Page 30 of Blade's Princess

He nods. "Told her you're studying to be a vet tech. She said it's good experience, especially with your online courses. Might lead to a paid position eventually, depending on how it goes.” He still looks uncertain as he studies my face, his gaze stopped on the tears I know are pooling in my eyes. “If you want it, that is. You don’t have to accept. You’re under no obligation?—”

Emotion clogs my throat. During all my years living with Aunt Margaret, not once did anyone support my dreams. Any aspirations I voiced were met with mockery at best, punishment at worst.

“Not want it?” I say a little too loudly. “Of course I want it.” I sit up my hands cupping my mouth in an attempt to contain the hysterical burst of laughter that wants to escape. A corner of his mouth lifts in a relieved half-smile at my reaction. “Oh, my god, Blade, thank you so much.”

His expression softens. "Seeing you happy is all the thanks I need, princess." He kisses me gently. “I want to see you become everything you're meant to be."

I press my lips to his again, trying to convey what words can't express. When I pull back, his eyes have darkened again, and I know if we don't get out of bed soon, we never will.

"Come on," he says, as if reading my thoughts. “I want to check on Max.”

It’s only then that I realize that the prospect who took Max out to do his business early this morning never brought him back to our room.

We dress quickly—me in jeans and a soft green sweater Angel loaned me, Blade in his usual black t-shirt and jeans, his cut going on last like armor. I watch him pull on his boots, mesmerized by the fluid strength in every movement. I still can't believe this man—this powerful, dangerous man—has chosen me.

The main room of the clubhouse is already busy when we enter. Several brothers lounge on the worn leather couches or talk in small groups. The air smells of coffee and bacon.

But what catches my eye, what brings another lump to my throat, is Max.

The dog lies on what can only be described as a throne—an ornate dog bed elevated on what looks like a memory foam cushion draped with soft blankets. Saint, the intimidating Sergeant at Arms, is on his knees beside Max, offering what appears to be bacon from his own breakfast plate.

"He's club now," Blade comments beside me, amusement in his voice. "Brothers will be spoiling him rotten.”

Max spots me and immediately rises and trots—yes,trots—over with a wagging tail. Within only hours of affection and attention, he's already transforming. Of course, it’ll take longer for his coat to regain its shine and for his too-slender frame tofill out, but the cautious, fearful slouch is gone from his posture. He must know with a dog’s sixth sense that he’s safe and among friends here.

I kneel to greet him, laughing as he licks my face with enthusiastic affection. "Good morning to you too, buddy." I run my hands along his sides again. I checked him last night for any wounds or tender areas and found none. Fortunately, Aunt Margaret’s abuse hadn’t yet extended to beating him. I’m confident that with all this love and affection as well as proper nutrition, he’ll recover quickly.

Hawk drops into a nearby chair with a coffee mug clutched in his tattooed hands. "Haven't seen Saint share food since...well, ever."

Saint flips Hawk off without looking up from where he's refilling Max's water bowl.

"He likes you guys,” I tell Hawk, scratching behind Max's ears. "He usually takes longer to warm up to people."

Hawk's expression softens as he reaches out, letting Max sniff his hand before giving him a gentle pat. "Smart dog." He shoots me a wink before getting up to join a game of pool.

I follow Blade to the kitchen where there are stacks of pancakes, bacon, and eggs that smell heavenly. The casual abundance of food still startles me.

"Good morning," Rash greets me with a respectful nod before turning to Blade. "Coffee's fresh, VP."

I'm still getting used to how everyone defers to Blade, the respect in their tones when addressing him. It's a stark reminder of who he is in this world—not just my protector, but a leader of dangerous men.

Blade fills a plate for me, piling it high with pancakes and adding a generous side of bacon. While I dig into breakfast, he crosses the kitchen to talk club business with Ghost.

When Angel slides onto the bench seat across from me, her purple-streaked hair pulled into a messy bun, I’m unable to keep the excitement from my voice as I tell her about the volunteer opportunity Blade lined up for me.

"Vet clinic, huh?” She steals a piece of bacon from my plate with a wink. “That's perfect for you."

"I still can't believe it.” I shake my head in wonder. "A week ago none of this would have seemed possible."

"That's how it works around here," she says, glancing to where Blade stands talking with Ghost, their heads bent together in serious conversation. "These men—they act tough, but when they care about you, they move mountains."

Her words ring true. In less than a week, Blade has given me more than I dared dream of—safety, freedom, a chance at my dream career. And something else, something I'm almost afraid to name even in the privacy of my own thoughts.

"How did you adjust?" I ask Angel, lowering my voice. "To all of this. The club, the lifestyle..." I gesture vaguely around us. "Sometimes it feels like I've stepped into another world."

Angel's lips curve into an understanding smile. "It is another world. One with its own rules, its own justice system." She sips her coffee thoughtfully. "It was hard at first. I came from...well, a bad situation. Different from yours, but similar in some ways. The noise, the brothers, the constant presence of people—it was overwhelming."

I nod, relieved that someone understands. While I'm grateful for the safety of the clubhouse, the adjustment from isolation to constant companionship has been jarring.

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