Page 11 of Guardian’s Destiny (Space Guardian’s Mate #3)

VRAAX

Of all the things I hated about the Ohrurs, I hated these damn headaches the most. They were a distraction. Every time I tried to remember something from my past, they would start, like millions of little picks hammering against my skull from the inside.

"What's wrong?" Sloane asked.

"Headache," I pushed out, taking a deep breath. "They always come when we try to remember."

"We?" Sloane prodded.

I nodded as the headache slowly retreated because we were changing the subject. "All of us Guardians." I clarified.

"Interesting," she mumbled. "You wake up with them, too?"

"Whenever I dream of Darlam," I admitted.

"We might be able to work on that."

That female was just full of surprises.

"How?"

"Let me figure that out. First, tell me about your training. What kind did you have?"

That one was easy, or should have been easy. The problem was the memories didn't feel right. "We all have memories of bunking together, training on computers, ships, weapons and things like that," I said carefully, feeling my way into my mind hoping to keep the headaches at bay, but one was already tugging on a nerve ending inside my brain, warning me not to dive in too deep.

"You don't sound convinced," she picked up on my reluctance.

"Not really. They're fuzzy and… indistinct. Like, I can't remember any of their names or faces. But I must have learned it somehow, right?" It was actually kind of nice talking to her about this. I had held back when the others shared their dreams or memories, mostly because I hadn't been convinced then that the Ohrurs truly were this evil force they were making them out to be. That, at least, had changed.

"You think they implanted wrong memories into your brain?" She suggested.

I scooted a little closer to her, liking how smart and perceptive she was and, yes, I admit, testing the waters. When I tried to comfort her earlier, and she pulled her hand away, it had stung.

"We've considered that possibility, yes," I admitted, remembering one of the many conversations with the others I had mainly listened to without much input.

She didn't scoot away from me, but, by the nebulas, she was as tight as a drawstring, making me wonder if this female ever allowed herself to let her guard down. One of the things I had liked about being a Space Guardian was the solitude, being alone on my ship, knowing nobody could get to me. Not like when I was planetside or on a space station, where danger lurked around every corner. I wondered if she had ever felt this way. I knew she had been a soldier before she came to us and worked in the intelligence community, which was probably not that different from all the other intelligence agencies across the universe. I had already noticed that she liked structure, the way most military professionals did. She also liked to be in charge, I chuckled. That hadn't escaped my attention, either. I wondered what title she had worn, nothing under Commander, I was sure of it.

Still, in her line of work, she must have led a fairly solitary life too, just in a different way, surrounded by others, never being able to trust anybody. Her words about her boss came back to me. Yeah, that had to have been a pretty hard blow, just like it had been for me when my eyes slowly opened to the Ohrurs' betrayals.

The dim lights softened her features; by the seven suns, she was a beautiful female. The urge to touch her, hold her, arose inside me, just as my cock hardened at her nearness. My hands itched to bury themselves into her red hair, dishevel it, just the way when I had seen her for the first time, before she started putting it into a tight knot at the back of her head. It wasn't in a knot right now; she had twisted it into a braid that reached past her shoulder blades. Two of my fingers twitched, drawn by the urge to give it a tug, to make her head bend backwards, to press my lips to hers…

"So, what did you dream about?" She changed the topic and brought me back right before I would have actually tugged on her braid.

"It's always the same; I'm running through a forest, and something is behind me, above me… I need to get somewhere, protect…" I stopped as a pain shot through my head that felt as if someone was driving a spike through my brain cells. "Frygg." I cradled my head.

"We should try to get some sleep," she suggested, sending a meaningful glance toward the padded chair.

"You're gonna make me sleep there?" I groaned.

She arched one of her beautiful eyebrows, and I stood up with a sigh. "Merciless female."

"Oh, I have mercy," she crooned, "you're still alive, aren't you?"

"Very funny." Reluctantly, I walked over to the piece of furniture I would have never suspected turn into an instrument of torture. "Do I need to keep an eye open while I sleep?"

"As long as you don't try anything funny, we'll be alright." She assured me, teasing another grin from me.

I would have liked to prolong the conversation and asked her what she considered doing anything funny , but she was right; she hadn't killed me yet, and she hadn't thrown any insults at me for a while, so that was progress, right? Other females would have swooned by now. Fallen at my feet, utterly charmed by my presence. I had seen it before—I never had to put in much effort. But Sloane? No, she had to be difficult. Challenging. No matter, I was up for it. It would make the eventual conquest all the sweeter.