Chapter 70: THEIRS

Chapter 70: THEIRS Clare POV I could feel the vibration of his low, dark chuckle through his chest, through the couch, through me. Every nerve in my body was on high alert, screaming at me to move, to run, to fight — but I stayed frozen, tucked against him like a goddamn sacrificial lamb. His fingers threaded lazily through my hair again, deceptively gentle, like I wasn’t one wrong breath away from being slaughtered. This is it, I thought, heart thundering against my ribs. This is how it ends. Not with a bang. Not even with a proper fight. Just... quietly. Stupidly. Lying on a vampire’s lap with a half-dead heating pad. Pathetic. I shifted just a little, instinctively trying to put some space between us, but his hand tightened in my hair — not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me who had the power here. "Where do you think you’re going, little pet?" he murmured, voice like black silk wrapping around my throat. "You’re right where you belong." I swallowed hard, the tiny defiance I had left wilting under the weight of him. There was something... broken in his voice. Twisted. Like he was fighting some internal battle I couldn’t even begin to understand — and losing. I should’ve been smart. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. But nooo, Clare’s Stupid MouthTM strikes again. "You don’t have to keep calling me ’pet,’ you know," I muttered, voice hoarse. "I’m not a stray cat you picked up off the street." His fingers stilled in my hair. The silence stretched long and sharp between us, like the moment before a match ignites. Then he laughed — a cold, humorless sound that made the hair on my arms stand up. "No," he said slowly, almost thoughtfully. "You’re not a stray cat. A cat knows it’s a predator. You..." His eyes, burning red, met mine. "You still think you’re safe." I looked away, heart pounding. Stupid, Clare, so stupid. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. I focused on the ticking of the broken clock on the wall. On the slight creak of the couch as he shifted beneath me. On the warm, faint throb of the heating pad against my stomach. If I pretended hard enough, maybe I could pretend this was normal. That I wasn’t lying on a supernatural killer’s lap while he debated internally whether to pet me or snap my neck. Right. Normal. Except normal was a distant, half-forgotten dream by now. I don’t know how much time passed. Minutes, maybe. Hours. Time had a funny way of stretching and snapping when Blaze was involved. At some point, the tension in the air shifted. He wasn’t holding me as tightly anymore. His strokes through my hair became slower. Less predatory. Almost... sorrowful? It made my chest ache in a weird, confusing way I didn’t like. "You don’t get it, do you, little minx?" he whispered, almost like he was talking to himself. "You’re already killing me." I tensed. "What do you mean?" I croaked, immediately regretting asking. His eyes flicked down to me. The red in them burned hotter, but it wasn’t the wildfire rage I expected. It was something heavier. Something that scared me more than anger ever could. "You," he said, voice guttural, "are the rope tying a noose around my throat." Okaaaay. Definitely time to change the subject before he went full serial killer poet on me. I opened my mouth — no plan, no idea what would come out — but I was saved (??) by the sound of a door slamming open somewhere upstairs. Both our heads snapped toward the sound. Footsteps. Heavy. Purposeful. Reed. Because of course it was Reed. Because my life wasn’t complicated enough already, right? Blaze’s hand slipped from my hair and he stood in a flash, moving so fast I barely registered it. I sat up stiffly on the couch, clutching the heating pad like it was a goddamn shield, trying to pretend my heart wasn’t trying to climb out of my throat. Reed stomped down the stairs, his expression dark, his golden eyes flashing dangerously. For a split second, Reed and Blaze locked eyes across the room — and the air went lethal. Predator to predator. Alpha to alpha. Both ready to tear the other apart for reasons I was too human to fully understand. "You’re still here," Reed said, voice low and full of barely leashed fury. Blaze didn’t flinch. He just smiled. A slow, lazy, infuriating smile that promised nothing good. "Someone has to make sure the pet doesn’t hurt herself," Blaze purred. Reed’s hands clenched at his sides. His fangs peeked from behind his lips, a low growl rumbling from his chest. I shrank back instinctively, wishing the couch would just swallow me whole. "I can take care of her," Reed snapped. Blaze tilted his head, red eyes gleaming with amusement. "Really?" he drawled. "Because the last time I checked, you were the one who left her bleeding and alone." Oh. Ouch. Okay, even I had to admit that was a low blow. Reed snarled, stepping forward, muscles bunching like he was seconds from launching himself across the room. Blaze just stood there, calm and utterly fearless, the kind of calm that only came from centuries of being the biggest, baddest thing in the room. "I said," Reed growled, voice deep and dangerous, "leave." Blaze’s smile widened. "And I said no." The world narrowed down to the two of them. A powder keg waiting for a single spark. I didn’t know who would win if they fought. And frankly, I didn’t want to find out. I pushed myself shakily to my feet. "Guys," I croaked. "Maybe don’t destroy my house? I really can’t afford to fix this dump again." Neither of them looked at me. Typical. Boys and their stupid pissing contests. I took a step forward — and immediately stumbled, my vision swimming. Pain lanced through my abdomen like a hot knife. Shit. The heating pad clattered to the floor. Both Blaze and Reed moved at the same time. Blaze caught me first. His hands, cold and unyielding, gripped my shoulders and steadied me. Reed was there a second later, his body practically vibrating with restrained violence. The two locked eyes over my head. Mine, Reed’s eyes said. No, Blaze’s said back, just as clearly. And me? Yeah, I was just caught in the middle like some kind of cursed tug-of-war prize. "I’m hungry," I blurted out, breaking the thick, deadly silence that had wrapped around the room like smoke. Both of them froze. For a heartbeat, neither moved. Neither blinked. They just... stared at me like I’d suddenly sprouted antlers. Which, frankly, wouldn’t have been the weirdest thing to happen tonight. I shuffled awkwardly, clutching my stomach. Yeah, I was hungry. Starving, actually. The painkillers Reed brought me were probably designed to knock out an elephant, and taking them on an empty stomach? Genius move, Clare. Absolute genius . No wonder I felt like I was about to faint and/or throw up everywhere. But instead of, y’know, losing the tension and getting me, oh, I don’t know, some goddamn food, it somehow made everything worse. "You haven’t fucking fed her?" Reed rounded on Blaze, voice sharp enough to slice skin. I blinked. Wait, fed? What the hell was this wording? Did they think I was some kind of... glorified houseplant that needed regular Seriously? These guys were really treating me like some pet they jointly owned and had to take care of. Blaze just raised an eyebrow at Reed’s outburst, all casual menace. "I don’t see you carrying a takeaway bag and food either," he fired back, voice smooth like venom. Reed’s eyes flashed yellow. "At least I bought her a heating pad and painkillers," he bit out, chest heaving like he was seconds from shifting right there. Blaze scoffed, his lips curling in that signature I’m-better-than-everyone smirk. "Well, I cleaned her fucking room," he shot back, loud enough to make the walls vibrate. For a second, everything went dead silent. Even I stared at him like he had just grown a second head. Wait. Blaze? The literal Dracula-wannabe? Mr. I-drink-blood-and-brood-in-dark-corners? Cleaned my fucking room? My brain short-circuited trying to picture it. My brain short-circuited trying to picture it. Blaze — king of death glares and horror movie entrances — on his knees picking up shards of broken mirror and splinters of wood like some reluctant housemaid? Yeah, right. Next thing you know, he’d be wearing an apron and humming lullabies. "You’re lying," I blurted out before I could stop myself. Blaze’s red eyes slid to me slowly, that lazy, terrifying gaze pinning me like a bug on display. "You think I’d make that shit up, little pet?" he drawled darkly, voice all silk and danger. Reed made a noise like he was choking on his own spit — honestly, same. "Wait," Reed said, eyes narrowing at Blaze suspiciously. "You cleaned it? Not your minions? Not some poor sucker you glamoured?" Blaze leaned back against the couch, still absently combing his fingers through my hair like it was the most natural thing in the world to pet a human you might also be planning to kill. "Nope. Me. Every fucking piece of glass. Every splinter of wood. Every... annoying human hazard." His fingers tightened just slightly in my hair, enough to make me squeak before he loosened them again, almost like a silent warning: Don’t push it. Reed just stared at him, expression somewhere between horrified and impressed. "Damn. You really are whipped," he muttered under his breath. I opened my mouth to say something —