Page 18 of Blade

Oh crap, crap, crap.

“Somehow, I doubt you’ll stab me,” he says cockily, tilting his head, “You’re not only sweating at the prospect of it, but your hand is also shaking like a leaf.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and mutter, “You’d be surprised what someone would do under pressure.”

He grins again and returns, “Oh, I know exactly what someone is capable of when under pressure, but you? I think you’d buckle.”

I narrow my eyes at his again, hating that he thinks I’m some weakling.

I’ve spent the past seven years being raped, having no one by my side, yet I’m still here standing. I may want to end things, but in my eyes, ending things makes me braver.

I press harder with the knife without thinking, but all he does is chuckle before suddenly, his hand is grabbing the knife while his other grabs my wrist so quick I don’t have time to react. He pulls me towards him but twists me before my back hits his front, making me gasp in shock.

The hard muscle of his chest presses against my back as he brings the knife around and puts it to my throat, but I don’t tense.

A part of me, a small part, is scared, but the larger part hopes he digs the knife in.

“Did you know my road name is Blade, princess?” he whispers in my ear as he wraps his free arm around my waist, holding me against him. I swallow hard because, no, I did not know that, but what I do know is that brothers get their road names because of their skills or whatever stupid thing they’ve done warranted to get their president’s attention.

Axe had accidentally thrown an axe, aiming for the tree but hit dad’s Harley, which I have to admit was hilarious though somehow, I don’t think this man got the name Blade for shits and giggles.

“All I’d have to do is put a little pressure, and blood will spill,” he continues, his hot breath sending a shiver through me and my clit pulses, shocking me.

I-I…. I’m aroused…. What the hell?

I try to control my breathing, hoping he goes through with it, ignoring my body's reaction to him, but instead, he disappoints me when he flips the knife around and then places it back in my apron before twisting me around, making me gasp in shock.

Our eyes lock, and instantly, I’m entranced. My skin heats up like it’s on fire with his touch on my arms.

His eyes race between mine before he mumbles, “That would be a waste though, wouldn’t it?” then leans down and gently places a small kiss at the corner of my mouth.

I suck in a breath at the electricity running through me, the sparks from his lips alone making my body hum, but as he pulls back, smirking, I instantly miss his heat.

Crap, no, bad body.

Blade slowly walks backward and rounds the counter. Just as he reaches the front door, he turns to me and says, “Next time, don’t leave a spare key above the door," my mouth opens in shock, and he grins, “I’ll be seeing you, princess,” then leaves, locking the door behind him.

I watch as he mounts his dark red Harley before looking through the windows once more. Our eyes lock, and a promise shining in his eyes makes my stomach tighten. He smirks and revs his bike before he spins away.

Swallowing hard, I lean against the counter, my body suddenly weak.

I’ve never reacted like that before. I never wanted someone to hold me longer than normal. His touch alone set my heart racing, and his touch alone felt like electric volts shooting through me, wanting more.

The encounter with Brock comes back in flashes, and complete shock takes over as I mutter, “He took away the filth, he made me forget…”

Not once did I think of what happened not more than ten minutes ago, and though the thought of dying still arose, I didn’t feel the pain that was slowly coming back. I forgot about the burning in my chest, and Blade became my whole focus, and suddenly, I wanted him, but more importantly, I wanted him to want me.

I blink as tears fill my eyes.

I know what I felt when he touched me, I didn’t feel dirty or sick, instead I felt whole. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me and remove the bad memories, but that was just a silly pipe dream.

I am damaged goods, and he’s the president of the Dark Angels.

I’m pretty sure our clubs are on the verge of war, meaning, even if I wanted to try and have a life with someone, if I could overlook the horror of my life, he’s off limits anyhow.

Sighing, I turn and look at the mess that still needs cleaning behind the counter and eye it for a few minutes before mumbling, “Screw it,” and I storm to the back where the lockers are.

I’ll just do it tomorrow, or heck, I may even call in sick because today has taken it out of me. Honestly, I have a lot of coursework to do, and my brother can’t expect me to work seven days a week.

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