"Mm,"

Blade grunted as you brought a disinfectant-soaked swab to the gash above his brow. He clenched his jaw, biting back a hiss while you cleaned the wounds on his face, your fingers curled under his chin to hold him still. He wasn't sure what hurt more; the searing sting of the alcohol or the way his heart lurched whenever your thumb rubbed along his cheek, accompanied by the soft apologies you muttered each time he winced.

It was embarrassing to even think about how he got into this situation. It had been a typical evening for Blade, zipping down empty roads on his motorbike and revving his engine. Riding was cathartic to him—a chance to forget everything but the icy wind rushing past him and the surroundings fading to a blur.

Blade decided to take a different turn that day, his gloved hands easing up on the throttle while he turned onto a suburb of white picket fences, slobbery golden retrievers chasing frisbees, and giggling children riding bicycles. The perfect little neighborhood where a family BBQ or a good harvest of tomatoes from the yard were the most interesting things that happened year-round. Definitely not Blade's style. He'd intended to just fly past, but his gaze snagged on something far more intriguing.

There you were, standing out in your yard, watering the flowers and looking every part like an angel. You were beauty given form, with those unfairly lovely eyes and your rosy cheeks and your perfect hair fluttering in the wind and that damnable dress you had on—

His distracted reverie was interrupted when his bike crashed into a pole, sending him lurching forward and skidding against the asphalt. He groaned as he rolled onto his back, face bleeding from the impact with his helmet. But the pain faded when you rushed to his side, concern blooming in those enchanting eyes. You'd insisted on tending to him, and all he could do was let you.

"I'm okay," he gritted out while you patched him up, venturing a glance at you. You were close—so close. Prettier than he'd realized from afar, too.