Singe (Guardian Protection #1)

He was the only thing that kept me alive.

And then, seconds later, he was literally the only thing that kept me alive.

The ground rumbled beneath me as a deafening creak came from inside the angry house.

He swung his gaze over his shoulder. “Fuck,” he cursed, his eyes growing wide in horror.

Fear surged through me, momentarily pushing the pain into the background. I didn’t have a chance to see what was happening before he was gathering me in his arms. My stomach lurched and a strangled cry escaped my throat as he jostled me.

I hadn’t made it all the way off the ground before he dropped me back down. Pain exploded within me as the heavy weight of his body landed on top of me.

“Oh God!” I cried out, my vision blurring.

The rumble became louder.

“Brace,” he ordered, palming the back of my head and tucking my face into his neck.

My mind swirled, fading in and out of the welcome darkness. Through the smoke clinging to his skin, I caught a whiff of his cologne, and for reasons I would never understand, it eased the panic brewing within me.

He was real.

He was there.

Saving me.

But, as the house collapsed to the ground, sending a wall of brick falling our way, I feared one of us was going to disappear, and worst of all, I worried it would be him.



“Jude!” I gasped as my eyes popped open. The lights from the busy city below illuminated my otherwise dark bedroom.

I was at home.

Not at the fire.

I shook my head, trying to rattle off the hold my memories had over me.

There was a pair of green eyes I couldn’t shake. They weren’t a memory—at least not an old one.

He’d been there. At the bar. His hair had been longer and his skin now carried a golden tan, but it was still him, just as beautiful and strong as I’d remembered.

But that was exactly the problem. He didn’t belong in that bar.

Jude Levitt was only real in my dreams.

A broken ray of light from the hallway streamed in as the door cracked open.

“Jude?” I called, scrambling off the edge of my bed, hope blossoming within me.

“It’s me, Rhion,” Johnson said gently, his large silhouette filling the opening as he pushed my door wide.

My shoulders sagged in disappointment only to stiffen as the memory hit me.

“Apollo,” I breathed, sinking down to the bed. “He was there too.”

“I know. I saw him.”

Anxiety climbed in my chest. “He…he’s never come that close.”

“And he won’t again,” he stated definitively.

If I knew anything about Aidan Johnson, it was that he’d make sure of that or he’d die trying. We’d grown up together. Well, more accurately, I’d grown up. Johnson had been twenty-five and very much a man when he’d starting working for my father. I’d never forget the day I got my first eyeful of Dad’s new tall, dark, and mysterious bodyguard. For a sixteen-year-old girl, Johnson was what fantasies were made of—and boy, did I dream about him. Actually, my entire softball team and I dreamed about him. Though, as I got older, our relationship evolved into something else. That something being that he was the only man on Earth I trusted completely.

I hung my head and rubbed my temples as the night filtered through my mind. I had thought my heart would explode the moment I’d heard Jude call me Butterfly. Chills had broken out on my skin and a shiver had traveled down my spine.

But it was the icy-blue gaze that matched my own that had sent me running.

Why, of all nights, had my brother chosen that one to make an approach?

The one man I’d been dreaming of had finally shown up and Apollo had ruined it as though he’d known how badly it would hurt me. And let’s be honest. This was Apollo; he might have. Destroying me was his life’s mission.

“He can’t hurt you, Rhion.”

It was something Johnson said a lot. I wore the scars to argue otherwise.

“I don’t want to talk about him.” I never did. I couldn’t forget Apollo, but that didn’t mean he had to be the subject of discussion.

He sighed and walked into the room. The bed dipped as he sat beside me. “I’m not gonna fill your head with bullshit. You definitely could have reacted better tonight. You had four men surrounding you. Apollo could have brought an army and he still wouldn’t have been able to touch you.” He bumped his shoulder with mine. “But we’ll get there.”

I groaned then repeated sarcastically, “Yeah. We’ll get there.”

“We will,” he promised.

I offered him a tight smile then collapsed backwards on the bed. “What was Jude doing there?”

He lowered his bulky body back beside me. “He’s Leo’s new guy.”

My mouth gaped open as I slowly turned my head to face him. “No way.”

He chuckled and folded his arm behind his head. “I was gonna warn you tonight. I’d have told you sooner, but you were locked up tight in your writing cave.”

I rolled to my side and propped myself up on an elbow. “I appreciate you respecting my privacy when I’m working, but you could have interrupted me for that kind of news.”

His lips twitched as he fought a grin back. “Yeah, well. I was hoping he wouldn’t hang around long enough for me to have to tell you.”

I knew that grin all too well.

Cocking an eyebrow, I accused, “What did you do?”

He laughed and sat up. “Let’s just say he won’t be sexually harassing anyone any time soon.”

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but chances were, with Johnson, I didn’t want to know. And I really shouldn’t have wanted to know when it came to Jude Levitt.

Except I did.

I wanted to know everything about that man. There hadn’t been a day in over four years that I hadn’t thought about him.

It had been the deep timbre of Jude’s voice reminding me that it was almost over that rang in my ears as I’d cried out while the nurses changed my bandages. He might have been the only thing that had gotten me through those first few weeks.

It was the memory of his calming, green eyes I focused on as yet another agonizing skin graft took the slow path to healing. And, with over twenty-seven percent of my body covered in burns, it was safe to say I spent a lot time with Jude’s eyes those first few months.

Every time I pulled my compression garments on, I imagined they were his arms holding me tight. And, for nearly twenty-three hours, every day for over a year, I pretended Jude held me safely in his arms.

And, when it was all said and done, dense scars covering both of my arms, it was his reassuring words that kept me from spiraling into a deep depression.

Jude Levitt was why I’d picked up the proverbial pen and started writing.

Because of him, I didn’t have to live in a fairytale to know that heroes were real.

I winced and bit my bottom lip, drawing up all the courage I could muster to ask the one question I wasn’t sure I’d survive the answer to. “Does he hate me?”

Johnson’s hand landed on my back, and I braced for his response.

“Not at all,” he rasped.

My hopeful gaze jumped to his to find him watching me with that same gentle understanding that had bonded us from the start.