Page 22 of Blade (Spartan Watchmen MC #5)
It was slow at first, reverent. Her lips brushed his with careful precision, mindful of his injuries, of the bandage, of his exhaustion. But when his good arm slid around her waist, anchoring her against him, the kiss deepened and turned molten.
All the moments of longing poured into it.
The pain, the fear, the time spent wondering if they’d ever have this moment, if they’d be alive for it.
If they'd ever get to taste each other like this, with the threat of tomorrow’s mission hanging overhead, gave the kiss a desperate intensity.
Her hands framed his face, thumbs stroking his jaw as their mouths moved in sync, drinking each other in.
Blade groaned softly, the sound buried in her mouth. His grip tightened on her hip, guiding her carefully to straddle him without touching his injured side. She moved slowly, every motion deliberate, her body instinctively protective of his.
“You okay?” she whispered against his lips.
“Yeah,” he rasped, eyes dark and glassy with emotion. “More than okay.”
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 too keenly 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.
"I love that about you," he corrected. "I love everything about you, Lily Hart. Even the parts that terrify me."
"Like me going on this mission today?"
"Especially that," he agreed. "But I understand why you need to do it. Why you can't stand by while others risk themselves." His eyes held hers, serious now. "Just promise me you'll be careful. That you'll follow the plan. No unnecessary risks."
"I promise," she said solemnly. "I have too much to come back for."
A knock at the door interrupted their moment. "Lily?" Mak’s voice called. "We need you for final prep. Twenty minutes."
"Coming," Lily called back. She turned to Blade, regret in her eyes. "I have to go."
He nodded, releasing her reluctantly. "I know. Just... come see me before you leave? One last time?"
"Of course," she promised, pressing a final kiss to his lips before sliding from the bed.
She dressed quickly in the clothes they'd prepared for the mission, the fitted black pants and compression shirt she'd wear under the tactical vest until the final approach, when she'd throw a dress on over it, to maintain the illusion for Jose.
She deftly braided her hair into two side French braids.
Not only would it help with the little persona, it would also keep her hair out of her face and make it harder to grab in a combat situation.
At the door, she paused, looking back at Blade propped up against the pillows. Strong even in his injured state. Fierce even in his vulnerability.
"I love you," she said simply.
"I love you too," he replied, no hesitation. "Now go be the warrior I know you are. And come back to me, baby girl."
She nodded once, drawing strength from his confidence in her, then stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.
Makenzie was waiting, already dressed in the same tactical gear, her expression businesslike. "Ready?"
Lily squared her shoulders, her mind shifting into mission mode. "Ready."
Together, they moved through the clubhouse toward the main area, where the rest of the team would be assembling. With each step, Lily felt herself transforming, shedding the softness of the woman who had slept in Blade's arms, becoming the fighter she needed to be today.
The little girl retreating, the warrior advancing.
Not gone, her little side was never gone, but protected deep within, where Jose and his men couldn't reach her. Couldn't hurt her. Couldn't use her vulnerability against her.
Today, she would be steel. Today, she would be fire.
And tomorrow, God willing, she would be Lily again. Whole. Safe. Home. Little.
In Daddy Blade's arms, where she belonged.