to say no. To tell Blaze to fuck off and leave me alone. To destroy his little note and never give him a second thought. To do this therightway and ask a doctor for help.

I don’t do any of that.

“Okay,” I whisper.

His smirk widens. I don’t have to explain myself; he knows exactly what I mean. He steps forward, then closes the door behind him, meeting me outside.

“Okay,” he says.

Chapter10

Blaze

“Well,”Ren says as she straightens, braveness growing in her chest, like she can finally stand up to me now that she’s agreed to what she truly wants. She gestures inside. “Are we doing this?”

I chuckle to myself, then lick my lips, paying attention to the way her eyes flicker to my mouth. Filled with irritation and still starved for what I can give her. Her black hair shines, thick with grease like she rarely washes it. The bags under her eyes are deep now, confessing the sleep she’s lost from this.

It brings me euphoria.

My dick grows hard.

“You think you get to decide when we start?” I ask plainly.

Her chin trembles, shocked that I’d decline her advances now. I can see her shove it down, forcing the emotions out of her body.

“You were the one who was waiting for me to agree to this whole fucked up plan,” she says.

I shove her against the wall, her body slamming into the exterior of the house, confusion crashing into her like a giant wave. Her pupils dilate, so full of fear and panic. That vulnerability is tangible as I corner her. Trapping her like prey. I press myself up against her soft frame, forcing her to endure every hard, hungry inch of me.

She might be hungry, but I am far greedier. And Iwillget what I want from her.