“Blade, what is going on?” My voice comes out small. I hate that. I hate sounding scared. But the fear rushes up anyway.
“There’s shit going on in town we didn’t see coming,” he says quietly, fingertips brushing the back of my neck like he’s trying to soothe me without really softening. “Drug movement. Big players. Armed. Organized. We tracked some college punks straight to men who know exactly what they’re doing.”
I feel my throat tighten. “Like cartel level?”
“Like worse,” he mutters.
Awesome. Amazing. I love crime. Definitely my favorite pastime.
He notices the panic in my eyes and steps closer until his chest is pressed to mine. He crowds out the world and makes everything else fade into this little pocket of heat and protection that smells like leather and pine.
“You need to hear me on this,” he says, voice razor sharp. “We are about to stir a hornets nest. They’ll panic. They’ll look for weaknesses.”
“And you think I’m one of those,” I say, my mouth suddenly dry.
His hand slides to cup my cheek, thumb stroking slow and soft like he’s memorizing me. “I don’t have weaknesses… except you.”
That hits me like he reached straight into my chest and squeezed.
“They can’t hurt me,” he continues, eyes locked on mine. “The only way they could even try is by hurting you. That’s why you are staying with me. No debate.”
My heart jumps into my throat. “Staying with you,” I repeat, trying to make sure I’m fully tracking this. “Like overnight?”
Blade’s jaw flexes. “More than overnight.”
My brain short circuits a little. “How long?”
“As long as it takes. Until the dust settles and they realize this club and everyone connected to it are off limits.”
He leans his forehead against mine, breathing like he’s two seconds from spiraling into violence.
“When you get home, you pack a bag,” he orders. “Clothes. Toiletries. Anything you need for a while. I want you ready when I show up.”
“A while,” I whisper.
“Yeah.” His voice softens but gets rougher too. “You stick to me. I’m glued to you. Nobody touches what’s mine.”
His. Mine. Oh boy. My insides do cartwheels. Terrified but also really loving this feral possessive energy.
Blade must sense the meltdown happening in my chest because he lifts my chin and makes me look at him fully.
“You trust me?” he asks.
I do. I really do. Even when he terrifies me. Even when this whole situation feels like the opening scene of a murder documentary.
“I trust you,” I say, and I mean it.
His shoulders drop just a hair, relief smoothing over his fierce expression.
“Good girl.” The praise wraps around my spine like something sinful and sweet. “Finish up work. Go home. Pack. Lock everything. I’ll handle the rest.”
“Okay,” I breathe, nodding fast because if I think too long I might cry or puke or kiss him senseless.
His fingers slide up into my hair and he leans in like he wants to kiss me but stops at the last second. His lips brush my temple instead. Reverent. Gentle. “I’m not letting anything happen to you,” he whispers. “Not ever.”
He steps back, composure snapping tight again. Then he turns and starts barking orders at Rev and Switch, switching straight back into lethal biker mode. They move instantly, like soldiers following a general they’d die for.
I stand there, trying to remember how to breathe.
