Chapter 4
Blade
The words hang between us.
Her breathing is uneven.
Mine isn’t much better.
Neither of us moves.
My phone vibrates on the counter.
Ghost.
I let it buzz a second longer than I should. My gut already knows it’s bad news. I look at her first.
She’s watching me.
Then I pick it up.
One message.
The man you dropped is Salazar Huntington. His family runs three clubs across Blissmont County. VIP rooms move product. Clean on paper.
He won’t let tonight slide.
You stirred a hornet’s nest.
Keep her close.
My jaw locks.
Clubs like that don’t stay polished without rot underneath.
Salazar isn’t just some drunk with money. He’s connected. Protected. Angry.
I type back once.
Copy.
I set the phone down.
She still hasn’t looked away.
“What is it?” she asks.
I don’t sugarcoat it.
“That club isn’t just a club,” I say. “The man who put his hands on you? Salazar Huntington. His family owns it. And two more across the county.”
Her grip tightens on the mug.
“And?”
“They move product. Quiet operation. Clean front.”
Her throat works when she swallows. “And now?”
“Now he’s embarrassed.”
Silence settles.
“And embarrassed men do stupid things,” she says, barely above a whisper.
“Yes.”
Color drains from her face.
“So I’m not safe.”
“You are,” I say immediately.
She looks up.
“Here. With me,” I add.
That lands between us.
“But not… anywhere else?”
“Not tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll see.”
Her fingers curl around the mug like it might crack.
“I should go home.”
“No.”
It comes out harder than I mean it to.
Her eyes widen.
I rein it in.
“Not tonight,” I say, voice steadier. “He didn’t get what he wanted.”
Her breath thins. “And what was that?”
“You.”
The air goes heavy.
“And I took you from him,” I continue. “In front of his people. In his club.”
She swallows, slow.
“Men like that don’t separate pride from possession,” I say. “I embarrassed him. I put him on the floor. Over you.”
The words sit between us like a loaded weapon.
“So I’m…” she starts.
“You’re the reason he’s angry,” I say. “That’s enough.”
Fear flashes across her face, quiet and real. Something in me tightens.
She sets the mug on the counter with careful hands and steps toward me without thinking.
One step.
Then another.
Until she’s right in front of me.
Her hands fist in my shirt and she presses into my chest like she’s trying to climb into safety.
My body answers before my head catches up.
My arms close around her.
Slow. Firm. Protective.
She fits too easily.
Her cheek rests against my chest. Her breath warms the fabric.
I go still. Want hits too hard, too fast.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur.
“No, I’m not,” she whispers, stubborn. Then quieter, “Maybe you are.”
A sound leaves my throat, almost a laugh, almost a grunt.
My hand slides up her back, steadying her.
She tips her face up.
Close.
Too close.
Her eyes are wide, searching.
“Blade,” she says, like the word means something now.
My hand moves before I decide to allow it.
Two fingers under her chin.
I lift her face.
“Careful,” I say.
“With what?” she breathes.
“With me.”
Her pulse jumps under my thumb. A flush creeps up her throat.
“Don’t blush,” I murmur. “I haven’t even started.”
Her breath stutters.
“You carried me like I belonged to you.”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
That’s the truth.
She studies my face like she’s trying to find the edge of me.
“You’re older than me.”
“Yes.”
“How much older?”
“Enough.”
Her brows pinch.
“I’m thirty-eight,” I add.
Her breath catches.
“I’m twenty-three.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“It should bother you,” I say, and let the honesty sit where it lands.
Her eyes hold mine, unblinking now.
“I’ve got things in my head that don’t belong near someone like you,” I continue, voice even. “Some nights I wake up like I’m still in it. I don’t always know where I am.”
She doesn’t step back.
I should make her.
“I’ve got demons,” I say plainly. “I don’t pretend otherwise.”
Silence.
Then, soft as a vow, she says, “I don’t care.”
Her breath hitches like she surprised herself.
“You don’t touch a man like me unless you’re ready to be claimed.”
Her hands tighten on my shirt.
“What if I don’t want to step back?”
That does something dangerous to me.
My other hand settles at her waist, steadying her, keeping her close.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” I say.
“Then show me.”
That’s it.
That’s the moment.
I kiss her.
Hard. Certain. No hesitation.
My hand slides into her hair, anchoring her. The other pulls her flush against me.
She makes a small sound into my mouth, and it almost undoes me.
Her hands climb my chest, over my shoulders. She rises on her toes.
I walk her back until her shoulders meet the wall.
I break the kiss just long enough to breathe.
“If I start,” I say against her lips, “I won’t stop. I don’t do gentle.”
Her answer isn’t words.
She kisses me again.
Harder.
A low growl rumbles out of me before I can swallow it back.
My grip tightens in her hair. The firelight flickers across her skin.
Her pulse pounds under my fingers.
And I know two things with absolute clarity.
He will come for her.
And I will burn the world down before he gets near her again.