Page 3 of Blade’s Protection

"Seven o'clock." The capitulation escaped before logic could intervene.

"I'll be waiting." His attention shifted to Dr. Tad. "She doesn't leave alone. Not for lunch, not for supplies, nothing."

"Understood."

His attention returned to me, the intensity of it making my skin flush. "Phone."

I fumbled it from my pocket. Our fingers brushed in the exchange, and my whole hand tingled from that brief contact. His jaw clenched—he'd felt it too.

He programmed his number and returned the phone. "Any hint of trouble—weird call, someone watching, even just a bad feeling—you contact me immediately."

"This seems excessive for just threats⁠—"

"Two weeks of escalation ending in home invasion isn't just threats." His voice went lethal. "It's foreplay before something worse. Seen this pattern before."

"In Pike Creek?"

Shadows crossed his features before disappearing behind control. "Predators hunt the same everywhere. Isolation, fear, pressure until the target breaks. Not happening on my watch."

Grace called from reception. "Mrs. Gray is here for her appointment."

"Go." Blade stepped aside, but the doorway meant brushing against him. That brief press of my body to his solid chest made me bite back a whimper. "Do your job. I'll be around."

"Thank you," I whispered, meaning everything—the protection, making me feel less alone, the way his presence made my body sing.

"Don't thank me yet, princess. We're just starting."

The rest of my shift passed in hyperawareness. He didn't hover, but I caught glimpses—checking windows, quiet words with Dr. Tad, materializing whenever I entered an empty room. Should have felt suffocating. Instead, my body stayed in a constant state of arousal, knowing he watched, protected, commanded the space around me.

When I bent to retrieve dropped supplies, I felt his attention like a physical touch. When I reached for high shelves, my scrub top riding up to reveal a strip of skin, his presence seemed to intensify. By afternoon, I was fumbling simple tasks, fingers unsteady not from fear but from the building tension between us.

Even Mrs. Gray noticed. "You're flushed, dear. Coming down with something?"

If only she knew. What I was coming down with had nothing to do with illness and everything to do with the dangerous man shadowing my every move.

At six-forty-five, my phone buzzed. Unknown number.

Running out of patience, nurse. Pills better start moving tonight.

My hands shook as I forwarded it to Blade's number.

He appeared in the doorway within seconds, expression murderous. "When?"

"Just now."

He examined my phone with practiced efficiency. "Burner, bounced signal, but they're getting sloppy." His expression turned grim. "They'll likely move tonight."

"Move?"

"Grab you. Hurt you. Make their point." The casual tone made it worse. "Why you're not going anywhere alone."

Seven o'clock arrived too fast. Grace's knowing looks between Blade and me guaranteed the entire town would know by morning. Small-town gossip traveled at light speed.

Outside, his motorcycle waited—all black chrome and barely contained power, matching its owner. My beat-up car looked pathetic beside it.

"Follow close," he commanded. "Don't stop for anything. Someone tries to flag you down, keep driving. Someone cuts you off, horn and accelerate. Clear?"

"Clear."