Page 13 of Blade’s Protection

"You should." The words tasted like ash. "You should run far and fast from me and this life."

"Why?"

"Because I destroy everything I touch." The admission ripped out before I could stop it. "My unit in Afghanistan—some of them dead because I made the wrong call. My sister—died while I was overseas playing soldier instead of being here. Everyone who gets close to me ends up hurt or dead."

She studied my face, those doe eyes seeing too much. "Tell me about Afghanistan."

"No."

"Tell me." Her hands framed my face, forcing me to look at her. "Whatever you're carrying, whatever makes you think you're poison—tell me."

I pulled away, needing distance, but she followed. Always pushing, never backing down.

"2019. Kandahar Province." Each word scraped my throat raw. "Intelligence said the building was clear. I made the call to breach. Had a bad feeling but ignored it because the intel came from a trusted source." My hands clenched. "IED took out Torres and Mitchell instantly. Rodriguez bled out in my arms. Jackson died in the medevac. Four brothers dead because I didn't trust my instincts."

"That wasn't your fault⁠—"

"I was team leader. My call. My responsibility." I turned to face her. "Four families destroyed because I made the wrong choice. You want to add yours to that list?"

"You're not in Afghanistan anymore."

"No, but the violence followed me home. The darkness. You think what I did to that driver yesterday was bad? That's nothing compared to what I'm capable of. What I've done."

She moved closer despite my confession. "I'm not afraid of your darkness."

"You should be. Christ, Tiffany, I'm sixteen years older than you. You should be with someone your age, someone whole, someone who doesn't wake up with their hands around their partner's throat because they're dreaming of combat."

"Has that happened?"

"Once. Which is why I sleep alone."

"But you slept fine last night. With me."

She was right. First nightmare-free sleep in months. But that only proved how dangerous she was to my control.

"You deserve better. Someone who can give you normal. Suburban house, regular job, kids who don't have to worry about their dad's enemies showing up. Not someone who brings danger to your door."

"I already had danger at my door. You're the one standing between me and it." She pressed closer, and I backed up until I hit the counter. "And I don't want normal. I want you."

"You're twenty-four. You don't know what you want."

"Stop." Fire flashed in her expression. "Stop using my age as an excuse. I'm an adult. I've lived on my own, put myself through nursing school, survived my own struggles. I know exactly what I want."

She rose on her toes, mouth inches from mine. "I want the man who gave up his bed for my comfort. Who makes sure I eat even when he's stressed. Who protects without smothering. Who looks at me like I'm precious but treats me like I'm strong."

"Tiffany—"

She kissed me.

Not gentle like I'd expected. Demanding, claiming, taking what she wanted. Her tongue swept into my mouth, and my control shattered. I spun us, lifting her onto the counter, stepping between her thighs. The position put all those dangerous curves at my mercy—full breasts pressed against my chest, soft thighs gripping my hips. The t-shirt rode up, and my hands found bare skin, all that softness I'd been denying myself. The contrast of her plush curves against my scarred hardness made us both groan.

She moaned into my mouth, legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer. The thin fabric between us did nothing to hide her heat, her need. My hands gripped her hips, fingers sinking into yielding flesh, and my body responded, hard and aching, wanting nothing more than to claim her right here against my kitchen counter.

Her hands explored my chest, nails scraping, finding scars and tracing them like she was memorizing my damage. Each touch felt like absolution and damnation combined.

"Bedroom," she gasped against my mouth.

That single word snapped me back to reality. What the fuck was I doing? She was under my protection, threatened, vulnerable. And I was pawing at her like an animal.