Blaze (Virtues & Lies 3)

Me and the dark don’t get along—too many bad memories. Especially when I’m on my own in this big, empty house. Everywhere I turn, all I see is my mother’s ghost.

Chills erupt over my body as I head downstairs. Every little noise and shadow gives me pause. Living here is suffocating. Everywhere I look, I see her face when they laid her out on the lawn.

Pale. So pale that her complexion was a light shade of blue-tinged grey. Skin translucent enough that her veins were starkly visible. She was so beautiful in life, but all I seem to recall is the ghoul-like appearance when I tried to fish her out of the hot tub. She didn’t even like it, but when she was having an episode, she did irrational things…like overdose on her meds and alcohol. The funniest thing about it all is that she wasn’t a drinker, or a swimmer.

I startle at the knock on the door. Casper’s shadow blocks the streetlight from behind the frosted glass panes. I’ve come to memorise everything about his presence. His shadow and the odd softness of his footsteps. The way his scent fills the room and lingers in my lungs.

My heart starts to race like it always does when he’s around. Even at the mere thought of him it beats wildly as though he is all the adrenaline it will ever need.

He’s here. I take a deep breath to rein in the giddiness that fills me.

He’s meant to be at the charity auction Cassie organised, not at my front door. Disappointment twists with my glee because I’ve had to let my best friend down. But there’s just too much going on right now, and the prospect of going only served to make me anxious. After what happened to Casper’s sister, Arabella, I couldn’t put our child at risk.

He’s about to knock again when I open the door. “What do you want?”

I might like Casper more than I care to admit, but I also don’t want to be that sad eager girl who’s always on call for the hot guy. It’s not who I am, or at least it wasn’t until him.

“Listen to me carefully,” he grinds out, and all the giddiness begins to fade. The seriousness in his tone is enough to alert me that something is seriously wrong. Guiding me inside, he turns to close the door, searching the private road like the devil himself is about to jump out at us. “Something’s happened.” He turns back to me, hands on his hips and his brow furrowed. He looks mean and deadly. “I need you to get a bag together. We need to get the fuck out of here. You understand?”

I nod. “Okay.”

This is the only time I won’t argue with him because whatever’s gone down…it’s got to be bad enough to have fazed him. He’s always so laid-back.

Starting up the stairs as quickly as I can, I fight the dizziness that’s trying to overtake me. I try to ignore the fact that he’s shadowing me while I pile enough clothes for a few days on the bed. Casper’s barely giving me room to breathe, as though I’m about to drop dead or something.

Unable to deal with it, I head into the bathroom. The fucker actually follows me.

“Do you mind?” I glare at him, backing him out of the room as I grab the door to close it once he’s outside. “I’d like to pee alone.”

“Oh.”

I shut the door in his face and stand with my back pressed to it. My insides are vibrating wit

h worry, and I’m trying really hard not to freak out because I feel his concern coil inside me, not to mention how tense he is.

“So, what happened?” I yell once I’ve managed to settle myself somewhat. “Why are you going all GI Joe?”

Of course, he doesn’t answer. He’s a man of few words, and he probably thinks he’s doing me a favour. But I need to know. My thoughts are all clouded with memories of Arabella in the hospital and the way he looked that first time he ever allowed himself to touch me. And like the other times I’ve thought about that night…my heart hurts so much that it’s overwhelming. I can’t bear the thought that something as tragic as what happened to his niece could happen to our baby.

Now’s not the time to freeze. Keep going. Keep breathing. He’s here. I’m safe.

I leave the bathroom to find him organising all my shit into my bag. He likes to do that—organise things. He’s worse than Leo in some respects, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re in the military. Everything is regimented and has a purpose. And to serve its purpose, it needs to be at the ready. Casper is always at the ready. His subconscious has a plan B before he even has a plan A.

Standing in the middle of my room, I watch him for a moment. And I’m taken aback by how young he looks even in his tux. He’s just so handsome, and he has that rebel look with all his tattoos and the dark stubble that’s roughing his jaw. And I realise that I’m not only worried about the baby we made together. I’m worried about him too. Because unlike what I want him to believe, I do care and I do like him. I do those things more than I should.

He turns back to me when he’s done with packing my bag, and I glower at him, my hands on my hips.

“You didn’t answer my question. What happened?”

“You don’t need to worry about it, okay?”

“If you want me to go anywhere with you”—I take a step closer—“you’ll tell me.”

“I don’t remember giving you a choice.”

“You know, I liked you a lot better before this happened.” I can’t hold his obsidian stare, so I look down to my belly. It’s growing and rounding rather than looking bloated. When the baby decides to kick and punch around, I tell it, “He was a lot more fun; now he’s all grump and no play.”

I knew my remark would piss him off, but it’s how we operate.