Page 56 of Blade

She kissed him again, deeper this time. Tongue sliding against his in a sensual dance that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with soul-deep connection. Her fingers tangled in his hair, while his good hand explored her back, her waist and every inch between.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and trembling, their foreheads rested together. Silence fell again, but it was full of meaning, of love unspoken, of two hearts holding onto something bigger than the fear.

“I don’t want this to be our last night,” she said quietly.

“Then make it count,” Blade murmured. “Right here. Right now. With me.”

And so she did.

Wrapped in moonlight and each other, they held on for tonight, for whatever came after, or whatever didn’t. Tomorrow wasn’t promised to either of them, a fact they were both tookeenly aware of. They couldn’t have sex, not in his physical state, not with the medication being pumped into his veins, but there was intimacy in laying together, cuddled in each other’s arms and talking. They talked and kissed until Blade fell asleep next to her.

Hours later, Lily lay in Blade's arms, her head on his uninjured shoulder, her body curled protectively around his larger frame. The clubhouse had gone quiet, most members either sleeping or on security detail outside. Moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting silver shadows across the bed.

Blade was deeply asleep, the pain medication allowed him to relax. Lily, however, remained awake, her mind cycling through tomorrow's plan, identifying potential risks, visualizing her responses to various scenarios.

Her father had taught her this mental preparation technique years ago."The body can't go where the mind hasn't been,"he'd say."Run through it in your head first. Again and again. See yourself succeeding. See yourself overcoming."

So she did. She imagined arriving at the quarry. Facing Jose. The exchange for Marcus. The moment when the trap would be sprung.

She imagined herself being strong. Capable. Worthy of the trust these men had placed in her.

Worthy of Blade's love.

Beside her, he stirred slightly, his arm tightening around her even in sleep. Protective. Possessive. As if some part of him sensed her thoughts and sought to comfort her.

"I love you," she whispered, so softly it was barely audible even to herself. "I'll come back to you. I promise."

In response, he mumbled something unintelligible, nuzzling closer to her in his drugged sleep. The simple, unconscious gesture brought tears to her eyes.

This was what she was fighting for. Not just survival, but this. Connection. Belonging. A future with this complicated, fierce, tender man who'd somehow become the center of her world in the span of a week.

A man who saw all of her, the strong and the vulnerable, the fighter and the little girl, and cherished each facet equally.

Eventually, lulled by the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his body against hers, Lily drifted into sleep. Her last conscious thought was a prayer, not for her own safety, but for the strength to protect those she had come to care for. To be worthy of their trust. Their brotherhood.

Their love.

Morning came too soon, gray light seeping through the blinds as Lily opened her eyes. For a moment, she remained still, savoring the warmth of Blade's body against hers, the solid presence that had somehow become her anchor in a chaotic world.

Then reality intruded. Today was the day. Jose's deadline. The exchange. The trap.

Carefully, trying not to wake Blade, she began to extricate herself from his embrace. But his arm tightened, refusing to let her go.

"Not yet," he murmured, voice gravelly with sleep and medication. "Stay a little longer."

She settled back against him, unable to deny either of them these few precious moments. "I thought you were still asleep."

"Been awake for an hour," he admitted. "Just watching you. Memorizing you."

The simple confession, delivered in that unguarded morning voice, made her heart clench. "I'm coming back," she reminded him. "This isn't goodbye."

"I know," he said, though the shadow in his eyes betrayed his fear. "But if it was... if this was our last morning... I wouldn't want to waste a minute of it sleeping."

She leaned up to kiss him, soft and sweet, mindful of his injuries. "It's not our last," she insisted against his lips. "I refuse to accept that."

His hand came up to stroke her hair, tenderness in every touch. "So stubborn," he murmured with fond exasperation.

"You like that about me," she reminded him.

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