Singe (Guardian Protection Book 1)

by Aly Martinez

  Later that night, Rhion and I had exchanged a very formal thread of text messages. It was strange. It seemed, for a woman who talked in paragraphs, she typed in single syllables. Yes. No. Fine. I think the longest thing I got from her was, Okay. See you then. She could be as short as she wanted to be though; I wasn’t going to back down.

  Rational thought had died in that stairwell. The moment I’d lost sight of her out the door, I knew I’d follow her. The second I’d seen Johnson standing there, I had known I’d fight for her. And the moment she’d smiled up at me, I had known I’d run a mile through broken glass to keep it aimed at me.

  Long story short: I was fucked.

  I wanted her. And not just with my hands and my mouth—though I couldn’t deny that was part of it. My body came alive for that woman. But, with Rhion, I wanted more. I wanted to know what she’d been up to for the last four years. Was she happy? What was she doing in Chicago? What did she actually do for a living? Why was she so private? Did that night haunt her dreams too? And, most of all, had she thought about me even a fraction of how often I had her over the years?

  On one hand, I was worried that pursuing anything with her was astronomically stupid. On the other hand, I couldn’t stop myself.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… Crap.” Val looked up at me apologetically. “That was probably rude.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her it absolutely was, but Rhion got there first.

  “Nah, it wasn’t rude.” She stepped out of the way and motioned for us to come inside. “If I were ashamed, I’d cover them. But I don’t believe in long-sleeve shirts. I paid way too much money for this ink to hide it.” She shoved a colorful arm in Val’s direction.

  Val dragged a finger down one of the skillfully hidden seams of puckered flesh on Rhion’s forearm.

  The memory slammed into my brain as so many had over the last week. They were soft.

  Not at all like the hard, raised flesh at the back of my head. But, then again, she’d probably worn her compression garments as the doctor had recommended.

  Meanwhile, for the first year, I’d grown my hair out and done anything and everything I could to forget.

  “How’d you get them?” Val asked.

  Rhion’s gaze bounced to mine.

  I shook my head.

  Valerie knew all about my nightmares—probably more than April did. She knew about my Butterfly. But she didn’t know about my failures that had earned us both those scars. And I was nowhere near ready to cop to those in front of the little girl who thought I’d hung the moon.

  “Well…” Rhion started, glancing back down to Val. “A few years ago, I got into a fight with a bear. He was a real jerk who thought he could walk up to my campsite and steal my picnic basket. Clearly, he underestimated how much I like to eat. I walked away with these. But he’s now the world’s first hairless bear. Don’t worry. I gave him the name of my tattoo artist and she inked him on some pants.”

  Her gaze drifted back up to me, a gorgeous grin pulling at her lips, a light dancing in her eyes, which nearly knocked me back a step.

  Fuck. This woman.

  “Nuh-uh,” Val laughed as something weird happened in my chest.

  I wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but it felt as though a single PSI of pressure had been released from inside me. It had been so long since I’d felt even an ounce of relief, and that tiny amount might as well have been a boulder. And all it had taken was an absurd story and a smile to make it happen.

  “You can go put your stuff on the couch. I made some cookies. They’re still warm if you want to grab one out of the kitchen,” Rhion told Val.

  “Awesome,” Val replied, turning to hug my hips before hurrying away.

  Rhion crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her biceps for warmth. Shyly peering up at me through her long, painted-black lashes, she whispered, “Hey.”

  Fuck, shy was cute on her. It was almost better than the flirty and the crazy she’d given me the day before. Almost.

  “Hey,” I returned with a smirk.

  Taking the hint, I stepped in and closed the door.

  Her painted nails toyed with her necklace as though she didn’t know how to act around me. And, truth be told, I wasn’t sure, either. We’d shared something. A lot of somethings, actually. Most of them bad, but in the last week, some of them had been really fucking good. So good that I was willing to risk destroying the only woman I’d ever needed to protect in order to have that good again.

  I hooked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against my chest.

  She came willingly, her hand landing on my abs as she molded around me.

  I looked over the top of her head to see Valerie watching us, a grin coloring her face as she flashed her gaze down to Rhion and then back to me.

  I scowled, but only to keep from grinning back at her.

  “I gotta go, babe,” I mumbled to Rhion as I released her. “But we gotta talk about shit before I do.”

  She sucked in a deep breath and reluctantly stepped away. “Um…what kind of shit?”

  “Well, we actually have a lot of shit to talk about. Predominantly about me being a dick…again. And then again about me not being a dick, and you melting for me the way you seem to do when you aren’t talking a million miles an hour. But, for now, until we can get some time alone later tonight, we need to discuss shit about Valerie.”

  Her hand flew to her necklace. “Tonight?”

  “Did I forget to mention that, when I get back, we’re gonna talk?”

  “Alone? Us?”

  I trailed my fingers down the side of her neck and lowered my voice. “I’m hoping that talk is gonna end with your mouth on mine. So, yeah, Rhion. Alone is probably best.”

  She gaped at me, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “But, first, I have to go to work, listen to four hours of mind-numbing political speeches, and then ensure a senator’s family makes it to the airport on time. So, right now, we need to talk about Valerie so I can get on the road, do my job, then come back and talk to you.”

  She gave me a slow blink and then randomly asked, “Republican or Democrat?”

  I twisted my lips. “Does it matter?”

  “Not really. I’m just wondering what kind of politics you find mind-numbing.”

  I leaned in close and whispered, “All of ’em.”

  “Right.” She bit her lip.

  “So, back to Val… She doesn’t know the city, and I’d feel better if you both stayed here and watched a movie or whatever.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

  “Also, I hate to ask you to do this, but as soon as I leave, I’m gonna be on the phone with her mom. And it’s not going to be a good conversation. I’d appreciate it if you could maybe keep her distracted for a few hours. I’m not sure how this talk is gonna go down, but I don’t put it past April to call and unload her bullshit on Val.”

  Her head snapped back. “Oh God. Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Their relationship is…” I glanced up at Val again.

  This time, she really wasn’t paying attention; rather, she was investigating the photos lining the walls of Rhion’s living room.

  “Strained,” I finished.

  “Well, that sucks. But yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll keep her busy.”

  My lips tipped up as I stared down at her. “Thanks.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  “Be good, Val,” I called out and shot Rhion a wink that made her cheeks pink.

  I needed to go. It was getting late, but I was in no rush to leave her.

  I was, however, in a rush to get gone…so I could get back.

  Val and I were stretched out on either end of my couch. It was nearly seven. Jude would be back soon, but after the day we’d had, I was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to clean up. Plates and cups littered the coffee table while shopping bags covered the floor. Makeup of every shade and color lined the top of my counter, and the cords to professional-grade curl
ing irons dangled over the side.

  “Is Jude a neat freak?” I asked Val.

  She laughed. “Neat? No. But he’s a weirdo about the refrigerator. It used to drive him crazy when Mom would leave leftovers in there for too long.”

  I must have asked Val a million questions about Jude throughout the day. So much so that, eventually, I didn’t even have to ask anymore. She was offering it up. It was obvious Val loved her stepfather; her face would light any time she talked about him. It only served as further truth that my Jude was real. An idea that warmed me immeasurably.

  “Can I ask you something?” Val said, swinging her legs around so she was sitting up.

  I lifted my head off the padded armrest. “Of course.”

  “How’d you really get the scars?”

  Uh oh. Jude had given me the macho headshake when she’d asked about them earlier. I had only a few minutes before he got back. No way was I pissing him off before our talk.

  I smiled warmly. “Maybe you should talk to Jude when he gets here.”

  “They’re burns, aren’t they?”

  My shoulders got tight. Damn it, she was smart. This was not going to work in my favor.

  Sitting up, I took her hand. “Seriously, he’ll be here any minute.”

  “You’re Butterfly,” she whispered. “Aren’t you?”

  I sucked in a sharp breath and my stomach knotted.

  “You are,” she breathed, scooting over.

  “Um…it depends. If I was, would that be a good thing or bad thing?” I asked nervously.

  She smiled. “I think, for Jude, it’s a really good thing. Maybe he’ll finally be able to sleep.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, but a knock on the door pulled us both out of the conversation.

  Val laughed knowingly as I sprang to my feet and smoothed my little black dress down. Like the rest of my outfit, it was new. In my defense, I couldn’t just talk to Jude in jeans and a T-shirt. If I wanted more of him, it was time to up the ante. And let’s be honest—a backless little black dress with a high neckline, cap sleeves, and a pleated skirt definitely couldn’t hurt.

  “Don’t forget your shoes,” Val reminded me.

  “Right.” I nodded swiftly, sliding on the kickass red-and-black-swirled heels we’d bought earlier that afternoon.

  It should be noted that Val had amazing taste. She’d originally picked the shoes out for herself, but I didn’t figure it would win me any babysitting awards with Jude if he showed back up and his eleven-year-old was wearing a pair of stilettos. Thankfully, it didn’t take much convincing to get Val to settle for a pair of red Chuck Taylors.

  Yeah, I wasn’t the only one who had gotten new threads.

  After I’d listened to Val tell me all about her mom, it was clear we could both stand a little retail therapy. Between the two of us, we’d picked the racks bare. Val’s outfit consisted of a pair of tattered, black skinny jeans that hugged her curves, a black long-sleeve, fitted top, and a red down vest. It was sporty and feminine, and she looked so freaking adorable that I wanted to shrink her down and put her in my pocket. Instead, we’d had our hair and makeup done and then taken a million selfies.

  I did a twirl. “Do I look okay?”

  She smiled, lifted her hand to the perfectly shaped curls brushing the top of her shoulder, and ordered, “Scrunch your hair. It will give you more volume.”

  I nodded and followed her example. It wasn’t often I wore my naturally straight hair in curls, but after seeing how amazing Val’s had looked when the stylist had finished, I’d decided to give it a try. It was no contest—hers were better. But I couldn’t complain about my end results. The red tips on my chunky ringlets made for the perfect accent against the black of my dress.

  She grinned. “You look great. Jude is going to die.”

  “I don’t want him to die. A little heart trouble, maybe. But I definitely need him alive.”

  She giggled as another knock at the door got my feet moving. With one last glance over my shoulder at her beaming smile, I sucked in a deep breath and yanked it open.

  But it wasn’t Jude.

  “Don’t just stand there, child. Invite me in. It’s freezing out here,” Margaret Spencer, my ex-stepmother, snapped haughtily.

  She was not standing on my doorstep.

  No fucking way.

  Only she was. In the taut, surgically enhanced flesh. On my doorstep.

  She knew I wouldn’t be inviting her in, which was why, as I attempted to slam the door in her face, she slid her elegant, slipper-clad foot over the threshold. “Damn it, Rhion. Stop being a brat,” she cursed, attempting to cram her upper body through the narrow opening.

  “Rhion?” Val called, concern thick in her voice.

  Struggling with the door, I did my best to keep my voice even as I said, “It’s okay, sweetie. Why don’t you go watch TV in the ocean room for a few minutes?”

  “W-what’s going on?” she stammered.

  I glanced over my shoulder and found her staring in shock at the right half of an old lady flailing as she tried to get into my apartment.

  It probably wasn’t the best way to teach a child to respect their elders, but I suspected that Margaret wasn’t there to show anyone respect, either. Especially since I’d managed to keep my whereabouts from the Wicked Witch private for over two years. And, while Katie knew where I lived, she’d never rat me out.

  With a hard shove that did not bode well for the staff at whichever nursing home I’d more than likely end up paying for, Margaret managed to knock me back.

  I stumbled and my heel slipped, which sent me down to my ass.

  “Rhion!” Val yelled, dashing toward me.

  “It’s okay. I’m okay,” I assured, taking her hand and allowing her to help me back to my feet.

  She looked panicked, so I threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against my front.

  Margaret swung the door open wide and walked in, answering the age-old debate about whether vampires needed to be invited inside a personal residence.

  “For the love of God, child, why must you always be so dramatic?” she scolded, shrugging off her long herringbone coat, revealing a charcoal-gray sheath dress that I hated to admit looked nice on her.

  She was older and wafer-thin, but Margaret had always been beautiful. It was how she’d caught the eye of my father. Though how she’d convinced him to marry her would forever be a mystery. Even with her high cheekbones and her incredible hair, the woman was a hideous monster on the inside.

  Her gaze raked over me, and her lip curled in disgust. “Why must you ruin your body with those dreadful tattoos? A nice sweater would go a long way in covering those scars without making you look like a streetwalker.”

  Who actually said streetwalker? I made a note to anonymously mail her a thesaurus.

  I rolled my eyes. “Why are you here?”

  Her gaze slid to Val. “Care to introduce me to your friend?”

  Nope. No fucking way.

  I’d learned over the course of the day that Val’s relationship with her mother wasn’t just strained—it was one straw away from breaking. From what she’d said, it sounded like April was a bitch to the nth degree. However, I was certain she didn’t hold a candle to Margaret Spencer. And, if that woman said one nasty word to Val, I’d end up in jail.

  I guided Val behind me. “Answer me. Why are you here?”

  She shrugged and bent at the knees to pick up one of the shopping bags. As she thoroughly inspected the contents, she replied, “I was in the area.”

  I snatched the bag from her hand. “You live in New York.”

  She scoffed as she glided across the room to pick up another bag. “What? Am I not allowed to visit my stepdaughter?”

  “Former stepdaughter,” I corrected while ushering Val to the couch. Lowering my voice, I tried to ease Val with a joke. “Don’t look her directly in the eye or you might turn to stone.”

  A small smile pulled at her lips, and relief fi
ltered through me.

  “Where’s Katie?” I asked Margaret while walking to the door to search the breezeway.

  “How am I supposed to know?”

  I turned to face her, the cold air nipping at my back, but I refused to close it for fear she’d take it as an invitation to stay.

  “Um…” I started sarcastically. “Because, while I do believe you hold mythical powers of evil, you need a keycard to even get up the elevator. One that I know Katie has. So I’ll ask again: Where is she?”

  She dropped the shopping bag to the ground before moving to the next one. “Oh, please, Rhion. Unlike some people I know, Katie has a social life. She’s out doing whatever a young lady of her social standing does on a Saturday night while visiting a new city.”

  Knowing Katie, she’d put a gorgeous gown on to make her mother happy and then changed into a skimpy skirt and top in the bathroom of whatever nightclub she’d be partying at that night. Some things never changed.

  “Right,” I laughed. “Well, thanks for stopping by, but I’m going to need my key back, and then I’m going to need you to get on your broom and fly away.” I sliced a hand through the air toward the door.

  A sinister smile grew on her lips as she crossed her wiry arms over her chest. Tipping her chin toward the shopping bags, she said, “I thought you didn’t have the money anymore.”

  “I don’t,” I replied unnecessarily. “I finished a new book,” I added even more unnecessarily.

  It was none of her business what my bank account read or how I got the money. The only thing she needed to know was that I no longer controlled my father’s fortune. A fact Pete and I had made abundantly clear over the last few years.

  “Rhion, honey,” she purred in a condescending tone. “You expect me to believe your silly little hobby paid for those Louis Vuittons?” She took a step toward me, her gaze pointedly flashing down to my heels.

  I squared my shoulders and retorted, “I don’t expect you to believe anything, but I do expect you to get the hell out of my apartment.”

  Her grin grew pompous. “You still have the money.” It wasn’t a question. Or an accusation. It was breathed in utter elation.

  I swear I saw the green of dollar signs flash in her honey-brown eyes.