Blaze (Virtues & Lies Book 3) Read online

  Blaze

  Virtues & Lies Book 3

  Alexandra Silva

  Contents

  Prologue I

  Prologue II

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About Alexandra

  Also by Alexandra Silva

  ©2029 Alexandra Silva

  Blaze: Virtues and Lies Book 3

  Cover design and formatting by LJDesigns

  Cover image by Regina Wamba

  Cover model is Alex

  Editing by One Love Editing

  Proofreading by All Encompassing Books

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or transmitted in any form without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Prologue I

  FLEUR

  Six months earlier

  I need oxygen. Air. Anything to wake me up from this nightmare. I’m not ready for this. I haven’t given babies a first thought let alone a second. I’m twenty-two. Twenty-fucking-two. I know nothing about being a mother. Nothing.

  “No. No, no, no…” I shake the stick in my hand, hoping that the words change from Pregnant to Not Pregnant.

  They don’t, and all the horrible nausea that prompted me to even consider this turn of events returns with a vengeance.

  I look at all the other tests I’ve dumped in the bathroom sink and try not to spew my guts again.

  “It’s got to be wrong.” Growling, I sift through all the other pee sticks. There has to be one that contradicts this because I swear we were careful.

  This doesn’t make sense. We used protection. Casper is always careful.

  “Shit!” I throw the last test into the pile in the sink.

  With my heart hammering in my throat, I slip onto the toilet seat. I don’t bother checking my phone when it rings. All my energy is gone, and talking isn’t something I can fathom this moment. No, wallowing over this fucking disaster is safer when I can’t even tell my best friend. Cassie will tell Leo, her boyfriend, and… “Fuck!”

  Casper’s going to hate me. His niece has just died, and here I am knocked up with his kid. “Shit.”

  My phone rings again, and in spite of my want to ignore it, I answer the call. “Yeah?”

  “Where are you?” he asks, sounding serious and broody like always.

  “Home.”

  “I thought you were coming over?” There’s an edge of nonchalance in his voice, and it pisses me off.

  “I’m sick.” It’s not a complete lie—I am sick. I’m sick with his child.

  “Fine,” he mutters before we fall awkwardly silent.

  Who knew Casper Gladstone could do awkward silence?

  He’s quiet in general. It’s what I like about him. I have enough shit going on in my head on a good day, and he’s not a talker. We can co-exist without all our baggage cluttering around us. Somehow, we’ve become each other’s escape. Until now. If I tell him, he’ll push me away and I’ll become another burden he carries. I could take care of the situation myself, but I’ll never be able to look him in the eyes again.

  We may not be serious. Fuck buddies never are, and the reality is that we’re not even buddies. I have no idea what we are. Only that we exist in the same world.

  “Well.” His breath blows down the phone.

  It’s like I can feel the ruffle of it ghost into my ear like when we’re fucking. And God, the effect it has on me is shameful. Need overwhelms me from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. Every pore is yearning for him. His touch. His scent. It’s as though every molecule of my anatomy knows that this is it, and that thought alone is enough to set my stupid, oversensitive emotions off.

  What is wrong with me?

  “Feel better,” he finishes.

  “Ah…what?” I’m so lost in my thoughts that I forget why we’re on the phone.

  “You’re sick…”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  The chuckle down the phone is so low and so fucking rumbly that I have to hold my breath so I don’t squeak.

  It’s so pathetic considering I was ready to curse him and his super spunk only a few minutes ago, and now, I’m here silently panting over his breaths and his voice.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just a bug.” Your fucking bug, taking up residence in my fucking womb.

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”

  He’ll see me around. He’ll see me around?

  He was balls-deep inside my pussy last night, and that’s what he says?

  I’ll see you around.

  What. The. Fuck?

  “Sure,” I snap sourly. It’s stupid, but so is his remark. “Bye.”

  Without a second thought, I hang up, regretting it instantly. Because that could’ve been the last conversation we had where he still wants me. There’s no way Casper is going to want me when I tell him I’m knocked up.

  Collecting all the tests in my sink, I drop them into the plastic bag with the pharmacy logo. It’s so thin that it doesn’t conceal anything. So fucking pointless. Maybe he got the condoms from the same place and that’s why I’m now pregnant.

  I’m pregnant.

  Fan-fucking-tastic.

  We were never in a relationship and at no point ever talked about it being a relationship. It was just sex. Great fucking—the kind that makes you forget about all others you’ve had.

  I leave the bathroom door ajar so that the crack of light cuts through the stark darkness of my room. And while I face-plant the bed, I pull as much of Casper’s scent into my lungs as possible.

  He was here this time last night, and my worry was a mere niggle because like last night, we’ve never been reckless enough for this outcome.

  My mouth waters with his soft, clean scent mixed with his sharp aftershave. Even his sweat smells good on my sheets.

  I’m almost lulled to sleep when the tapping on my window starts. Normally, I would freak out, but I’ve come to learn that Casper is stealthy as hell, and his climbing skills are almost too good. He’s a real-life GI Joe.

  Unable to cope with the continuous rapping, I g
et up and open the window to my Juliette balcony.

  I’m about to tell him to go away, when I find his eyes. They’re so dark, they could be black. Casper is all dark allure and beautiful tattoos. The sight of him is enough to make me drool.

  “How sick are you?” he smirks at me, not breaking eye contact even as he climbs over the iron railing.

  “Sick enough that you should leave.” He’s so tall that I’m talking to his chest rather than his face.

  “Probably.” Unzipping his jacket, he reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a bag of orange Starbursts. He doesn’t sing-song about the gesture. It’s almost as though he’s gone out and bought the bag like that rather than having to take apart rolls of the chews to pick my favourites out.

  Offering it to me, he studies my face. “You don’t look so sick.”

  “Thanks.” I give him my best bitchy smile, not taking the sweets from him. “How nice of you to say.”

  “What’s going on, Trouble?”

  “Nothing, big man.”

  Casper walks to my bed, where he sits looking at me. I hate it when he does that. I hate that he can see through me. There’s no need for him to tell me he knows I’m lying because I already know. It’s obvious in the sullen way he’s sitting there, scrutinising me. Looking as though he belongs here, in my space…with me.

  “You realise that we’ve seen each other every night for the past week, right? And it’s not like we do much talking.”

  Shrugging with a cocky grin, he unwraps one of the chews and holds it out to me. The smell of the sugar and the citrus flavour makes my mouth water, but I refuse to take more from him. It has to stop, and for that to happen he has to go.

  “I’m tired.”

  “But not sick.”

  Jesus, I’m surprised that his X-ray vision hasn’t shown him the bundle of anxiety in my belly. Looking at him, I fall through a rabbit hole of wonderings of whether our child will be as tall as him or as milky as me. I don’t hate the thoughts or the images they conjure, and it throws me through a loop.

  “Have you had another fight with your dad?” he asks, leaning forward to grab me by the top of my shorts.

  The feel of his hands touching my skin is enough to make me weak at the knees. When I’m standing in front of him, he pushes the sweet into my mouth, and with my heart thumping at our proximity, I try to savour it. It’s hard to, though, because his intricately tattooed hands are the only thing I’m capable of luxuriating in as they flatten to the base of my stomach and inch around to the curve of my arse.

  The tip of his tongue runs over his bottom lip as my tight vest rides up my body, exposing my pierced navel. And before I’ve had a chance to swallow down what’s left of the sweet, he laves around my belly button, inching closer to my piercing until I’m holding on to his hair. It’s the only thing stopping me from collapsing into a puddle between his feet.

  “Casper…” I try to push away from him as the magnitude of the situation sets in.

  This is what got us here in the first place. This could be the last time he touches me like this, or at all. And I know that letting this happen without telling him about the situation is a betrayal of the trust he’s given me.

  “Yeah?” His eyes flash up to mine, his bottom lip tracing up my sternum, the scratch of his stubble drying out all my words.

  If this is it, I can let myself have this. This one last moment with him.

  When I don’t reply, his hands push my shorts down over my arse, until they’re puddled at my feet. My breaths jam together as his rough fingers rake up my legs, round the backs of my thighs and between my legs. They push through my wet pussy until he’s nudging my clit and I’m incapable of holding myself upright.

  Tears prick my eyes as I lose myself to the feel of his touches. He hoists me to straddle his thighs, and his mouth latches onto my nipple over my vest. With my groan, the tears I’ve been holding on to track down my face.

  I push his jacket off, desperately trying to get all I can of him. The heat of our bodies melding together. The calloused skin of his hands scratching over mine.

  I lift off his lap, pulling my nipple free with a delicious sting that travels all the way down to my pulsing pussy. Casper pulls his dark joggers down, freeing his hard cock at the same time I unzip his hoodie, the white T-shirt a direct contrast with the dark tattoo on his neck.

  Fuck, I want to lick it so bad. My mouth is watering for the tang of his salty skin and the sour notes of his aftershave on my tongue.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, cupping either side of my face, holding my mouth hostage over his.

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re crying.” His eyes narrow on mine, assessing me and my reply.

  Casper is so fucking beautiful, striking with the sharp angles of his face and the churlish set of his features. When he looks at me like this—unwavering and deep—it almost makes me believe he cares more than he lets on.

  A scoff pushes from my lips with the watery roll of my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Casper nods, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth. There’s a fleeting moment where I contemplate telling him that I’m pregnant with his child. One small moment where his eyes are boring into mine and my soul doesn’t feel so alone. It’s easy to believe that everything could be all right.

  A lie that I’ve been telling myself since that first time he kissed me. The first time he fucked me in an empty hospital room. That lie evaporates, and all the feelings come crashing down on me.

  Silly feelings that only make it harder to keep the truth from him, and from myself. This isn’t love. Not for him. I’m a heap of warm flesh that he can use and get lost in. As and when he needs. A temporary fix.

  Pulling a condom from his rumpled joggers, he holds it out to me. “Put it on.”

  An almost laugh escapes me, sounding surly.

  What use is it? What use was it in the first place?

  “You want me to do it?” Leaning back onto his elbows, his eyes peruse down my body to where my hand hovers over his proud, girthy erection.

  The hiss as I roll the condom over his dick makes my stomach knot. That sound—something between desperate and uncontrolled—gets me every time. A call to my baser needs that surpasses my logic. A warning to my being of what’s about to come.

  Casper drags me up his body, and the length of his dick rubs down my clit until the tip lodges at my entrance. Before I can drag a burning breath into my lungs, he impales me. One swift, hard thrust pushes all the wind out of me in a muted scream.

  His cock bottoms out, sending frissons of pain and pleasure through me, so deep I’m not really sure where he ends and I begin.

  “Fuck, your cunt’s tight,” he bites out, his hands clawing my hips as he holds me down over him, his throbbing dick stretching me. It’s always like this. Every time we fuck it feels like he’s splitting me in half, and the only things holding me together are his big, strong hands.

  Finally loosening his hold, he works me over him until I’m covered in goosebumps, and the brush of the air on my skin makes me ache. My body chases his as he thrusts into me mercilessly, my hands uselessly trying to find purchase on his ink-covered skin.

  He eases his efforts, and my body chills with the need for him to keep going. To keep taking. To keep fucking me until everything falls away and there’s nothing of importance.

  “Don’t stop,” I moan, bringing his hands up to my breasts.

  The Vs of his hands bracket my small assets, and as I sink as deep as I can over him, his thumbs strum my hard nipples. And fuck, I’m there. I’m so there. Everything inside me is thrumming. Our surroundings blur around the edges.

  When I’m unable to keep up, he takes over, fucking himself with my body to my cries and his guttural grunts.

  My eyes close. Everything spins, violently sweeping me into unstoppable heaves. The sweet orange taste comes back to haunt me, and I have to throw myself off him, holding my sick in my mouth while I d
ash into the bathroom.

  Barely managing to make it to the toilet, I slam the bathroom door shut behind me, collapsing on the floor in front of it. It doesn’t matter how many times I wretch into it, bile keeps coming, and as I lay my head on the seat, a warm hand brushes my jaw-length hair from my face.

  My eyes meet Casper’s. While he stares at me with the most concern he’s ever held in them, I burrow my cheek into his palm. One of my hands slips to my stomach as his thumb swipes over the curve of my lip. Crouching in front of me, he holds my gaze as though he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. As if he honestly cares. Silently he strokes over my lip, down to the dip of my chin and back before he walks to the sink and wets the hand towel.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur. For the situation and for not telling him.

  He’s got his joggers on, but his top half is bare. The muscles move beneath the taught skin, making his tattoos come to life. Beautiful and dark. A mishmash of scrolls, swirls, and intricate geometric patterns that knit together around the stained-glass-like crucifix etched along his spine. He’s a sight to behold even with my head on the loo.

  “You can always say no.” He finds me through the reflection in the mirror while he wrings the towel. His eyes lower back to the sink, and I’m sure both of our gazes pause on the pharmacy bag next to him at the same time.