Singe (Guardian Protection #1)

Yet there he was.

A family of hummingbirds took up residence in my stomach as his tall body emerged. My breath hitched as I raked my gaze over his muscular frame. The outline of his chiseled chest showed through the straining fabric of his plain, black T-shirt while a pair of dark washed denim hugged his tapered waist. His dark-blond hair had been shaved and large, rectangular bandages covered the back of his head and his neck, but he was still gorgeous. I shyly swept my gaze to the other side of the room. I couldn’t imagine what I looked like after a week of sitting in a hospital bed. Not that it really mattered. Judging by the burns on my arms and my chest, the days when vanity had any place in my life were officially over. But, deep down, I still cared.

“Rhion,” he said softly, drawing my attention back to him.

My vision swam as our gazes locked.

What do you say to the man who saved your life? The man who literally pulled you from the hands of death. The man who protected you with no regard for his own safety. The man who now wore the scars from the most frightening moment of your entire life.

My first words to him should have been some variation of “thank you” laced with profuse gratitude, but as I stared into his emerald-green gaze, which had soothed me when my entire world had been burning down around me, I only managed to get two words out.

“You’re real,” I whispered.

His eyes flashed wide, but a sexy grin pulled at the corners of his full lips. “So are you, my beautiful Butterfly.”

I shyly glanced at the bed and allowed myself to smile for what felt like the very first time.



“Rhion, wait!” He caught my arm before I could make my getaway.

And, God, if I’d ever needed to make a getaway, that was the moment.

This can’t be happening.

I’d spilled my deepest, darkest secrets to the only man I’d ever wanted to share them with.

And he’d woken up thinking he was at the beach.

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, but the searing pain still tore through me.

I’d expected awkward when he woke up. For God’s sake, he’d passed out in the middle of some pretty hot, heavy action. But never, not once, had I considered he wouldn’t remember.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out, doing my best to wipe my tears off on the shoulder of my shirt. “I’m not always a basket case, I swear. It’s just…”

I couldn’t finish that thought. Well, at least not out loud.

It’s just you’re Jude.

I didn’t tell him that.

And, in that moment, as he stared back at me, clearly horrified to have woken up in my apartment and even more horrified by what memories he’d retained, I’d wished I hadn’t told Jude a lot of things.

But, I guessed, the good news was that he didn’t remember any of them.

Only it didn’t feel like good news.

It felt like a sledgehammer to the heart.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out again.

“Hey. Hey. Hey. Stop.” He released my arm, slid his hand up to the back of my neck, and forced my gaze all the way up to his. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should be apologizing. Christ, Rhion. I don’t even remember how I got here.”

My breathing shuttered as his fingers flexed on the back of my neck, a chill radiating down my spine.

I hypnotically stared up at him and stuttered, “You…you said you took a cab.”

His eyes flashed dark and his intense gaze became tangible. Like a feather, it swept down my throat and over to my shoulder, completely unnerving me.

Well, more than I was already unnerved. Which was a hell of a lot, considering that it was Jude and he was currently standing in my apartment with little to no memory of the night before, while I would never be able to forget it.

“I had too much to drink,” he stated.

“I gathered that,” I replied while watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.

For several seconds, neither of us moved. He scanned my face as if he were searching for something. And then his eyebrows pinched together and his face contorted into a picture of confusion.

Beautiful, beautiful confusion.

“Why does your hair smell like coconut?” he rasped.

“My shampoo,” I replied breathily.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. I mean why do I know you smell like coconut?”

Because, when you showed up at my door at four a.m., I wasn’t able to get a single word out before you yanked me into your arms and slurred unintelligible apologies into the top of my hair.

However, that was not a night I was willing to relive any time soon. It had been hard enough to keep my shit together when I’d confessed four years’ worth of guilt and secrets to him the night before. And that’s assuming that I could consider “keeping my shit together” stripping his shirt off and throwing myself at him until he eventually passed out beneath me.

No. Evade was the word of the day until I had time to regroup, reorganize, and rethink—my entire life.

“I’m… Well, I’m not really sure,” I lied.

My attention fell to his perfect lips as they thinned into a grimace.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he asked, “Look. Did…I do anything…inappropriate last night?”

Oh. My. God.

Inappropriate? No. It was all very, very appropriate. And not nearly enough for the things I wanted to do to him. The same things I had told him about in great detail.

Suddenly, the last thing I wanted was for Jude to remember—anything.

I twisted my lips and stared off into the distance. “Not that I can think of. Why do you ask?”

His cheeks puffed as he blew out a sigh of relief. “I’m getting these little snippets from last night. And…” He stopped talking and wrenched his eyes shut. “You know what… I should go.”

Yes, you should. That’s what my mind screamed, anyway. Only, when I opened my mouth, that wasn’t at all what came out.

“No, wait! Please don’t go. You haven’t had your coffee. And, without that, I can’t get the memory eraser into your bloodstream.” Note to self: Find out if that shit is real. “That was a joke,” I announced. “Well, not the ‘don’t go’ part. I meant that. But the whole bloodstream thing. I’m not planning to poison you or anything.”

His eyebrows shot up, and for a second, I swear it looked like he was fighting a laugh back. “Good to know.”

“I have a really awkward sense of humor sometimes.” I rocked up onto my toes and then back onto my heels. “Especially when I’m nervous.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed he’d cocked an eyebrow at me. It was only out of the corner of my eye because my gaze was trained on his tan bicep flexing as he gripped the back of his neck.

When he caught me staring, I carried on with the word vomit. “Not that you make me nervous or anything. I’m sure you’re—”

“Rhion,” he started.