Page 33 of Blade

“Maybe I should wear jeans,” I mutter….

I’m supposed to be taking my car to Dark Angel’s Motors, but I can’t decide how to dress. My hair is down, how Blade likes it, but clothing-wise, I’m stuck.

Jeans mean I’m strictly there for the car, and I don’t want him to take me on his workbench, something my clit throbs at the thought of, and that I’m only there for car business. A dress could mean sex, but I want…damn, I want more. I want to talk to him, get to know him, and maybe, I don’t know, maybe find out his legal name.

I want him to get to know me, not the me who is abused or raped by my brother’s best friend, his VP, but the girl I was before that, the girl who loved to laugh and jump into lakes and climb trees.

I want him to fall for me too.

I sigh, grab my phone, walk out of my bedroom, and head to the kitchen counter to get my keys.

I’m asking for too much from him.

This is supposed to be just sex. It’s what we agreed. I mean, it’s not like he’s falling for me. We don’t even talk outside of sex, like no communication at all, though, to be fair I don’t have any communication with anyone.

I’ve handed in all my final papers, thankfully passing, though only just so I’ve either been here or worked with no one to talk to. Heck, I’m surprised I still even have a job. After I kicked my brother out of my apartment, I haven’t heard anything from him, and Mama has stopped trying to reach me, though to be fair, that one I’m not too upset about.

What kind of mother calls their thirteen-year-old a liar and then makes said daughter's father’s funeral all about her. It isn’t like she didn’t know he had mistresses. I’m just shocked only one turned up at the funeral.

I needed her, and she wasn’t there for me, and now she’s having an affair with a taken brother, or more like blackmailing him into the affair anyhow.

“So much for family,” I mutter and walk over to the front door with my heart in my throat.

Four days since I slept with Blade, two days since Brock cornered me in the ladies at the diner and forced himself inside my mouth.

Bile builds yet again, the images of his gleam in his eyes hitting me hard as he spouted that I’m all his and that apparently, within the next month, I’ll be wearing his cut, that he has a plan, and again I wonder if I should go to Blade knowing the dirt on me because of that man.

I don’t know how much more I can take of his abuse. Seven years is a lot for one person, and now I just… God, I don’t want to be here anymore as much as it hurts to think because I am fallingfor Blade. I can feel myself slipping away bit by bit, and I don’t think I’ll ever come back, even for him.

He’d be better off without me anyhow, especially after he realizes I’m filthy, but until then, I think I need to take all the goodness from him before I decide to end it all.

My eyes tear up at the thought of committing suicide hits me again, and I lock my front door as I shake my head, trying to wash the thoughts away as I walk down the hallway.

I need to see Blade. I pause in my step and drop my head, sighing as I realize I’m becoming dependent on him to help take away my trauma, and I know that isn’t healthy. If anything, it means we need to end things soon.

Damn.

“Purpose for entry?” the young man on the gate with a prospect cut and a mean scowl demands half an hour later after I’ve rolled my window down, stopping in front of the large metal gates.

“Blade has my car booked in at ten,” I say with a bit of nerves because, well, he’s scary for a prospect. I mean, his eyes look nearly black, and his whole head is shaved and tattooed, not to mention he’s built like a fricking tank.

Aren’t prospects usually scrawny?

The guy looks at the sheet in his hands, then walks around the car and reads my number plate before giving me a smile, which makes him look like a completely different man and makes me blink. He nods, then opens the gate and states, “Have a good day, ma’am.”

Holy…

I give him a small smile in return, trying not to show him how much he freaked me out, though something inside me tells me he already knows and is most likely happy about it.

I take a deep breath, put my car into drive, and pull forward before swinging to the left of the clubhouse, ignoring all thebikes out front. I drive down a little road before pulling up in front of the black garage, parking in front like Blade requested before switching off the engine.

My palms sweat a little.

Normally, I’d be excited about seeing him, but what Brock did two days ago dampened things a little, and I hate him even more for it.

Blade has become my happy place, something I never thought I’d have, and even though I know he mostly likely doesn’t feel the same, I’m lucky enough to have this feeling, even if it’s just for a little while.

Out of instinct, I look up through the garage doors so I can see Blade work for a few minutes because, well, there’s just something about a man in a tank top, overalls tied at the waist, dripping with sweat, and covered in oil. Or maybe, more like Blade but I frown seeing him talking to some woman whose hands fly all over the place.

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