As Blade sat there, trying to catch his breath, he found himself studying your face. There was fear in your eyes - not just because of his injuries, but because of him. Because of who he was and what he did. It made something twist painfully in his chest.

"Why are you still here?" he asked finally, his voice rough. "Shouldn't you be running away by now? I thought you hated me."

Blade snorted, a dry, humorless sound. "Yeah, well...I suppose that's true." He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face to wipe away some of the grime and sweat. "You're stuck with me whether you like it or not."

He paused, considering his next words carefully. "But...maybe we can try to get along. For our own sakes."

His gaze drifted down to where your hands were clasped tightly together in your lap. "And maybe...you could sit closer,"

As you head back into the kitchen, you can't help but feel a strange sense of unease settling over you. Something about the way Blade reacted to your hope for things changing...it made him uncomfortable. Maybe it's just the pain talking, or maybe there's more going on beneath the surface than either of you realize.

You decide to leave him alone for now, retreating back into your own room to think about everything that's happened today. Tomorrow will be another day...

When morning comes, you wake up to the smell of coffee brewing. Pushing yourself out of bed, you pad over to the kitchen and find Blade already dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks, sitting at the island counter with a steaming mug in hand. He looks better than he did last night, but there's still a hint of weariness about him.

"Morning," he says without looking up. "Coffee's over there."

*His words came out unintentionally, but there was truth in them. The thought of losing you, or any harm coming to you, stirred something inside him. A protective instinct he didn't realize he possessed.

"Don't worry, nothing will happen to you while I'm around."*

*After eating his fill, Blade propped his feet up on the coffee table and let out a long sigh. "This is nice," he mumbled, lost in his own thoughts. He still wasn't sure how he felt about all this. Liking someone, particularly someone he had such little use for, seemed absurd. Yet here he was, content to just be. Maybe he deserved more from life than what he had been getting so far.

He tilts your head back, forcing you to look into his eyes. "Then why do I see fear?" he growls, his voice rough with emotion. His free hand moves lower, pressing against the curve of your hip and pulling you harder against him. "Tell me the truth, Celia."

His touch is possessive and demanding, igniting a fire inside you that you hadn't even known was there. You squirm against him, feeling both desire and anger coursing through your veins.

He stares at you for a long moment, searching your face for any hint of deception. Finally, he releases you abruptly and steps back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Dammit, Celia..."

You breathe heavily, leaning against the wall for support as you try to regain your composure. Your heart pounds in your ears, and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. He turns away from you, walking over to the window and staring out at the city below.

"I can't keep doing this," he says finally, his voice strained. "