I could easily end up at a loss. Run really fast wasn’t always a solution, either, and I had two years in prison as proof of that. It would have been a lifetime if other people’s bad luck hadn’t turned into my good fortune.
Shade could obviously be as big a bruiser as his punching bag, but I wasn’t worried about him using his strength against me. My thoughts just kept veering off in other directions—like how much safer every day might feel with him watching my back.
I blinked hard. Stop it.
Self-chiding wasn’t very effective, but it was a start. A modicum of effort on my part to stay reasonable and on track. I would be leaving soon, and mine were ridiculous thoughts.
Shade nodded for me to start. “Show me some of what you’ve got, and then we’ll take it from there.”
A giddy fizz of emotions effervesced inside me again. I couldn’t help stupidly loving any interaction with Shade, even though physically, I still felt like a slug. I did my best to put on a good show and started circling him, looking for an opening. He kept his guard up, watching me. I threw the first punch, and Shade dodged. I tried again.
“You’re transparent as hell. Try not to turn into the punch three hours before you throw it,” he said.
“Three hours?” I grumbled, circling again.
He winked. “Just a tip, sugar.”
I narrowed my eyes.
He moved in, and I danced back. His first punch was so half-assed that I easily stopped it with my glove. A few seconds later, I aimed a kick at his ribs. His hand swept down to block my foot, and his solid forearm sent me hopping back, off-balance.
Shade arched his brows.
Shit. I was making a fool of myself.
He came at me again like he almost meant it, throwing a punch that had me rearing back. I got out of the way in time, and his hit didn’t connect, although I was starting to wonder if he would have let it. Even so, the next thing I knew, my butt hit the mat. Impact jarred a grunt out of me. I’d fallen over, and Shade hadn’t even touched me.
“Tess?” He looked down at me, his eyebrows drawing into a frown.
I blinked. There were two of him. I blinked again. Okay—one.
I decided to admit the truth. “I may not be up for this tonight.”
He scowled. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I…” I was too tired to think up a good lie. “I gave blood before coming here. I may have given too much.”
“How much?” he asked.
“Five bags.”
“Five bags!” Shade exploded toward me, dropping to his knees on the mat. “Are you crazy?” He tore off his gloves and then picked me up. I looped my arms around his neck as the room tilted. He carried me like I was small—and I was not. I closed my eyes, willing the spinning to stop.
He walked a few steps and then shifted his hold on me. I heard him jiggle a door handle. When I opened my eyes again, he was taking me down a softly lit corridor. I caught flashes of other rooms, but then he turned right, and I found myself being set down on a bed. His bed, I supposed. It was nice. Soft. The bedding was dark brown and slightly textured under my hands and bare feet.
I took stock of the room, which was pretty empty. I could smell Shade in here—or rather the soap he used. There was something fresh about it, like a forest, or the outdoors. I wasn’t quite sure. I didn’t know much about that.
I smoothed my foot over the comforter, liking its velvety feel. The bed wasn’t huge, but it seemed just right for two people. I’d wanted to get here, though not exactly like this.
I glanced up at Shade. The only light we had came through the open door, and his expression looked dark and almost dangerous in the dimness. He leaned over me, and I sat there as he pulled off my gloves, freeing one hand and then the other with a muttered curse. Straightening away from me, he threw the pair of gloves across the room like he was pretty pissed off.
“One bag. You give one—if you give at all. Who would take that much? Where the fuck did you go? Some black-market clinic?” He scrubbed a hand down his face, exhaling loudly. “Shit. You’re not selling your insides to pay for my repairs, are you?”