Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
The basement gym at Steel Protection was a long concrete room with a heavy bag at one end, a speed bag at the other, a rack of free weights along one wall, and a mat in the middle where the pack sparred.
Blaze had been past the point of training for forty minutes. The wraps on his hands were dark with sweat. His shoulders were burning. His ribs were burning. His knuckles were going to be a mess. He didn’t care. He hit the bag. He stepped. He hit it again.
His wolf had been howling nonstop since the moment Stella had told him to leave the diner.
The mate bond was beating inside him like a second heartbeat.
He felt her pulling at him like he was a dog at the end of a chain.
His mate. Stella had told him to leave, but everything in him told him to go to her.
The pressure between those two things was eating him alive.
He thought about the way she’d looked at him like he was a problem and how every step away from her had felt like walking through quicksand. He hit the bag. His wolf howled. The door at the top of the stairs opened, and footsteps sounded on the stairs behind him.
“You’ve been down here a while,” Dom said as he entered the gym.
Blaze hit the bag.
“Yeah.”
“We need to talk.”
“Talk.”
“Stop hitting the bag.”
“I’m not done.”
“Yes, you are.”
Blaze hit the bag.
“Blaze. You’ve been a problem all week and we’re going to fix that now.” Dom sounded like he was about to lose his patience.
Blaze caught the bag and held it. He stood there for a second with his right fist still cocked, his lungs working hard, and his wolf clawing at the inside of his eyes.
He let go of the bag and turned. Dom was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching him.
Blaze pulled his wraps off with his teeth.
“Talk,” Blaze growled.
“Two days ago, you almost took the head off a bartender at the Fate Mountain Brewery for laughing too loud.”
“I didn’t touch him.”
“You stepped to him. He took two steps back. Max Bock called me before you got back to the truck. That’s the second time I’ve gotten a call like that from Max, Blaze.”
“I didn’t touch him,” he repeated.
“Yesterday Ryder made a joke about your haircut. You snapped at him hard enough that he came to me to ask if he should be staying out of your way for a while.”
Blaze leaned his hands on his knees and breathed.
“Your job is the protection of our clients and the discipline of yourself. You do not get to walk around looking for somewhere to put your fists.”
“I know.”
“I know you know. So, tell me what’s going on.”
Blaze stood with his hands at his sides, breathing hard, his wolf howling inside his mind.
“I found my fated mate on last week.” Blaze took a breath. “She’s Stella Keenan. From the Fate Mountain Diner.”
“Tell me everything.”
He told him about going to the diner and what she’d said. He told him about how the bond pulled at him every minute of every day since. How he couldn’t sleep or eat. He was going insane.
Dom rubbed a hand down his face. “Listen,” he said. “You can’t fight your way into a mate bond.”
“I know.”
“You can’t intimidate her. You can’t push her.
You can’t show up at her diner again. You’re not going to win this the same way you win fights.
If you try, you’ll lose her and endanger the reputation of the entire pack.
You don’t message her. You don’t go to the diner.
You don’t do a goddamn thing. You let her come to her own conclusion, and you trust that her bear is going to argue your case for you better than you can. ”
“Got it.”
“And you get yourself under control. Because I’m not putting an enforcer in the field who’s looking for a fight. That’s dangerous to the people we work for and to the pack.”
“Yeah.”
Dom watched him for another moment.
“You should have told me as soon as it happened.”
“I know.”
“Get your shit together. Tomorrow you’re back on client check ins and you’re going to be the version of yourself I trust.”