Page 10 of Guardian’s Destiny (Space Guardian’s Mate #3)

SLOANE

I would have loved to at least say goodbye to Nova. The Tuck thing was still bothering me, but given a choice, I voted to leave. Tuck had always been close-mouthed, especially about his family, and it had bugged the hell out of me. Still did.

The sooner we left on Vraax's ship, the sooner we would get his mission accomplished, and I could be on my way to Astrionis. His ship wasn't quite as nice as Luph's, but it gave us everything we needed. I had no intentions of abandoning Vraax or the others on their mission. My curiosity was awakened, and I couldn't simply give up, mainly because I couldn't overlook the similarities between their mission and mine. I was sure Emperor Daryus would agree that it was worth investigating, which at the same time should give him the answers he had been waiting for. This wasn't just some secret agent shit, this was a lot more meaningful. This could answer all the questions about life, death, and the universe.

Unfortunately, this also meant my curiosity about Nova would have to wait until we saw each other again.

First, I had to find out what Vraax knew about the Arkhevari and if I could trust him; then, maybe, I would fill him in on my mission. If everything failed, I would take him prisoner and force him to take me to Astrionis.

I liked that plan. I could live with it.

In the meantime, we had to deal with the Soulweb Glyphs, who had once again decided that we couldn't be more than twenty feet apart and forced us to sleep in the same room.

Vraax's bed was comfortable enough for me to stretch out, hug my pillow, close my eyes, and ignore his groans as he adjusted himself on the large beanbag chair in the corner by the window. His antics didn't faze me; I knew from experience that those beanbags were the height of comfort. They adjusted to any person sitting or lying in them perfectly and even changed the temperature to what they sensed would be the coziest way to sleep. He might have been larger than me, but the bags were also plenty big enough to give him room. I wasn't about to share this bed with a stranger. I was trained to take out pretty much any threat, but I wasn't so sure I could take the Space Guardian down, definitely not easily.

I ignored the groans coming from him and closed my eyes to allow my nightly ghosts to come visit me. They would hunt me for a while and eventually allow me to go to sleep. A sleep filled with nightmares, but that couldn't be helped either. The only question was which ghosts I would meet tonight.

Turned out it was Ash.

No one was more surprised than me when one day she showed up unannounced at one of the last surviving military compounds on Earth, in San Antonio, Texas.

I smiled into my pillow at the memory of us getting shitfaced drunk and talking about our experiences. I continued to fully ignore Vraax, who huffed out loud, pounding at his chair, probably with his fist.

This nightly ritual was a way to decompress and deal with the past. I was grateful tonight that it was Ash keeping my mind company instead of some of the nastier memories.

The big man on the beanbag chair must have finally fallen asleep since he stopped huffing and puffing. I took a deep breath, wishing I could follow his example. But I was used to needing an hour or two just to lie here and allow these memories to roll over me until my mind was finally too tired to keep up any longer. It was a nightly battle, and I had long ago learned that it was easier to just lay there and take it for as long as it took before I fell asleep than to fight it by watching TV, scrolling through a comm, playing games, or whatever. A stiff drink helped now and then, but I had been too close to turning into a full-blown alcoholic to give in to that particular demon.

I was surprised when my thoughts turned to him . I had no idea what it was that turned me on about him. Well, I had some idea, because that body of his? That was exactly the type I preferred. Hard, in shape, and huge. It was his cocky attitude that turned me off. I had seen it too many times, and yes, his type was fun in bed, but as soon as they figured out that I wasn't the clingy type, that I was actually exactly the type they should prefer, who not only let them go but wanted them gone, things changed. Suddenly, they wanted more . Some people might have called it karma ; I just called it a nightmare and tried to stay away from it as much as possible. When the need arose, I made damn sure that several hundred miles would soon separate us, to stop any kind of nonsense that might develop into another long drawn out talk .

As regretful as it was, the big silver alien hunk was off limits. The Soulweb Glyphs were already bad enough. He didn't need any other ideas put into his head that we might become some permanent thing. As soon as this was over, I would find a way to get rid of those tattoos, even if I had to have them cut out. I didn't gave a damn. I didn't need that kind of complication in my life. A husband had never been even a vague figure in my future plans. Hell, I never even had a long-term boyfriend. Some of it was because of my job. It wasn't unusual for me to have to leave at a moment's notice to parts unknown. Even when I knew where I was shipped to, I was hardly ever at liberty to share that information with anybody. This wouldn't have been fair for any kind of relationship. There wasn't any type of man who would put up with that kind of shit. Most women didn't. I watched relationships grow and break too often ever to want any part of that emotional mess.

The other part of it was the type of men I liked. I like the alpha assholes. A lot. And they sure as shit would have never allowed me to pursue my career. They were like my father in a lot of ways. They might have let me have a career as a doctor, a teacher, or in retail, but nothing that would have put my life in danger.

I probably could have put up with a man like Xandrox; he never tried to reign Ash in. Unfortunately, he was taken, and I was pretty sure he was a once-in-a-universe type of man.

The last thought on my mind before I dozed off was that maybe Zapharos would know how to get rid of the mating marks. Then, finally, I felt sleep pulling me slowly under. My body became heavy, and I even felt a few slight jerks as my muscles relaxed. I was almost out when…

"Frygg!" Vraax yelled, jumping with astonishing ease out of the chair and kicking it across the room.

"What?" I sat up with a start, irritated that I had just wasted two hours or so trying to fall asleep and now would have to start all over again.

Vraax rubbed his face with his hands and began pacing the room.

"What?" I repeated. I was awake, so I might as well find out why.

"Nothing, go back to sleep."

It's not that easy, buster .

"Bad dream?" I guessed.

He moved to the wall where he had kicked the beanbag against and pulled it back toward the window.

I had no idea why I felt the need to try, but try I did. "I have trouble sleeping too. Dreams can be a bitch sometimes."

He plopped down on the chair, his hands still rubbing his face, his neck, running through his hair, before he rubbed the mating marks on his arm. I didn't think he would reply and was ready to lay back down and start another round of fighting my mind, when he finally did, "I never had trouble sleeping before."

"Before?" I fished, even though I wasn't sure I was really in the mood of getting up close and personal with him, before I decided that we were about to spend a few weeks together, so we might as well try to get along.

Why I was so set against it, I had no clue. I had gotten along with far more difficult personalities than his for the sake of a mission.

"Before I ran into the others," he clarified.

"Oh," I nodded as if that made everything crystal clear.

"I liked my life. I chased down the bad guys, eliminated them, and moved to the next mission," he filled me in. I could relate to that. I liked that kind of life too. Only once I was recruited by the CIA, the line between good and bad blurred too much for my taste. "Now, I don't know who the bad ones are anymore." He finished, and goosebumps ran down my arm at our similar stories.

"Turns out, my bosses are the bad guys. Ironic, right?"

"Yeah," I agreed as a particularly nasty memory tried to prick through my skull. "I killed my boss," I confided, unsure why.

That perked him up though, "What?"

"It was self-defense, really, her or me. She was about to support a major terror attack. So anyway, I know what it feels like to be betrayed by the people who you're supposed to trust." I still didn't understand why I shared this with him.

He got up from the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed. "That couldn't have been easy."

"It wasn't as hard as you might think. Hate is a powerful motivator, and the hate you feel for being betrayed… it's right up there."

He nodded, "Yeah. I wanted to rip Possedion to pieces. When you did what you did," he shook his head and regarded me with admiration, "I wanted to be you."

I laughed dryly. "Trust me, it didn't feel that good." I shuddered at the memory, wondering what night it would come to hunt me. That was the price I paid for being able to shut my emotions off during the day and do what I had to do. I didn't care about Possedion, one way or another, I really didn't. I didn't know the guy, just like I hadn't known many of the others. He was a job, that was all—an obstacle in my way to get my mission done.

He tilted his head, drawing his brows together. "You didn't seem like you cared."

"Yeah," another dry chuckle ran through me. "I'm the queen of pretend." Where the fuck did that come from? "I made him talk; that's all that matters."

"Not if it bothers you," he said, his hand reached forward and I pulled mine back, ignoring the quick flicker of hurt in his eyes for the rejection.

"Even if it bothers me. You of all people should know what it means to accomplish a mission, no matter your personal sentiments about it."

He looked stunned. "Actually, I don't. I've always taken pride in taking out criminals and protecting the innocent."

I barely stopped my eyes from rolling. Who was this guy, and why the hell were we talking in the middle of the night about feelings and missions and… whatever?

"You don't question the validity of having killed all those people? Because they were criminals?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Never."

He was either lying or more callous than I had pegged him.

I didn't have to ask the next logical question because he elaborated on his own. "Space Guardians have a deep sense of right and wrong. People give out certain auras for us; I can spot a bad person from across the room."

He wasn't boasting; he was simply explaining, and I probably would have laughed into his face had I not met Zapharos before. Now, his statement only served to raise more goosebumps across my flesh.

"That's a neat little talent to have," something bugged me about it though, "but if you have that sense, how come it didn't alarm you to the true nature of the Ohrurs?"

He ran his hand through his black, short hair, making my palms itch to copy his moves. I would have loved to explore if his hair was soft or bristly.

"That's because I've never met the Ohrurs face to face. I've only met with them via holocomms. Never in person. Not until Tharaax brought Possedion in. That's when I saw how evil he was."

"You think the comm distorted their evilness ?" I could hardly believe we were talking about auras and evilness in the middle of the night. Having contact with aliens I thought would have been all about tech, not some spiritual shit.

"We're sure of it. It was the same for the others."

I still wasn't convinced. "Didn't Tharaax say other Space Guardians are guarding the Ohrurs? They are meeting them in person, so why don't they see it?"

"We've asked ourselves the same questions, trust me. But we haven't figured it out yet, other than that all those Space Guardians still seem to be in training. Maybe they haven't developed that sense yet?"

"Maybe," I allowed. "When did you start having it?"

He blinked a few times. Then cradled his head as if it was hurting.