Page 11 of Guardian's Soul (Space Guardian's Mate #2)

HANNAH

True to his word, I received the bed, where I snuggled down on the most comfortable mattress I had lain on in what seemed like a long time—or ever—pulled an oversized pillow against me and under my head, and closed my eyes. Ready to put this rotten day behind me.

A faint sound from across the room—where Thrax had bedded his enormous form on the couch and didn't look comfortable at all—brought the reality of me not being alone in this room back to the forefront of my mind.

Once I allowed his presence in, other thoughts—very unwelcome thoughts—bullied their way in as well. Thrax had taken his shirt off before he bedded down, giving me a full view of his muscular body that put every professional bodybuilder I had ever seen to shame. There was not one part that wasn't in proportion to his muscles. In the dimming light, his silver skin enhanced the grooves and hills of his chiseled abs, creating shadows that made him look nearly irresistible.

Over the years, as a trainer, I had seen plenty of ripped men, but none of them came even close to the kind of physical perfection Thrax displayed. Too bad his character was so asshole-ish—I knew it wasn't a word, but I was in space with an alien, so I felt like I was allowed to make words up, especially since I couldn't think of a better word to describe him. I wasn't sure where all my anger and irritation came from. Those emotions had never had a place in my life before. I hadn't even been angry when Mom got sick or when she died. What they say about the stages of grief, I went straight from sadness to acceptance just like I had when she'd told me she was sick.

Life is weird sometimes , Hannah , she'd said, but I believe that everything happens for a reason. I still didn't see a reason why she got sick and died in her prime. I was still waiting to find out.

Damn you, Mom .

That one little thought was enough to cause an avalanche, and I realized I was mad at her . Had been mad at her ever since she got sick, as irrational as it was. I just hadn't allowed myself to acknowledge that anger. Or any other, for that matter.

Memories resurfaced of me having a temper tantrum when I was little, how Mom would make silly faces and noises until I laughed instead of throwing my toys. How she said anger doesn't help anything, let's watch a comedy when I was older. That's when my eyes opened that I was just like her. Mom had never complained about anything. She had always been my happy cheerleader.

Oh, Mom, I miss you . Tears burned in my eyes. But I'm not sure that your way is the right way to go through life. Anger is a normal emotion, one that needs to be expressed just like all the others .

Just like Mom, I went through life like reading a book. Keeping everyone at a distance, just like the two-dimensional characters on the pages. Even my job didn't come from a calling. Mom had just died, and I needed a job. She left barely enough money to tide me over for a month or two after all the hospital bills and after I sold the house and found myself a little apartment. So I started as a receptionist at the local gym, where, over the years, I worked my way up and took some classes to become a fitness trainer. The owner said I was a perfect fit with my bubbly personality and I was making good money. So I stayed and never thought about it twice. I lived just like Mom, one day at a time. The only difference was that she'd had me and I had nobody.

No matter how much I told myself that this was just the way I liked it, I suddenly realized it hadn't been enough. Not even close. And now it was too late. I was on an alien spaceship, headed for some distant planet, mated to a Space Guardian. Yeah, I need to allow myself to be angry . I have every reason to .

At last, it looked like he had found a comfortable spot, and not long after, my ears picked up on the steady breathing announcing that he'd fallen asleep. Of course he would fall asleep like a baby. Stupid alien.

I willed my body to relax, but while that part of me seemed to be willing to obey, my mind had other ideas. It figured this was a great opportunity to throw a quick summary of the sucky part of my last couple of weeks/month at me, and that now would be the perfect time for a quick slide show from hell. It didn't matter that I moaned and pressed my eyes closed. My mind was unrelenting on this, flooding my consciousness with memories of the past few weeks, each more horrifying than the last.

The stench of the sewers filled my nostrils once again. I could almost feel the damp chill seeping into my bones as I huddled with other survivors in the darkness beneath Portland.

A few hundred of us were living down here now, ever since the Cryons invaded Earth with unrelenting brutality. Stories of people being killed and abducted ran rampant.

The atmosphere in the sewers was one of desperation. I didn't even smell the stench anymore. The constant crying and moaning were enough to distract me.

At least I didn't have family to worry about. At least there was that. I had acquaintances—I wouldn't have called them friends. But we weren't close enough for me to truly worry about them. It was an every man and woman for themselves kind of world.

I didn't envy the small family who had taken up residence next to me. Mom, dad, and two kids. Or the elderly couple across, who worried about their children and grandchildren.

I did try to lighten the mood now and then by announcing the rat stew had actual potatoes in it at lunch—we all knew we weren't eating rat stew, but it got the major going, and his overdramatic response was enough to make everyone giggle for a moment. I enthused over the blankets the soldiers brought back and pointed out how lucky we were to have them as our protectors. I liked to think that I made a bit of a difference during that dreadful time, and in hindsight, I was glad I didn't dwell in anger like some of the others. It wouldn't have made a lick of a difference. Well, at least not a good one. There were enough people around whose anger brought others down.

It was somehow organized. A few military people had taken charge, sending out men and women brave enough to run raids to bring back food and water and whatever else we needed. I had joined them a few times, not wanting to be a dead weight, but it had been frightening to do so, to say the least. I wasn't a brave or courageous woman. I was a fitness trainer, for crying out loud, not a hero.

I could, however, follow orders and carry the items the soldiers deemed necessary back to the sewers.

Small walls of sheet metal, boxes, curtains, and anything that could be found had been erected to grant us some sense of privacy.

During the "day," most of us worked. The soldiers insisted, said it would be bad for morale to just sit there and do nothing, and they were probably right about that, too. Major Holloway always found something for us to do. Clean out trash, divide rations, sort through the items brought in, and purify water if we couldn't find bottled water. Kill rats, wash clothes, prepare and distribute communal food twice a day. The list went on and on. He was very inventive when it came to finding more chores .

Life had almost taken on a routine. Enough that we thought we were safe.

We were wrong.

"They're coming!" someone screamed from farther down. The buzzing of drones echoed off the slimy walls, growing louder by the second.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the images, but they persisted.

The Cryon soldiers, towering and emotionless, their weapons trained on us as they herded us like cattle onto their shuttle.

One barked a command at me I didn't understand, shoving me forward with a stick that I had learned worked like a cattle prod.

The memory of the spaceship made my stomach churn. Hundreds of us crammed into a cell, hands bound painfully behind our backs. The indignity of having to ask fellow prisoners for help with the most basic bodily functions still burned.

But even that, I mastered in typical Hannah fashion. I approached a woman and asked, Hey, so I guess we're already sharing everything else in this charming little cell. Wanna add ‘bathroom buddy' to the list ? For a moment, the lady looked stunned, but then she laughed, turning the others' attention to us. In hindsight, I realized I was burning on the inside with shame and, yes, anger, but I did what I had always done, made light of the grimmest situation any of us had ever been in. My words, we're gonna look back on this someday and laugh. Probably while in therapy, but still—laugh, made some giggle. Fueling me with a sense of accomplishment and giving me the strength to wait to go pee for another few minutes until everyone returned to their gloomy thoughts.

I rolled onto my side, curling into a tight ball. The food trough flashed in my mind—that cursed metal contraption where we had to kneel and lap up sustenance like animals. The Cryons had watched, their cold eyes devoid of any empathy.

I called out, Oh, don't be shy—grab a plate and join us! Oh, wait, I forgot—you don't do plates. A couple of subdued chuckles rose from the other prisoners, but the Cryons' only response was silence. At that moment, I realized the terrifying truth—to them, we weren't people at all. We were commodities, resources to be exploited in their relentless quest for galactic domination.

A sob caught in my throat. I buried my face in the pillow, willing the memories away. Slow-churning anger burned like acid in my stomach at the humiliations the Cryons had subjected us to. Anger I should have felt then but had suppressed.

I heard Thrax's steady breathing. At least he seemed to have found rest.

What are you going to do with me?

So many questions burned inside me. I felt like a leaf ripped from a tree by the most brutal storm imaginable. Blown right and left, up and down, wind tearing at the edges as it kept changing direction, totally at the mercy of the raging storm that surrounded it, with no way out. Nowhere to hide.

Just like my restless mind, wherever it went, there was no peace. My future was just as terrifying as the last few weeks, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep it together.

The lights slowly began to illuminate the room in an imitation of dawn, just like they had dimmed the night before. After catching an hour of fitful sleep here and there, my head felt fuzzy. I sat up, running my fingers through my tangled hair in an attempt to get my bearings. Movement from the couch turned my attention, and I caught sight of Thrax stirring.

"Morning," I muttered, having no clue what alien etiquette required. My voice sounded hoarse from lack of sleep.

Thrax's eyes met mine before he closed them for a moment. Probably realizing that no, he hadn't dreamed, and yes, I was still here. Well, get used to it. That makes two of us, buster .

I waited a beat when his eyes opened again, but he didn't ask, did you sleep well? Or anything like it, so I refrained from trying to pretend we were enjoying each other's company.

"What's the plan now?" I stretched and moved off the bed, hating for him to see me on it.

He gestured toward the door. "Nourishment first. Then we talk."

Nourishment first. Then we talk , my mind repeated his words in a falsetto.

"How about a quick bathroom break first?" I suggested, aware of my throbbing bladder. "I don't know how your anatomy works, but humans need a few moments."

He, too, stood up with a slight sneer on his face that made me want to punch him. Sorry my body needs certain things , asshole .

Why, of all the creatures in the universe, it had to be him saving me was a puzzle I couldn't figure out.

But then it hit me. He had saved me. If it weren't for him, unspeakable things would have been done to my body by now. It didn't seem like he wanted or needed any kind of thanks for it, but guilt rushed through me for not having done so yet. That actually, I'd been acting like a spoiled brat, like someone throwing food into their savior's face after they found them starving. I might have gotten a little bit too caught up in releasing the dragon and allowed anger to control me, just like Mom had warned me. But hey, I figured everyone is entitled to some rudeness in their lives and to let their anger out.

It still took a little bit of getting over myself because, let's be honest, he was an ass, but I managed, "I don't think I've thanked you yet. For taking me away from there."

My foot drew an undescriptive pattern on the ground, and my focus was on it. I didn't want to look at him, just like I had intentionally not thanked him for saving me because, hey, I still didn't feel safe .

When he didn't reply, I looked up. His expression was one of surprise and disbelief. Briefly, I entertained the idea of us being civil, but he quickly ruined it with a sarcastic remark.