Chapter 124: For Mate

Chapter 124: For Mate CLARE POV: I was kissing Reed. I was kissing Reed!! And worse—I had kissed him back. What the actual hell was happening to me? The realization hit me like a slap. My lips were still tingling, my heart thudding erratically against my ribs, and gods—I had kissed him back. I let it happen. No, worse. I leaned into it. For those few seconds, I let the world disappear and I let him in. What the actual hell was I doing? I pulled away, breath catching in my throat, my heart thundering like I’d just run a marathon. The space between us suddenly felt too small, too hot, like I needed air, now. I stumbled back a little, eyes wide, avoiding his gaze as the heat of embarrassment spread up my neck. I kissed him. I let myself kiss him back. Gods... what was I doing? Was this grief messing with my head? Or had I finally gone insane from all the supernatural chaos and emotional whiplash of the last few days? Maybe grief does mess with you. Maybe it digs in deep, crawls under your skin and rewires things—makes you crave comfort so badly that you reach for anything that feels like safety, like warmth. But... that kiss—it hadn’t felt like nothing. That was the problem. It had felt real. It had felt safe. It had felt like something I wasn’t ready for, but part of me maybe, just maybe, wanted. Fuck. My head was a mess. My heart? Worse. I looked at him—really looked—and I could see the surprise in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell just as fast as mine. He was stunned, sure, but not apologetic. And that scared me more than anything. "I... I shouldn’t have," I whispered, more to myself than him. My cheeks were burning, shame creeping in like wildfire. What kind of person kisses someone while grieving their twin? Grief must be turning me into someone I didn’t recognize. I wasn’t supposed to feel like this—not now, not with everything hanging over me like a guillotine. But somehow, in that moment, I wasn’t thinking about Clark or the horrors of this place or the secrets waiting to explode—I was thinking about Reed. The way he looked at me. The way he made me feel safe when everything else felt like it was closing in. And now Reed was just standing there, watching me like I was the only thing in the room that mattered. I didn’t know what to say. So, I did the only thing I could do. I looked away and muttered, "I need... I just need a second." Then I turned and walked out—because if I stayed another second, I wasn’t sure what would happen next. My skin was burning, my heart was doing somersaults, and my brain had apparently decided to take a vacation. I was already unraveling, caught between the ache of my grief and the confusing warmth still lingering on my lips. My body had betrayed me, reacting with want when all I was supposed to feel was loss. God, I didn’t need a second—I needed hours. I needed days. I needed to remember who I was before I stepped into this horror-infested, mate-claiming, secret-riddled nightmare. I needed time to breathe. To think. To feel without the fear of what came next creeping in behind it. And most of all...I needed to figure out why that kiss—his touch—had felt like something I wasn’t ready to lose. And now, somehow, this—Reed, his warmth, his promises, his kiss—was just one more storm I didn’t know how to weather. Blaze POV: I walked in and saw Reed smiling. What the fuck was the mutt smiling about? Something was off. His grin was too smug, too satisfied. And then—it hit me. Her scent. All over him. Her warmth, her essence—our beloved’s scent—clung to him like a damn claim. I saw red. Before he even turned around, my hand was at his throat, slamming him against the wall. My fangs itched for blood. My demons howled. Rage consumed me like fire in dry leaves. My claws grazed skin, just shy of ripping it open. "What the fuck did you do to her?" I growled, voice low and laced with venom. My grip tightened. My mind screamed. The idea of another male—a wolf—touching her, holding her, while her scent soaked into his skin... It was enough to drive me feral. My demon was close to the surface, wanting blood. But Reed wasn’t a pup. He reacted fast—clawed at my arm, sharp nails slicing into my flesh. The pain made me release him, blood trickling, fury surging. I hissed and loosened my hold on his neck, enough for him to shove me back. He coughed and then growled out, "She asked me if I knew Clark." That stopped me cold. For a split second, my rage was replaced by something else—dread. Of course she asked. And Reed... damn him, he was alone with her. She was vulnerable. And I wasn’t there. "And what have you told her?" I asked, my voice low, tight, barely holding back the storm boiling beneath the surface. He shrugged like it was nothing. "I evaded the question." Simple. Casual. Like it wasn’t a loaded fucking landmine she’d stepped on. That damn mutt. Always playing with fire. I clenched my jaw. That pain—her pain—it twisted something inside me, something that I didn’t even know had room left to hurt. But I couldn’t focus on it, not fully. Not when her scent was still clinging to him. My eyes darted toward the kitchen, scanning instinctively for her. I couldn’t see her, but I could feel her—smell her. Her scent was everywhere. Especially on him. "She’s in the bedroom," Reed said, his voice lower now. "Composing herself. She broke down talking about her twin’s death." That pulled at something in my chest, but I still couldn’t focus—not fully—not with her scent clinging to him like a fucking challenge. "You need to go and wash off her scent, Reed," I ground out, stepping back to keep myself in check. My fangs itched. My body coiled like a predator’s before the strike. "Before I go feral and we start fighting again—and end up scaring her off for good." He muttered something under his breath, clearly not pleased. I didn’t care. He knew I was right. Knew how close we both were to snapping. I could see it in his eyes—those shifting golden flickers. His wolf was fighting him, just like my demons were clawing at my insides, demanding blood, demanding dominance. Both of us struggling. Both of us barely holding it together. All because of her. Because she wasn’t just a girl. She was our mate. One wrong move, and it wouldn’t be just words between us. It’d be claws, teeth, blood—and Clare caught in the middle. And none of us could afford that. REED POV: Stupid fucking leech came in and disrupted my joy—choked the life out of me like I was one of his damn bloodsucker lackeys. I was still in my head, replaying the kiss, the way her lips felt against mine, the shock in her eyes after... hell, the way she didn’t pull away at first—when suddenly, bam, his hands were around my neck like he had some divine right to lay claim on her. One second I’m lost in the memory of her, and the next, I’m being manhandled by a psychotic vampire with jealousy issues. He didn’t even ask—just sniffed the air, caught her scent on me, and saw red. Typical vampire shit. No control. No patience. Just primal instincts and bloodlust. Guess that’s what happens when a mutt like me gets too close to the girl he calls ’beloved.’ I had no choice—I shifted just enough, let the claws slide out, and raked them across his arms to make him loosen his grip. Not because I was afraid of him. Hell no. But because I knew if we started, really started, there wouldn’t be a Clare left to come back to. And what for? Because I kissed the girl we’re both losing our minds over? He asked what I told her. Like I’d betray her like that. Like he has room to be suspicious. I evaded her question about Clark because I couldn’t stomach the lie, not after what just happened between us. I was still trying to catch my breath—not from Blaze’s chokehold, but from the moment I shared with Clare. But that bastard didn’t care about any of it. All he saw was my closeness to her. Her scent on me. And that was enough to send his demons into a frenzy. Now he wants me to wash off the scent of my mate like I did something wrong. The fucking nerve. Like hell I’m going to forget how she looked at me. How she trusted me. My wolf? He was having none of it. He was pacing inside me, snarling, growling, ready to tear something apart. Our mate’s scent was like a balm, a grounding force. It soothed him, calmed his usually wild nature. And now the bloodsucker wants it gone? Hell no. Still, I saw the warning in his eyes—the way his control was hanging by a thread. And mine? Mine wasn’t much better. My wolf was pacing under my skin, snarling, itching to remind that leech he doesn’t own her. He was pacing under my skin, growling low in warning. He didn’t like that idea at all—not one damn bit. The scent of our mate on us wasn’t something to be ashamed of. It was something to wear like armor, a reminder that she trusted us, leaned on us, let us hold her when she was at her most fragile. And now this ice-cold leech with his possessive rage thinks he can just bark orders? Screw that. He doesn’t get to dictate how I interact with our mate. I could feel my wolf clawing at the edge of my skin, whispering how we should stand our ground, how we were the first one she trusted, the first one she kissed. How we were the ones holding her when she broke down. Not Blaze. Us. And now he thinks he can just come in, throw a tantrum, and erase that? I clenched my fists, jaw tight, trying to keep from shifting right there in the damn kitchen. The only thing stopping me from launching at him again was her—Clare. The last thing she needed was another supernatural fight blowing up in her space. She was fragile right now. Hurting. I could feel my eyes flickering gold again, my wolf pushing against the surface, wanting to show Blaze exactly how we felt about his little demand. But I held it back. Barely. Not for Blaze’s sake—but for Clare’s. She didn’t need another scene. Not today. Not after breaking down in my arms, crying over her brother. I wasn’t about to turn her house into a warzone just because a jealous vampire couldn’t control his bloodlust. So I bit my tongue. Literally. Took a deep breath and walked away. So yeah, I’ll wash my face. I’ll change my shirt. But not because Blaze told me to. Because she matters more than some petty dominance pissing contest. But make no mistake—this isn’t over. I may have backed down for now, but I’m not letting some overdramatic vampire scare me away from what’s mine. My mate.