My Alpha, My Bodyguard

My Alpha, My Bodyguard

last updateLast Updated : 2024-02-11
By:  Cyan.Heart  Ongoing
Language: English
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"This is my office. Bought with the money that I made. I made you who you are. Without me you’d be nothing more than a starving, working-class tramp scraping by on minimum wage to pay the bills. So, unless you want bad things to start happening, I suggest you apologize right f*cking now." From the outside, Vivienne's life looks like a fairytale: a nobody waitress swept into Hollywood stardom and the arms of a rich husband. But behind closed doors, it's a nightmare, and one that's about to get much worse. The only one willing to protect her now is Marcus, an ex-military, ex-mafia shifter who won't let anything hurt her. Yet problems still loom. Vivienne's stalker is still at large, her abusive husband and his family threaten her, and Marcus's position as an alpha shifter means even the other packs are against his feelings for a regular human. Can the two of them survive and find happiness together, or will these obstacles tear them apart forever?

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1.1 Vivienne

Although being an actress certainly had its share of perks, the downsides tended to be far more harrowing. Mostly because they had the tendency to be broadcast throughout the world. There was hardly such thing as personal privacy when one wrong move could get your name and face plastered on every gossip column this side of the west. The high life was a dream, but a fragile one. Appearances were everything, and secrets were the ropes that bound them up. Vivienne knew that better than most because she was hiding several ugly little truths of her own.Like right now. Vivienne Hardison pushed open the door of her manager’s office to a sight that stopped her dead in her tracks. Biting back the gasp in her throat, she braced herself against the expected wave of sadness and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb of her manager’s office; arms folded loosely across her chest as she watched cinema’s newest up-and-coming star bounce away on his lap. From this angle, Vivienne couldn’t see his fac

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46 Chapters

1.1 Vivienne

Although being an actress certainly had its share of perks, the downsides tended to be far more harrowing. Mostly because they had the tendency to be broadcast throughout the world. There was hardly such thing as personal privacy when one wrong move could get your name and face plastered on every gossip column this side of the west. The high life was a dream, but a fragile one. Appearances were everything, and secrets were the ropes that bound them up. Vivienne knew that better than most because she was hiding several ugly little truths of her own.Like right now. Vivienne Hardison pushed open the door of her manager’s office to a sight that stopped her dead in her tracks. Biting back the gasp in her throat, she braced herself against the expected wave of sadness and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb of her manager’s office; arms folded loosely across her chest as she watched cinema’s newest up-and-coming star bounce away on his lap. From this angle, Vivienne couldn’t see his fac
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1.2 Vivienne

It took all of her strength not to claw the eyes out of his smug, stupid little face. A little more pressure, and the acrylic tips of her manicured nails would have snapped clean off in her fists. “I’m not going to whore myself out for a movie, Liam!” Vivienne snarled. “No matter how much money it makes at the box office. I’m not some goddamn toy, asshole! What the fuck is wrong with you?”The slap came so quick and so sudden that Vivienne didn’t even register that the impact had happened until the pain came a few seconds later. “You do not raise your voice at me,” Liam hissed in a low, dangerous voice. “This is my office. Bought with the money that I made. I made you who you are. Without me you’d be nothing more than a starving, working-class tramp scraping by on minimum wage to pay the bills. So, unless you want bad things to start happening, I suggest you apologize right fucking now.”Vivienne wanted to scream. Wanted to yell that things were already bad, and how much worse could t
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1.3 Vivienne

The barista, a freckle-faced teenager with curly brown hair and olive skin, fumbled to raise his head from the mobile badly hidden behind the register when Vivienne made it to the front. Painting on a patented magazine smile, she greeted him politely, “Hi, could I get a black coffee for here? Medium, please.”“Um…” Dark blue eyes went wide behind the round frames of his glasses. The phone slipped out of his hands and clattered very loudly on the ground.Experience allowed her to maintain her grace, though his behaviour confused her. It would be easy to call him starstruck, but Vivienne wasn’t a star. Depeche Mode had been the highest point of her career in terms of attention, but it had been a relatively small role in mid-tier Netflix series. No one stopped her in the street to ask for autographs, and baristas definitely didn’t get tongue-tied in front of her. This kid had definitely recognized her, but probably not for the reason other people normally would.Just as she was about to
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1.4 Vivienne

“Where the hell have you been?!” Liam snarled as soon as the door opened. He marched across the open-concept room, arm already raised in preparation. “I’ve been waiting for hours! I thought I told you to go straight home woman. Did you think I was joking?!”Vivienne tensed her shoulders and braced for the imminent burst of pain, only to be surprised when none came. When she opened her eyes, she found Marcus standing in front of her, one hand wrapped so tightly around Liam’s wrist that she could almost hear the bones grinding from the strain. Her husband tried not to show how much it hurt, but Vivienne had lived with the man long enough to spot the telltale cringe in his shoulders.The broad planes of Marcus’s back arrested her vision as he planted himself before her. A massive barrier, unfaltering in the face of Liam’s impotent rage. It was like watching a beetle attempting to fight a boulder.“What the hell are you doing, Riviera?” Liam hissed. “I didn’t pay you to defy my orders.”“
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2.1 Marcus

Marcus Riviera considered himself to be a good man. At the very least, he tried to be a decent person. A life spent honing his instincts to fit in with normal human society had taught him how to ignore the auditory dissonance of information that bombarded his ears every day, and parse through the mishmash of olfactory sensations that assaulted his nose. Many times, after returning home with a splitting headache he had caught himself wishing that he was a wolf shifter and not a bear, if only to give his brain a break from the odorous overload. In addition to that, society was far more accepting of smaller shifter types. Cats, dogs, rabbits, they all tended to get first dibs when it came to lobbying for public acceptance. Even werewolves, vicious as they could be, were the most common shifter group and were thus better able to argue from a point of statistical significance in the population. Marcus didn’t begrudge them that, but he missed his little hideaway farmhouse. The sma
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2.2 Marcus

It was also a shock to see proof of his suspicions live in front of him. While Marcus wouldn’t consider himself a huge fan of the actress (though some of his friends would loudly disagree), he had paid some attention to her career over the years. Long enough to spot the edge of sadness that tinged every performance. Many tabloid websites had claimed everything from illegal drugs to a hidden back-alley abortion, but domestic abuse had never come up because no one wanted to accuse the Liam Hardison of raising a hand to his spouse. Not without proof anyway. Well now here he was, standing right in front of said proof singing prettily over a plate of coffee and eggs, the faint smell of blood and anti-bruising cream stinging inside Marcus’s nose like sulphur in a coalmine with the canary long dead. You weren’t good enough back then, and she suffered because of it. She’s still suffering for it. Coughing gently to get her attention,
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3.1 Vivienne

No matter how bad her mood was, there was nothing like freshly made breakfast food to perk a girl up from even the direst of situations. Sometimes Vivienne thought the only thing standing between her and the short edge of a very steep cliffside was a cheesy omelet and a cup of steaming hot java.Vivienne curled up on her bed, carefully balancing the mug on the edge of the bedside table while she ate her eggs on toast. Normally she was never up this early, but she hadn’t been able to sleep during the night. Every creaking sigh of the wooden beams, every gnawing squeak of the furniture, every rasping hum of an engine outside the window terrified her with the dire possibilities. What if there was still someone inside the house watching her? News and story forums were full of tales like that. Horror anecdotes of strangers living in the gaps between the
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3.2 Vivienne

“He’s a what?!” Vivienne was glad she had already braced herself for Melanie’s outburst. “Liam hired a shifter to guard you? I thought he didn’t care about this!” “Right?!” That was still the odd thing about this. For all that Liam had waved off the threat as though it didn’t mean anything, why had he gone out and dropped so much money on a shifter, let alone one like Marcus? It didn’t make any sense. “Maybe it’s just to make himself look good. Even if he doesn’t care, the media will, and it won’t look good for him nowadays. You know how much he pushes his image as a ‘family man’.” Melanie muttered something scathing under her breath about Liam’s family jewels before huffing out an angry breath. “Hmph. Well as long as you’re taken care of, that’s all that matters to me.” “Thanks Mel,” Vivienne smiled at the window, admiring the cornflower blue of the morning sky and feeling a thousand times better. “I’ll talk to you later, alright?”
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4.1 Marcus

Marcus wasn’t a stupid man. He was well aware that he was acting a tad overprotective of his new charge. Obviously remaining at home – within a known confined space – was the safest option, and it was common to scope out venues prior to arrival to ensure that the client remained safe, but supermarkets were far too open to do so. Marcus was good, but he was just one man, and he didn’t have the authority or funds to cordon off the building and subject every casual shopper to a strip search. Not that he’d ever needed to. Gunpowder had a very distinct smell, and it was one he would never be able to mistake for the rest of his life. Nevertheless, that didn’t rule out other possibilities such as knives or poison. One of the bodyguards at the agency Marcus was affiliated with had told a story about a greedy uncle who had tried to bump off his young nephew by smearing peanut oil along the rim of the child’s cup. If not for her nose and lightning-fast reflexes, the toddler might have
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4.2 Marcus

  Heat. Fire. An explosion of light so searing bright that Marcus himself was briefly blinded. Years of drilled in reflexes took over in an instant, and in a split second he grabbed Vivienne and yanked her into his arms, spinning around to shield her from the flames and noise. Screams filled the parking lot, but Marcus could hardly hear them over the ringing in his own head. The army-green cotton shirt he was wearing singed his back, half-melting into the skin and leaving gaps for flying bits of shrapnel and gravel to stick and flay across the burned flesh.   “Marcus?!” Finally a voice cut through the droning whine, dragging the shifter’s attention down. Vivienne was staring up at him with panicked concern, blessedly unharmed as far as he could see. One of her hands was raised to his cheek. “Marcus, are you okay?”
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