Page 23 of Bound to the Bodyguard

As the night slowly turned into the early hours of the morning, I found myself unable to shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. The text message, the silent threat it carried, it was all too real. I tossed and turned in bed.

Despite the circumstances that brought us together, there was a connection between us that went beyond words. As much as I wanted to act on them, I didn’t want to cross that boundary. Raven meant to much to me growing up to ever do something that would make her uncomfortable. Right now, she had too much going on. If the situation diffused, then I would jump at the chance to be with her. A chance with the girl I had my first crush on all the way through high school.

Steeling myself, I rose from bed and made my way to the balcony, the cool night air offering a brief respite from the suffocating weight of uncertainty pressing down on me.

Did Raven even think of me in that way? I didn’t want her feelings to be hindered because of my protection. There was a thing called trauma love where you bond with the person who you had shared a trauma with, and since I’d be around since almost the beginning, I’d be that for her.

As I stood on the balcony, gazing out at the skyline glittering under the moonlight, a sudden noise from Raven’s room snapped me out of my reverie. It wasn’t her snores that had woken me; it was a soft, muffled sound coming from inside her bedroom. Instantly alert, I moved swiftly back into the apartment and approached her door cautiously.

Pushing it open with a gentle touch, I saw Raven tossing and turning in her sleep. She seemed restless, trapped in the clutches of a nightmare that only she could see. Without a second thought, I stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, trying to ease her subconscious turmoil.

“Raven, wake up,” I murmured softly, my voice breaking through the chaos of her dreams. Her eyes fluttered open, wide with fear and confusion, before recognition dawned in them.

“Jerome?” she whispered, her voice trembling with vulnerability. “I... I had the same dream again.”

I settled on the edge of her bed, my presence a reassuring anchor in the storm of her fears. “Tell me about it,” I urged gently, knowing that sometimes voicing the terror lurking within our minds could lessen its grip on us.

Her story spilled out in hushed tones, painting a vivid picture of her darkest fears and insecurities. As she spoke, I felt a surge of protectiveness welling up inside me, an unspoken vow forming in the depths of my being to shield her from any harm that dared to threaten her peace. Drawing her into a comforting embrace, I whispered words of solace and reassurance.

“I’ve got you, Raven. You’re safe with me,” I assured her, my voice a steady anchor in the midst of her turmoil. Her fragile frame trembled in my arms, seeking solace and protection from the demons that haunted her dreams.

As the night stretched on, I stayed by her side, my presence a silent shield warding off the shadows that lingered at the edges of her consciousness.

Despite the weight of responsibility that lay heavy on my shoulders, in that quiet moment with Raven in my arms, everything else faded into insignificance. The only thing that mattered was her well-being, her peace of mind.

As the first light of dawn came through the curtains, the lines of worry etched on her face smoothed out, and for a fleeting moment, she looked like a carefree woman. It was then that I went back to my room, knowing she would be up at any time to her alarm and want to attempt to go on her morning run.

Chapter 15

Raven

Steam rose in gentle spirals as I lifted myself from the water, droplets cascading down my skin like the remnants of a storm. I reached for the plush towel, the fabric a soft kiss against my dampness, enveloping me in its comforting embrace. The warmth of the bathroom, a cocoon of heated tiles and misted mirrors, clung to me, warding off the morning chill that threatened just beyond its borders.

Another day. My inner voice, ever-present, reminded me of the challenges that awaited. You can’t let your guard down, not even for a moment.

Padding across the tiled floor, I entered the bedroom, where dawn’s light played peekaboo through the curtains. The sun, an unwitting accomplice, danced over the room’s furnishings. My gaze settled on the bed. An unmade canvas of crumpled sheets and memories of restless nights spent more with thoughts than dreams.

Peaceful... for now. But peace was a luxury, and I knew better than to indulge too deeply. Stay focused, stay alert.

I moved with purpose, each step towards the window deliberate, my muscles remembering the tension that had become a constant companion.

Today, you’re just a runner, Raven. The facade of normalcy while she put on her running gear. Just a runner.

I approached my closet, a fortress of order amidst the chaos that had become my life. With a discerning eye, I scanned the neatly arranged rows of athletic wear, fingertips brushing against moisture-wicking fabrics and compression garments, each piece a testament to my disciplined routine. The soft material whispered promises of comfort for the miles ahead, but it was the security disguised in the mundane that I sought most.

“Control,” I whispered, plucking a pair of black leggings from a hanger. “Just another mile to run, another day to outpace the shadows.”

I laid the selected gear on my bed—a vibrant sports bra and a lightweight tank top alongside the leggings—and began to shed the towel, embracing the chill that momentarily kissed my skin.

“Focus on the rhythm of your feet, the beating of your heart.” I coached, slipping one leg into the leggings. “Let the world blur around you until—”

The door creaked open, slicing through my reverie like a knife through silk. Jerome stood there, his silhouette framed by the doorway, his posture radiating an unwavering strength that seemed almost tangible.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice a smooth baritone that filled the space between us, until his eyes raked me in. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

I straightened up, the leggings now secure around my waist. I arched an eyebrow at him, a silent challenge to his unexpected presence. “Timing is everything, Jerome, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Indeed,” he conceded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But then again, unpredictability can be an asset in our line of work.”

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