Page 61 of The Bodyguard and the Alpha (Witch Twins #2)

Electra

I woke in an unfamiliar bed. The mattress was soft as a cloud and the sheets were like butter against my skin.

My naked skin.

Sitting up, I scanned the room in the dim light of early morning. Enormous bed. Priceless art on the walls.

Okay. The room was familiar. I was in the presidential suite.

Alone.

I refused to feel hurt that Bastien wasn’t here with me. He was the President. He was a busy man. I had known that he would have to go back to his life once he bonded the two parts of his soul.

And where did that leave me (other than alone in a bed)? Did he still want me as his mate? As his bodyguard? What would we tell the other members of the security team?

Oh yeah, they already knew.

Familiar frustration flared in my chest.

Sweetheart, you’re awake.

Bastien’s mental voice was warm and smooth, like warm honey.

Shit. My shields.

As if sensing my panic, his mental voice was soothing . I’m not reading your thoughts, my mate. But I can tell that you are awake. Breakfast is ready and will be delivered in ten minutes.

We always had breakfast in the Small Dining Room. Always. Since I’d started. Without fail, Bastien had breakfast with me when I was on shift.

And today he wasn’t.

Or was breakfast being delivered so that we could talk in private?

My stomach churned.

I could do this.

Jumping out of bed I grabbed the robe that was laid at its foot as I spun in place, searching the room for some clothes to wear.

My uniform was nowhere in sight. Fuck. What did that mean?

Okay, I was wrong. I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t ready. I knew it was cowardly, but I didn’t want to have that conversation. The one we should have had yesterday.

Anxiety tightened in my chest and I knew I was spiralling. I hunched forward.

I couldn’t get enough air.

Breathe. I knew I needed to take slow even breaths.

The lid on the box in the furthest recesses of my mind rattled.

I tried to drag in air. My throat was tight, only allowing the tiniest sips of air into my lungs.

Fuck. My calming techniques weren’t working. Was he going to reject me politely over breakfast? Bile rose up my throat and I swallowed it down. If I wasn’t here, he couldn’t tell me that he didn’t want me.

Maybe if I could keep the bond in place a little longer, he’d change his mind. Surely I could make him want to keep me?

I couldn’t stay here. I had to leave. But where could I go?

My sister’s apartment was empty. I could stay there. Hurry. Hurry.

But my feet didn’t work. My legs were limp noodles, refusing to obey my mind. Black spots danced in my vision and I slumped to the floor, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, curling up into a ball.

The locks on the black box in my mind broke and the darkness rose to swallow me.