Page 4 of Blade (Spartan Watchmen MC #5)

Okay, that one didn't sound too bad.

"Rule two: No leaving the property without me. Ever. For any reason. Until this is taken care of, you will be with me at all times. If for some reason, I can’t be here, one of my brothers will be."

That one she'd expected. He couldn’t exactly protect her if she didn’t tell him where she was going.

"Rule three: Complete honesty. No lies, no half-truths, no omissions."

That might be more difficult.

"Rule four: respect. For yourself and for me. That means not deliberately putting yourself down, no self-destructive behavior, no yelling and no name calling."

She frowned. "Define disrespect."

His lips quirked. "Sass is fine, to a point. I don't expect you to be a doormat. I do expect basic courtesy and for you to follow the first three rules without constantly fighting me on them."

Lily nodded slowly. The rules themselves weren't unreasonable. It was the underlying dynamic that made her uncomfortable. The clear power imbalance. The way he was setting himself up as her... protector. Caretaker.

Daddy.

The word flitted through her mind before she could stop it.

"And the consequences?" she forced herself to ask, pushing the thought away.

Blade's expression turned serious. "Depends on the infraction. Minor stuff, you'll get a warning. After that, corner time. For serious disobedience or putting yourself in danger, you'll find yourself over my knee for a spanking. Just so we are perfectly clear, Lily, I only spank on the bare ass."

Heat rushed to her face, partly from embarrassment, partly from... something else she didn't want to examine too closely.

"You can't just... just spank me," she protested weakly. "I'm not a child."

"No, you're not," he agreed, his eyes darkening. "And we both know that's not why it would happen."

Her breath caught. He knew. He knew all about the kind of relationship she craved.

"You've been in the lifestyle before," he continued, watching her reaction closely.

"The club knows about your visits to Razor's Edge before you started hanging out at The Citadel.

We both know you are a little, and unlike Savannah who had no experience in the lifestyle when she was blackmailed, you had plenty of it. "

Razor's Edge. The BDSM club where she'd first explored her submissive side. Where she'd discovered that being a little—having a Daddy Dom who would care for her, protect her, discipline her when needed—was what she truly wanted. No, not wanted. Needed. Craved. Desired.

That was different," she whispered. "That was consensual."

"And this isn't?" His voice was low, steady, threaded with something possessive and raw. "You know you belong to me, Lily. You felt it at The Citadel the same way I did. Don’t lie to yourself now."

She opened her mouth to argue, but no sound came. Because she had felt it. That connection. That pull. Like gravity had shifted and made him her center.

He stepped closer, closing the space between them. Not threatening, but absolute. Certain. “You are mine. And I protect what is mine. But I won’t chain you, Lily. If you really want to leave, I won’t stop you. Not physically, anyway.”

Her eyes searched his, looking for a trap, but all she saw was conviction. Heat. A promise.

“I’d strongly advise against it,” he added. “There are people out there who want you dead. And walking away from me means walking right into their crosshairs. You go, you’re not just risking your life. You're risking your parents’ lives too.”

The truth hit her like a punch. She wasn’t trapped by him. She was trapped by the world outside.

“So it’s stay and follow your rules… or leave and probably die,” she said bitterly.

“Pretty much,” he said, one corner of his mouth tugging into something almost like a smile. “Though I’d like to think staying has some perks beyond basic survival.”

She lifted an eyebrow, wary but curious. “Such as?”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t waver. Just said, “Such as being mine. Fully. Officially. If you want that.” The air between them thickened, charged with something that had been building for too long.

So,” he said, voice dipping into something dark and tender all at once, “what’s it gonna be, baby girl? Do you want to be mine? I can promise you safety. Security. Not having to be alone and afraid anymore." He paused, then added softly, "Having someone care for you the way you need."

Lily's heart hammered in her chest. This was dangerous territory. He was offering exactly what she'd always wanted but under duress, when she was at her most vulnerable. It wasn't right. It wasn't how this was supposed to happen.

"I don't need anyone," she lied.

Blade sighed. "Rule three, baby girl. Complete honesty, remember?"

Those words again. Baby girl. And the way he looked at her, like he could see right through her walls, right into the heart of her.

"Fine," she admitted, looking away. "Maybe I do want... that kind of relationship. Eventually. With someone I choose, when I'm not being hunted."

"Fair enough," he conceded. "But while you're here, under my protection, you'll follow my rules. You might not be ready to admit it yet, but you are mine Lily. My little girl. I’ve got all the time in the world, but my patience will wear out eventually."

Was he serious? Was he actually giving her space to decide if she wanted the Daddy/little dynamic with him? After making it clear he'd enforce his rules regardless?

It was confusing. And strangely considerate.

"Okay," she said finally.

"Okay, what?" he pressed.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'll follow your rules while I'm here."

He nodded once, satisfied. "Good girl."

The praise sent a pleasant shiver down her spine that she desperately tried to ignore.

A knock at the door interrupted the moment. Blade immediately tensed, hand going to his waistband where she assumed he kept a gun.

"Stay here," he ordered, moving silently toward the door.

Lily held her breath, reminded of the danger lurking outside these walls. Blade checked the security camera feed on his phone, then relaxed slightly.

"It's Doc," he told her, tucking his gun away before opening the door.

A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped inside, carrying a medical bag. His eyes found Lily immediately, assessing her with a professional gaze.

"This the patient?" he asked Blade.

"Ankle infection," Blade confirmed. "Possible dehydration and malnutrition too."

"I'm right here," Lily reminded them irritably. "And I'm fine."

Doc chuckled, setting his bag on the coffee table. "Let me be the judge of that, young lady."

She bristled at his tone but allowed him to examine her ankle, unwrapping Blade's bandage carefully.

"Mmm," Doc murmured, probing gently. "Wire burns, infected. You start her on antibiotics?"

Blade nodded. "This morning. Z-Pak from my emergency kit, I’ll need a replacement."

"Of course, I’ll send one over tomorrow. She'll need a full course."

“Aren’t antibiotics supposed to be specific to the weight of the patient? I mean, I’m at least fifty pounds less than Blade.”

“Z-Pak doses are standard for adults. It’s the antibiotic of choice for emergency kits because not only is the dose standard, it is a broad-spectrum antibiotic.

In an emergency where antibiotics need to be administered before medical professionals can get there, it’s the antibiotic of choice.

” Doc reassured her. "Any pain elsewhere? Truthfully, now."

She hesitated, then admitted, "My wrists, a little. They used zip ties too, before the wire."

Blade growled like an angry bear, and Doc shot him a warning look.

"Let me see," Doc said gently.

Lily extended her arms, revealing the faded red marks around her wrists. They'd mostly healed on their own.

"I'll put some antibiotic ointment on these too, just to be safe," Doc decided. "Any dizziness? Nausea? Trouble keeping food down?"

"No," she said. "I'm really okay. Just tired and sore."

"Hmm." Doc didn't look entirely convinced. He took her vital signs, checked her eyes and throat, then finally sat back.

"Well, you're not on death's door, but you're not 'fine' either," he concluded. "You need rest, proper nutrition, and those antibiotics. The infection should clear up in a week or so if you take care of yourself."

He turned to Blade. "Make sure she eats regularly. Small, frequent meals might be best at first. Plenty of fluids. And keep her off that ankle as much as possible."

"I don't need a babysitter," Lily protested.

Both men ignored her.

"I've got it covered. Thanks, Doc," Blade said, walking him to the door.

They spoke in low voices for a moment, too quiet for Lily to hear. Then Doc was gone, and Blade was locking the door securely behind him.

"See? That wasn't so bad," Blade said, turning back to her.

Lily scowled. "I told you I was fine."

"And I told you that lying breaks rule three." He approached her. “Doc said you are not fine.”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

"Good girl," he replied. Then crouched down in front of her. "Now, let me see those wrists."

Before she could protest, he took her hands in his, turning them to examine the marks.

His touch was gentle, at odds with his intimidating appearance.

He opened the tube of ointment and carefully applied it to each wrist, his fingers barely ghosting over her skin.

“I should have noticed these sooner. I’m sorry, baby girl. ”

Lily's breath hitched. She couldn't remember the last time someone had touched her with such care.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

He looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers. "Doing what?"

"Taking care of me. Being... gentle."

Something flashed across his face—surprise, maybe, then anger and finally understanding.

"Because you need it," he said simply. "And because I can. You’re mine."

It wasn't the answer she'd expected. Not because it's my job or because the club ordered me to .

Because you need it. And because I can. You’re mine.

Lily didn't know what to say to that. So, she said nothing, just watched as he finished treating her wrists, then moved to her ankle, applying fresh ointment and a new bandage with the same careful attention.

When he was done, he straightened up, towering over her once more. "There. Now, Doc said to stay off this ankle. That means you're on couch rest for the day."

She opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it. She was exhausted, her body finally feeling the effects of weeks of stress and poor self-care.

"Fine," she conceded.

"Good girl," he said again, and this time, she couldn't suppress the little shiver that ran through her at the praise.

Blade noticed. Of course he did. His eyes darkened, but he didn't comment.

Instead, he scooped her up without warning, lifting her as if she weighed nothing.

"Hey!" she yelped, automatically wrapping her arms around his neck to steady herself.

"Couch," he said by way of explanation, carrying her to the living room. "Faster this way."

He deposited her gently on the couch, arranging a throw pillow under her injured ankle. Then he grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over her.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

She nodded, suddenly feeling very small and very cared for. It was... nice. Dangerous, but nice.

"I need to make some calls," Blade told her. "Club business. TV remote's there if you want it. I won't be long."

With that, he stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind him.

Lily sank deeper into the couch, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Despite everything, despite the danger, the uncertainty, the confusing emotions swirling inside her, she felt safe for the first time in weeks.

Safe with a man who made her feel small and protected. A man who seemed to instinctively understand what she needed.

A man who could very well break her heart if she let him.

Because that was the thing about Daddies, wasn't it? They made you feel safe and cared for. Made you believe they'd always be there. Until they weren't.

Like Greg, who'd claimed to be the Daddy Dom she needed, only to bail when he discovered she couldn't have children.

Blade would be the same. Once she was no longer his responsibility, once the danger had passed, he'd move on. Back to his life as the club's enforcer. Back to whatever women usually warmed his bed.

Women who weren't broken. Who weren't hunted. Who weren't… her.

She couldn't let herself forget that. Couldn't let herself fall into that little space where everything felt safe and warm and right.

No matter how much her heart yearned for it.

Through the window, she could see Blade pacing on the porch, phone to his ear. His expression was grim, his posture tense. Whatever news he was receiving, it wasn't good.

Her stomach knotted with anxiety. What now? What fresh hell awaited them?

Blade glanced back at the house, his eyes finding hers through the window. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then he nodded once, a silent reassurance.

I've got you. You're safe.

Despite her resolve, Lily felt herself begin to believe him.