Blade

Chapter 51: Empty and hollow

Sienna

It’s been a week.

A whole damn week stuck in this room like a caged animal.

I haven’t seen daylight since the day I got shot. The only time I’ve stepped out was to change my bandage, and that doesn’t even count because Blade insists the doctor comes here instead.

It feels like I’m serving time for a crime I didn’t commit.

Blade hasn’t taken his eyes off me, not once. His constant watch is suffocating, and I swear, it’s driving me insane. He won’t even let me move without his permission.

The few times I had to go to the bathroom, whether to shower or take care of my business, Blade always seemed tempted to follow me. I refused a few times, but the man doesn’t understand the meaning of no. I tried explaining the concept of personal space and the need for privacy, but all he said was, “Fuck that bullshit,” giving me a glare sharp enough to shut me up.

Since then, he’s made a habit of sitting on the toilet seat while I shower, asking every few minutes if I’m okay or if I need help. The whole time, I’m haunted by the thought that he might actually walk in and see me naked. Not like he hasn’t seen it before, but still, a woman deserves her privacy.

Sometimes when boredom creeps in, I tell him which books I want, and though he complains, he always ends up fetching them from the library since I'm not allowed to leave my room.

He makes me eat even when I refuse, insisting I need food in my system to stay healthy and not strain my shoulders.

He wasn’t too pleased when I begged him—more like cornered him—into watching a romantic movie with me on his laptop, grumbling curses under his breath the entire time.

Whenever the sexual scenes came on, he’d lean in to kiss me, or rather grab my throat and kiss me, biting my lip every chance he got. Not that I’m complaining.

He can't fucking keep his hands to himself.

Blade takes care of me, and it’s sweet, but it gets annoying when he turns controlling, telling me every move I should make so I don’t hurt my shoulder.

It was honestly funny watching him panic when I fell off the bed. It wasn’t even a hard fall, yet he stressed over it like I broke something.

Blade’s such a sweetheart, though he doesn’t even realize it.

I still don’t get why he calls himself the devil. Sure, he’s ruthless, rude, curses more than Satan, and has no clue what personal space means, but that doesn’t make him the damn devil.

I set my book aside and watch as Blade walks out of the bathroom, a towel hanging low around his hips. His skin glistens from the shower, and he drags his fingers through his damp hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. I quickly wipe the drool from my chin before he notices and pretend to focus on my book again, though it’s impossible to concentrate when a man that hot is standing half-naked in front of me.

My gaze trails down to the faint line of hair leading to what the towel hides. My fingers twitch with the urge to rip it away and take in the full view of the cock I’m aching to taste, to run my tongue over the tip until he’s groaning for more.

"You're seriously giving me a hard on with that look in your eyes. If you don’t stop, I might end up finishing in this damn towel. That’s nasty, baby, and we don’t want that happening now, do we?" My gaze snaps up to his amused face, his lips curling into a teasing smirk as he loosens his grip on the towel.