Singe (Guardian Protection #1)

It came back in a rush. But none of the memories were complete. I only caught the tiniest bits and pieces.

Pale-blue eyes barely peeking through a cracked door. My mind sloshed as I stood up, dread settling in my stomach.

Fiery-red-and-blond hair brushing against shoulders as she led me inside. I shook my head while I tugged my shirt and my shoes on.

My index finger tracing the intricate tattoos covering her shoulders. Pressure built in my chest when I reached the door and slowly twisted the doorknob.

Her back flush against my chest as I stared down at the delicate curve of her neck. I swallowed around the lump in my throat and sent up prayers to every god in the universe that I was wrong.

Maybe this was another nightmare. That’s where she usually found me.

But, as I opened the door and caught sight of her sitting on the ground, her knees tucked to her chest, her colorful arms wrapped around her legs, and her eyes aimed up at me, I knew there would be no waking up from this one.

“Hey,” she whispered, scrambling to her feet.

Scrubbing my hand over the scruff on my jaw, I muttered a cursed, “Jesus Christ.”

She toyed with the ends of her hair, and like a shock of electricity, a mental souvenir from the night before assaulted me. Her hair smells like coconut.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably and then rushed out, “Um…so, good morning. Can I get you some coffee, breakfast, toothbrush, memory eraser, anything?”

I cringed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’ll take the memory eraser with a side of coffee.”

“Excellent choice,” she mumbled under her breath before taking off at a speed just under a sprint.

Mentally chastising myself, I followed after her. The narrow hallway opened up to a living-room-kitchen combination. It might as well have screamed money for as nice as everything appeared. Two tan couches with carved wooden legs, covered in countless throw pillows of all colors and patterns, sectioned the living room off, while a long, chocolate-and-taupe-veined granite counter served as a barrier for a kitchen with stainless-steel appliances lining the wall. It looked a lot like Guardian, but it felt oddly familiar in a different way.

Confused, I asked, “Are we at the beach?”

Her head snapped up while she was filling two mugs with coffee. “The beach?”

I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “That room. Seemed…I don’t know, beachy.”

She stared at me blankly for several beats. “You said you loved the beach.”

I awkwardly scratched the back of my head. “Okay. So we talked last night. Good to know.”

Her body jerked and her face paled as she gasped, “You don’t remember?”

Dear God. I was seriously an asshole. “I’m sorry.”

Her back shot ramrod straight, and something strange—and surprisingly painful—sifted through her features. “Nothing?”

Oh, I remembered a few things. All of which I wished I could forget.

“Any chance you could fill me in?” I asked.

She quickly turned away to put the coffee pot down, her shoulders hunched over in defeat.

And then she lied to me. Plain as day.

“You’re not missing much. You showed up drunk. I was half-asleep. I put you to bed. Went to bed myself. Now, we’re drinking coffee.”

I opened my mouth to apologize only to clamp it shut when she continued to talk.

“That was my ocean room you were in. When I moved to Chicago a few years ago, I missed the beach. So I had a guy come in and set it up. It has special lighting to mimic the afternoon sun, a scent-infused humidifier installed in the wall, and a strategically placed surround-sound system to add the natural echo of the waves.” She turned back to face me. “I turned that off when I heard you snoring. I hope that’s okay. It’s really loud in the room next door, which happens to be my bedroom.”

Her whole body turned solid, and her face slid through three different shades of red. “I mean, not that you needed to know where my bedroom is or anything. Well, I mean, unless you want to take a bath. I have an amazing jetted tub in my bathroom. The other two only have showers. The showers are really nice though. I had the contractor add these kickass showerheads. It’s quite the experience. You should give it a try. Oh, that reminds me. I laid out an extra toothbrush in the bathroom.” She paused only long enough to suck in a huge gasp of air. “The bathroom in the hall—you know, with the shower, not mine… You know, with the tub. Anyway—”

When it became abundantly clear the woman had no intention of stopping, I attempted to wade in. “Rhion,” I called, stepping toward her.

“I also put a hairbrush in there. You know, for your hair. Which I have to say is really nice. It looks good on you. Not all guys can pull that off. It’s the perfect mix of bad-boy and clean-cut.” She squinted her eyes closed as embarrassment contorted her face. “Not that I’m saying you’re either of those things. I wasn’t checking you out or anything.”

I took another step in her direction, making yet another attempt to cut her off. “Rhion.”

Her nose crinkled adorably, and she began worrying with the diamond hanging from a silver chain around her neck. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re a handsome man. I just—”

“Rhion,” I repeated, closing the final few steps between us.

“I can’t stop talking!” she exclaimed a second before she ducked around me and burst into tears.





The knock on the door startled me awake. My upper body was on fire, but not the kind that could be extinguished. The doctors had tried, but there wasn’t a medicine in the world strong enough to ease the pain. For a full week, it had been excruciating. And, from what the nurses had told me, it was going to be a while longer before it finally started to fade.

The knock came again. I lifted my head off the pillow and glanced around the room, finding it surprisingly empty. Katie and Pete had been fixtures at my bedside since they’d arrived in town.

“Come in!” I called out in a scratchy voice. It was no doubt another doctor or nurse coming to torture me under the guise of help. My body tensed in anticipation.

“Rhion?” His voice filtered into the room, causing my heart to stop beating just before it went into overdrive.

I froze, my emotions stuck somewhere between shock, dread, and exhilaration.

He’d come.

I’d been hoping he would—almost as much as I’d hoped he wouldn’t.

I’d been dying to see him, but I lay in a hospital bed, my arms spread out at my sides, third-degree burns covering nearly every inch. That was not how I wanted him to see me.