Page 1 of The Bodyguard and the Alpha
Chapter 1
Electra
I frowned as I pulled up the zipper on my black uniform, covering up my scarlet lingerie. For five years, I’d worn black almost every day. I was so fucking sick of black. Before I’d taken this job, I wore bright colours. Yellow, orange, hot pink. The brighter the better.
But this job required black. My lingerie and my nail polish were my small acts of rebellion. Today’s polish was a violent purple. When Bastien saw it, maybe he’d smile that lopsided grin that never failed to make my stomach flip.
Not that I had chosen my nail polish for him. Not at all. It was for me. Lately, I felt as though there was nothing left of the person I used to be. Spontaneous. Happy.
Although it had been a long time since I’d truly been happy. From the day that my powers had come through, my life had not been my own. Mother had steamrolled over my life plans, pushing me, controlling me. She had ignored my twin, Calypso. I knew that Caly had been devastated when she failed the Magic Tests, but every day since then, I’d wished I could have traded places with her. I wanted to be ordinary. I never wanted to be the strongest Witch for two hundred years. I hadn’twanted our mother to push and push and push. Unless I was the best at everything, I wasn’t good enough.
Most of all, I hadn’t wanted to be a pre-cog. With this power, there was only one real career path. It paid well. It paid spectacularly well. But it wasn’t the life I’d wanted for myself. And there wasn’t much point in having a good salary if you didn’t get to spend it. For five years I’d been part of the security entourage for Bastien Bowden. The youngest Shifter President in history. I lived in the Presidential Palace. My meals were provided for me. The laundry service washed my clothes. I didn’t need a car. In fact, I hadn’t driven for five years. If I went anywhere, it was with the President in a motorcade or in a car with a driver supplied by the Palace.
The collar on my uniform was choking me.
I couldn’t do this anymore. Five years of wearing black. Five years of a life controlled by a rigid schedule. No freedom. No spontaneity. Five years of barely being touched. My sister was the only person who touched me, and we didn’t see each other as often as we liked. The other members of the President’s personal security team were good guys, but they didn’t do casual touching. From day one they’d been respectful, but they were Shifters and they always kept a distance from me. Whether it was because I was the only human on the team, or because I was a woman, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t complaining; I’d take respectful distance over creepy leering and overly familiar touching any day. But it was lonely. I was touch starved. Even after five years I had made few friends in the Palace. I certainly couldn’t imagine asking any of them for a hug. Except for…him.
Bastien. My boss. The President. The one person I wanted to touch most of all. But I never would.
Since the day I’d met him, I’d had a hopeless crush on him. I’d seen his picture before my interview, of course. But I hadn’t expected the charisma and charm of the real man. The imposing presence. Over six feet tall and broad-shouldered, dark hair slightly too long to be fashionable, he’d sucked the air out of the room. He’d taken my hand in his, and my knees went weak. I couldn’t remember a thing I’d said in my interview. And then he’d smiled and given a nod to his assistant, who offered me a job. I accepted on the spot.
I should have been elated. The job of Presidential bodyguard was the pinnacle of my career and I was only twenty-five years old. I knew that my mother would be ecstatic when she heard the news. But my heart stayed steady in its regular rhythm. Thump, thump, thump. No skip of excitement. My skin didn’t prickle with anticipation. My lips didn’t curve in a smile.
It was a job. A job that suited my skills perfectly. A job that I had been groomed for my entire adult life. A job that I didn’t want.
By contrast, when the super sexy Alpha Shifter President had taken my hand in his? When he took me on a tour of the Palace then asked me out to dinner? There was the prickle on my skin. The kick in my heartrate. Sudden dampness in my panties.
I’d held my jaw tight to prevent the word ‘yes’ flying out of my mouth. How could I say yes? Every sacrifice I’d made since I’d passed the damned Magic Tests had been to get a position like this. I was young. I’d seen the doubt in his eyes when he raked his gaze up and down my body. But I was the best and although I didn’t want the job, I’d sacrificed my own desires to get to this point. So there was no way I was going to let the lines blur. No way I’d let anyone think that I’d got this job because he wanted to fuck me.
He'd been very polite about my refusal, even though his smile had grown fixed and stiff. I thought he had understood why I’d turned him down and that it wouldn’t get in the way of us both being professional.
It was fine until it wasn’t.
I rubbed at the ache in my chest, thinking of the day he’d cut me to the bone with his words.
“Your new bodyguard is pretty cute.” The Consul from Venezuela turned sideways in his chair, eying me blatantly, not caring that I could hear every word from my position behind the President’s chair. He was fifty if he was a day and his wedding ring glinted on his finger. Ew. Gross. “Have you fucked her yet?”
The President shot him a look, his hand tightening around his wineglass. His knuckles were white. A small ping from my pre-cog told me the glass was about to shatter. “Sir,” I warned.
The hand eased off. Bringing the glass to his mouth, he swallowed the remaining contents before he bothered replying. “Don’t bother,” he said. “She’s not interested. We call her the Ice Queen.”
“Pity,” the Consul grunted, turning his disgusting gaze away.
I couldn’t breathe through the pain in my chest. This was what betrayal felt like. My legs tensed, ready to run. But I couldn’t go. Or at least, I wasn’t allowed to go. I’d be abandoning my post.
How could he? I knew he had a reputation. Everyone had told me he was unemotional and calculating. I hadn’tbelieved them. In the two weeks I’d been employed in the Palace, he’d been kind. Solicitous to my comfort.
Understanding hit like a baseball bat to the head. Dots swam in my vision and I had to fucking breathe or I’d be on the floor. My inhalation was like the gasp of a dying woman. But it did the trick. I wasn’t going to fall on my face. I ground my jaw, and I pinched my arm, twisting the skin. The pain helped me focus. I wasn’t going to cry.
I’d thought he’d been nice to me because he liked me. He served me breakfast in the Small Dining Room. He’d smiled at me. And I’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker. I’d thought I was special. Stupid. So fucking stupid. I was the hired help and the person who was the last line of defence between him and death. Of course he was going to be fucking polite to me. He had impeccable manners and he was a consummate politician.
But now he’d made his real feelings clear. He’d asked me out to dinner after my interview and the tour he’d given me, and I’d rejected him. I’d hurt his ego.
I imagined my eyes as lasers, drilling a hole into the back of his head. The President shifted in his chair, as if he was uncomfortable. Could he tell that I was angry? Was it some Alpha Shifter shit? Well, I didn’t care. If he wanted an Ice Queen, that’s what he would get.
And that was what I’d turned myself into. I was the Ice Queen. When I was on duty or in the Palace—which was most of the time— I shut down my emotions. I didn’t joke with the rest of the team. I didn’t watch movies with them in the staff lounge in my free time. I didn’t drink with them or share personal stories. No wonder none of them went near me. Slowly, I froze until I was so brittle I was ready to crack.
Eventually the hurt and anger faded. As far as I could tell, Bastien had never again used the label. He had apologised the next morning. When he served me breakfast the same as he’d done every day since I’d started. For a moment, I’d thought about throwing it back in his face. But that was my pride talking. I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth, taking the plate with a cool nod, no sign of the stupid giddy smile I’d given him the other mornings. He’d made it clear that his little ritual of filling my plate every morning didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t special. We didn’t have athingbetween us. Clearly my diet of romance books had gone to my head. I’d been the one who had read too much into his behaviour.
