Page 8 of Blade

Except for one thing.

Mr. Flopsy sat propped against the pillows beside her.

Her breath caught in her throat as she reached for the stuffed rabbit. She'd thought she'd left him behind at the motel, and the realization had brought tears to her eyes last night as Blade had ushered her into this room after her shower.

But here he was. One ear half-gone, fur matted with age. Her oldest friend.

Blade must have found him. Must have brought him along.

Why would he do that?

A gentle knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"You awake in there, baby girl?" Blade's deep voice called.

Baby girl.The nickname that shouldn't have affected her the way it did. That shouldn't have sent warmth spreading through her belly.

"Y-yes," she managed to reply, quickly shoving Mr. Flopsy under the covers. No way was she letting Blade see her clutching a stuffed animal like some actual child. Her gut said he wouldn’t mind… but her mind… logic and emotion warred with each other, as it always did, when she forced her little side deep down.

The door opened, and he filled the frame. He wore dark jeans and a black henley that stretched tight across his broad shoulders. His dark hair was slightly damp, as if he'd just showered.

"Morning," he said, his eyes scanning her face. "Sleep okay?"

She nodded, pulling the covers higher, suddenly aware that she was wearing only the oversized t-shirt he'd given her to sleep in. Her own clothes had been whisked away for washing before she could protest.

"Take the antibiotics," he said, nodding toward the nightstand. "Doc will be here in an hour to check your ankle." She wondered briefly where he’d randomly gotten a bottle of prescription antibiotics without seeing a doctor and then decided she didn’t want to know.

"I told you I don't need?—"

"Not up for discussion." His tone was firm, brooking no argument. "Either Doc checks it, or I take you to the hospital. Your choice. I’d prefer not to take you anywhere where your name will be on record right now. We don’t know who we can trust or how deep the connections are."

Lily glared at him, then snatched up the pills and the water. She swallowed them with an exaggerated gulp.

"Happy?" she asked, setting the glass down with more force than necessary.

A hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth. "Thrilled."

God, he was infuriating. Acting like he had some right to dictate her life. Like he owned her or something.

But isn't that what you want?a traitorous voice whispered in the back of her mind.Someone to take control? Someone to take care of you?

She pushed the thought away. That was exactly why she couldn't let herself fall into that headspace here. Not with him. Not when she was trapped and vulnerable and desperate.

"Breakfast is ready when you are," he said, still watching her carefully. "Think you can make it to the kitchen, or do you need help?"

"I can walk," she said, jutting her chin out defiantly.

"Suit yourself." He turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Lily?"

"What?"

He met her eyes, his gaze intense. "I see you're keeping Mr. Flopsy hidden. No need for that. Not here."

Heat rushed to her cheeks. How did he know the rabbit's name? She hadn't told him.

As if reading her mind, he added, "It's stitched on his foot. Faded, but still readable."

Of course. Her mother had sewn the name tag when Lily was five, worried she might lose him at kindergarten.

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