Page 14 of Guardian's Soul

"Just in case you care, I'm not crazy about that idea either, but unfortunately, we don't have much of a choice, do we?"She's not your enemy, she's not your enemy, no matter how annoying she is, I reminded myself and softened my tone with a sigh. "I have a couch in my quarters." I rubbed the back of my neck, hating the very idea of it, but it still sounded better than spending the night in pain. "I will take the couch, and you can have the bed."

"Hmm."

I started getting used to her glares. She took a moment to mull my words over, testing my self-control once again. I found myself almost hoping she would refuse and opt to endure the night in pain.

"All right, but no funny stuff."

"No funny stuff," I conceded, not having a clue what that meant.

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 soasshole-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 ather. 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 saidanger doesn't help anything, let's watch a comedywhen 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 becomea 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,matedto 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 weweren'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.

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