Vortex by Cara Bristol

Author:Cara Bristol
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: alien romance, cyborg romance, enemies to lovers, over 40 heroine, bodyguard romance, later in life, forced proximity
Publisher: Cara Bristol
Published: 2022-10-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Tempest

In choir, in another life, I’d performed before audiences, but the shower had always been my favorite place to sing.

“Where do you go when home isn’t home anymore? When all that is certain cannot be?” I appreciated the irony—or maybe the accuracy—of one of my favorite songs. Home wasn’t an address, but a feeling of safety and centeredness indicating wherever you were was exactly where you needed to be. On Earth, I owned a condo, but I hadn’t had a home in a long time.

Recent topsy-turvy events had cast my life into greater uncertainty. As a rule, I questioned everything, but now I doubted my doubts! I didn’t know what to believe anymore. Lathering my hands, I washed my body, wincing as the soap stung the cuts and abrasions. If not for Bane’s jacket, and the way he’d shielded me with his body, I would have suffered more than minor cuts and scrapes.

The sand in the park and beyond the dump had been powdery soft, caressing. In the storm, it had been sharp and cutting. The alien had a violent side. It might be outmatched by humans seeking to claim its territory, but it wasn’t completely defenseless. The alien wouldn’t give up without a fight.

I’d witnessed a different side of Bane, too. Or maybe I’d seen the same side in a new way. His stony, forbidding, emotionless demeanor had offered rock-solid support and calm in the midst of danger and chaos. His composure and clear head had kept us safe. The storm reports had not prepared me for being caught in one. The wind and sand vortexes had picked up the RTC and smacked it around like a badminton shuttlecock.

With action rather than words, he’d taken charge of the situation and offered comfort. He’d held me in the RTC, given me his coat, and carried me through the whiteout—then fixed it so we had a room. Perhaps I should have rebelled, insisted on standing on my own two feet, but it had felt good to lean on somebody for a change—to lean on him. In the middle of a crisis, I’d instinctively trusted him.

Once, he’d scared me to death, but, forced to rely on him, I’d lost my fear of him.

Common sense and past experience cautioned me to remember who he worked for. I was mere collateral, and, in his mission to serve the president, I could become collateral damage. I shouldn’t relax my guard because he’d acted nice during one particular day.

Remember who he is. What he’s done. What he’s willing to do.

I knew what other enforcers were capable of. And Bane had a rep for being the worst of all of them. Other enforcers feared him.

But could this be a case of guilt by association?

Everyone assumed I was as corrupt as the president I worked for. I would have to be, wouldn’t I? Principles had been tarnished, ethics compromised, but I’d tap-danced as fast and hard as I could to avoid breaking any laws. I’d searched and searched for an exit ramp.

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