Page 12 of Blade's Runaway Bride
"It's fine," she says quickly. Too quickly. Her cheeks are flushed, and it's not from pain.
Well, shit.
I finish as efficiently as possible, trying to ignore the way her breathing has changed, slightly faster now, or how the pulse at her throat visibly quickens when my fingers brush sensitive skin. This is not happening. I'm not going to complicate an already fucked-up situation by getting hard over a woman who just escaped sexual slavery.
Because that's what it was, wasn't it? Dressed up as a "marriage," but the endgame was the same. Owning her, using her, breaking her.
The thought kills any inappropriate response my body might have been considering. I close the first aid kit with more force than necessary and stand.
"You should sleep," I tell her, putting distance between us. "Take the bed. I'll be in the main room."
She looks surprised. "You're not staying?"
"No."
Her eyebrows draw together. "But won't your president be suspicious if you're not keeping an eye on me?"
"I'll be right outside. You try to leave, I'll know."
She doesn't seem reassured by this. If anything, she looks more uneasy than before. "What if they come back? The Vultures MC."
"They won't."
"They found us on the road," she points out. "They could find us here."
She's not wrong, but I'm not about to tell her that. The Vultures MC have been getting bolder, pushing deeper into our territory. That's why I was out patrolling in the first place.
"This place is a fortress compared to that warehouse," I say instead. "And there are always armed men awake. You're safe here."
The word "safe" seems to trigger something in her. Her eyes fill suddenly with tears she quickly blinks away, but not before I catch the glimmer of them.
"I haven't been safe in a long time," she whispers, almost to herself.
Something twists in my chest, an unfamiliar sensation I immediately try to shut down. I don't do sympathy. I don't do comfort. I'm the club's weapon, not its fucking therapist.
But before I can stop myself, I'm sitting beside her on the bed, not touching, but close enough that she could lean into me if she wanted to.
"I killed the men who were hunting you tonight," I remind her, my voice low and steady. "I'll kill anyone else who tries. You have my word on that."
She looks at me then, her blue eyes searching mine like she's trying to read something written there. "Why? You don't even know me."
It's a good fucking question. One I've been asking myself since I stopped my bike on that dark road.
"You were running from Vultures MC," I say finally. "That makes you either very brave or very stupid. Either way, you're now a problem for Charles. I like causing problems for Charles."
It's not the whole truth, but it's the only part I'm willing to share right now.
She seems to accept it, nodding slightly. "Thank you. For stopping. For helping me. For..." she gestures to her now-bandaged legs. "This."
"Don't thank me yet," I warn her. "Tomorrow, Reaper's going to want answers about Charles's operation. Everything you know about where they're based, how many men, what kind of weapons. If you can't deliver, or if he thinks you're lying..." I let the implication hang.
"I understand," she says, and I believe she does. "I'll tell him everything I know. I want them stopped as much as you do. My sister is still with them."
Right. The sister. The complication she mentioned earlier. A sister still in Charles's clutches changes things. Makes Kelly both more valuable and more vulnerable.
"Get some sleep," I say, standing. "Morning comes early around here."
She nods but makes no move to lie down. "What's your real name?" she asks suddenly.
