Page 17 of Guardian's Soul (Space Guardian's Mate #2)

HANNAH

"Suahaana!"

I woke with a start, thinking at first he had called my name. My heart was pounding relentlessly. That name! It echoed inside my chest, raising emotions I couldn't describe. My tattoos were burning like they usually did when Thrax and I parted for too many feet.

Thrax!

My still sleepy brain took a moment before I figured out that I was lying on top of him. His arms were cradling me, and this was the most comfortable place I'd ever rested on. There was something wrong, though. He was still. So still.

"Thrax?" I mumbled, still not fully awake.

Fuck, was he even breathing?

"Thrax?" This time, I not only yelled his name but placed both of my hands on his chest and pushed and pulled on him until, his eyes opened, followed by a deep groan that sounded like someone who had been underwater for too long taking a deep first breath.

"Thrax?" Concern filled me.

"Hannah?" He blinked his eyes. His black eyes appeared glazed over before he blinked a few more times, and they finally focused on me.

"What happened?" he asked, holding his head. "Frygg, that hurts."

"I don't know. You mumbled a name, and I woke, and then… I think you stopped breathing." I put my suspicions in words, not liking the thought of him just stopping breathing . Fuck, who did that?

Carefully, I climbed off him. An aching sense of loss washed through me as if I was leaving him forever rather than simply getting off him and the chair.

"What name?" He pushed out while cradling his head.

The memory of the searing pain when those tattoos spread over my body returned and how comparably cool he had taken it. That was the worst pain of my life, so the fact he was curled up like this for a headache made me truly start to worry.

The wand rushed through my head. The dildo healing thing. Where was it?

"Suahaana?" I tried to emulate the way he had made the name sound and failed miserably, but I did find the wand.

When I turned, Thrax was rolled into a fetal position, holding his head while breathing hard enough to move a freight train. I had no idea how the damn dildo thing worked. I should have asked Thrax at the time instead of making fun of it. There were buttons to push, which I did, hoping this wasn't some kind of laser weapon, too.

The thing vibrated slightly in my hand. Hah, my dirty mind reiterated, but I was too worried about Thrax to dive deeper into what other usages this little thing might have. I remembered him waving it up and down, so I held it against his head. The vibrating increased.

"What?"

Thrax looked up. His eyes were glassy as hell. He ripped the wand thing from my hand. His fingers were shaking as he pushed buttons, holding it over his head. Ever so slowly, the tenseness on his body and face ebbed away. He still looked more haggard than he had a few hours ago, but at least he seemed to be out of pain.

"Can I get you anything?" I offered, truly concerned because he looked like shit.

"This helped. Thank you."

I arched an eyebrow but refrained from challenging him for thanking me, an indication of how worried I was about him.

Still, I imagined he might want something to drink. We usually got our drinks and food from the nourishing station, as he called it, but I noticed an assortment of what could be alcohol held in metallic bottles on a shelf. I grabbed one at random and brought it over.

He gave me an amused nod. His hand was still slightly shaking when he pulled the stopper out and took a long sip. When he handed it back, I couldn't stop myself from taking first a whiff and then a sip. Yeah, definitely alcohol. Not bad, though. I wasn't much of a drinker. Not because I was a fitness trainer. I liked working out, but I wasn't a complete health nut and didn't watch what I ate or drank. Really, my workout routine was, actually, so I could eat whatever I wanted. But I had never been much of a drinker. I had never much cared for the feeling of losing control. Where others raved about letting loose , it felt more like a nightmare to me.

Right then, though, I felt like I needed a drink. Fuck that. Right then, I would have gladly gotten drunk because all this shit happening to Thrax and me was beginning to freak me out.

This name I couldn't pronounce, the one that sounded like a longer version of Hannah. Swahanua? Suawaanah? Swuhanah? It sounded right and perfect in my mind, but I knew it would come out garbled if I attempted to say it. Like when you know the sound of a song in your head, but when you're trying to sing it to someone to help you name it, it comes out all wrong. Anyway, that name unnerved me on a level I could not pinpoint. It set goose bumps all over my flesh, made me shiver on the inside, and yet filled me with warmth and… longing.

Yeah, I was about ready to totally freak out.

"You okay?" I asked Thrax, needing some resemblance of civility and rationality. Please tell me something is hurting you or that you're hungry or need a shower. Anything so we don't have to talk about you calling out this woman's name that sounded like mine but wasn't, or you stopping breathing, or my damn marks going haywire when you were right there ! my mind pleaded.

"No," he replied, holding out his hand for the bottle. Good, getting drunk was high on my list. Definitely higher than soulmates and soulmarks and crap like that.

"Well?" I tried to draw more out of him, but he remained stoically silent. I took another sip, savoring how the liquid burned down my throat. This stuff was more potent than anything I had tried on Earth . I should take it easy , I thought before taking another long swallow.

"I can't." Thrax looked up. It was probably my imagination, but I could have sworn his eyes were bloodshot, which should be impossible as they were totally black. "Every time I try to remember something, my head feels like it's going to split open."

"Remember what?" I asked.

"Anything about my past."

I frowned, sitting down on the edge of the beanbag recliner thing he was still lying on. "I don't understand."

"I dreamed," he said, confusing me even more. "I had a dream, but I can't remember. If I try, my head splits."

Part of what he said made sense. "I know that feeling. It's right on the tip of your tongue, but you can't put it in words." My frown deepened. "It's irritating but not head-splitting."

"For me, it is." His voice sounded defeated, not like him at all. "I don't have any memories of anything other than the last twentyish years of my life, working as a Space Guardian. "

We'd thrown around that topic before. I remembered now. That was when the whole idea of lab babies came up. He hadn't taken it that badly when we talked about it earlier. Was this troubling him now? Or was it a combination of all the other shit?

"The thing is"—he took a deep breath—"in here"—his fist bumped against his chest where his heart was protected—"I know I had a life before."

"You do?" Why did that surprise me?

He nodded. " Suahaana."

That name again.

I clenched my fists.

"Who is she?"

"I don't know. I only know that it hurts"—he touched his chest again—"when I think about her. A lot."

My nails dug into the soft part of my palms, but I didn't even register the pain as fury flushed through me. Suahaana had to be a girl, right? A woman? His wife?

But why the hell did that thought bother me that much?

Because he's supposed to be mine , rushed, unbidden, through my head.

Whoa!

I rose from the chair and walked to the large floor-to-ceiling window that didn't show anything other than pitch black. Just as pitch black as my mind felt.

What good are those stupid mating marks when he's pining for another woman?

I didn't even know why this upset me. It wasn't like we were lovers or anything. Most of the time he was annoying as hell anyway.

"Are we still going to Ohrur?" I asked.

When he didn't answer, I turned to find him sitting at the edge of the beanbag, his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. A surge of pity flooded me. Followed by guilt .

All I had done so far was think about myself. How Earth was being destroyed by the Cryons, how I and so many others had been taken, how I didn't want to be a colonist, how I didn't like the mating marks, I, I, I.

Not once had I stopped to think about how he felt about any of this. He had been a man with a purpose, a Space Guardian. Now he had mating marks, was questioning his existence, was out of a job, was hunted by his ex-employers, and was mourning someone he couldn't even remember.

I stepped to his side. "I'm sorry."

He lifted his head. His face was contorted with anguish. "About what?"

"Everything," I replied because I was a coward and didn't want to go into all the details of how sorry I was about everything that was affecting him now because he had helped me.

He shook his head. "It's not your fault."

"No?" I snorted in disbelief. "How in the world can it not be my fault? If you hadn't helped me, you wouldn't be here ." Exasperated, I encompassed the ship with my arms, meaning prisoners on our way to his ex-boss.

"You might have been a catalyst, but you're not the source," he replied. "You might have sped things up, but this"—he raised his hands helplessly, indicating the same mess I had before—"would have come to me either way. At least now I'm somewhat prepared. Have some sort of a plan."

"Which is?" I would have loved to have a plan.

"We'll get Possedion as intended, and he'll give us the answers we need. He has to know what these mean and how we can get rid of them." This time, he indicated his marks, and I winced as if he had hit me.