I turn around.
Blade is watching me from the living room, leaning against the arm of the couch.
When I end the call, he pushes off and crosses the room in three steps.
I don’t brace.
I don’t step back.
His hands come up slower this time. Careful. Like I might crack if he moves too fast.
He cups my face.
“You’re shaking,” he says quietly.
“I’m not.”
A lie.
His thumbs brush beneath my eyes, not wiping tears, just checking. Making sure.
“You did good,” he says.
The words hit harder than the gunshots did.
My breath stutters.
“I was scared,” I whisper.
His mouth curves faintly. “I was scared too.”
That undoes me.
He lowers his forehead to mine.
“I will burn this whole world down before I let anyone touch you again,” he says, voice low. Certain. Not a threat. A fact.
Something inside me gives.
I don’t answer.
I grab his shirt and pull him down.
His hand slides into my hair, gripping, anchoring me as his mouth takes mine like he’s been holding back all night. Like the second he let himself feel anything, it would’ve cracked him open.
I kiss him harder.
He makes a low sound against my mouth that goes straight through me.
His other hand drops to my waist, pulling me flush against him. No space. No hesitation.
His body is a wall of heat and muscle against mine, the leather of his cut rough under my palms as I clutch at him.
I can feel the steady thrum of his heart through his shirt, matching the wild beat of mine.
He breaks away first, breath hot on my skin. Those dark eyes bore into me, intense, like he's memorizing every inch.
“You don’t even know what you do to me.”
