I'm alive, I tell myself. Pissed off but alive. My head hurts, I have muscle cramps in my legs and arms, I'm starving, and I'm exhausted. Oh, and I look like hell. My hair, which is a tangled mess around my head, makes it appear as if I've grown Medusa's snakes. The whites of my eyes are more red than white and my face is tanning-bed orange. I turn on the shower and tear off my crappy clothes, tossing them on the floor. A good stomp on top of them does nothing to alleviate my anger or headache. My head pounds with each solid stomp and I feel no better for the small display of temper. Nothing about today went as planned. I step under the cool water while rubbing my arm where the IV went in. At least I don't remember the needle. Those I hate. I do a rundown in my head of other things I hate and King is on the list every other item. I hate roaches and King. I hate military rations and King. I hate my period and King. A whoosh of cold
Watching her eat with uninhibited pleasure excited me. She has no idea her government is full of crap about their food supplies. I saw what the leaders ate and it wasn't the garbage they fed us. They might package and save some of their crops, but the best selection goes to the entitled few. This was another reason I respected Marinah's father. He ate with his troops no matter how revolting the food was. The man also didn't have to lead his men on the battlefield. He could have sat in an office, taken reports, and given orders to be carried out by someone else. But he cared about his men, and the manner of his death showed his feelings went far beyond human compassion. But now I'm wondering who exactly Marinah is and how dedicated she is to the Federation. There's no simple answer. I'm American. I grew up on a farm, was raised by my father, and had no idea what I was until my tenth birthday when he sat me down and explained the truth. I listened, thinking it was a joke ev
The room would be nothing special under most circumstances. I've slept on a cot in a room with three other women for years, so this one is most definitely an upgrade. The bathroom is only half the size of the one I just left and it's amazing. The running hot water makes it more so. King spent a lot of time telling me he'd kill me. I saw the look in his eyes and completely understand that he would enjoy doing it. Maybe I've just been under too much stress since coming on this assignment, because I'm no longer afraid. After a night's rest I'm betting my nervous nature will return. There's also a sense here that the bad monsters can't get me. Back at my Federation quarters we lived in daily fear. Either the monsters would invade and kill us, or we would lose our job and be sent to the front lines to die. The feeling of dread was never far away. Here it's different. King and his men offer protection even if they don't want to. I lay back on the bed enjoying that my legs can s
King sits back with his cup of coffee and watches me devour breakfast. I don't even care. I do, however, notice that the hard lines on his forehead smooth out as he relaxes. I would say it makes him look softer but nothing about him is soft. This morning he's in black military pants and a black T-shirt that molds to his chest. His bicep bulges as he lifts his coffee cup to his mouth. A question goes off in my mind that won't leave me. No straps this morning but that doesn't mean his chest is any less defined. He said he will kill me and I believe every word yet I'm unafraid, which is so unlike me. I guess it could be the food. For some reason the thought of my pending death isn't worrying me. Maybe I've faced my fears and come out the other side a tad bit stronger. Who knows? It's just nice to not have the worry hanging over me. I eat until I'm stuffed and can't possibly get another bite in my stomach. If I were back home, I'd feel guilty about the food I just scarfed but guilt
Marinah stomps from the room with an unhappy Boot trailing her. Too bad. He brought his woman and son to this location against my direct orders and he could face death if I decide it just punishment. I do, however, understand what a pain in the butt his wife is and with another baby on the way I'm unwilling to kill Boot over the incident. Funny that seeing him carry Marinah into the room didn't bother me like it did when the other men touched her or looked at her. Boot is non-threatening, which is why I had him on this detail to begin with. His beast didn't come on him until after his twenty-first birthday and even then, he wasn't a typical Shadow Warrior with the normal propensity to fight anything and everything. Oh, he's more than capable of killing, he just misses the joy component when he holds death in his hands. His behavior also didn't bother my beast, so maybe whatever Beast's problem was before, it's now settled and he'll behave and not try to kill every man who gets n
Cabel, one of my elite guards who was recently married, moves in our direction. "King," he says when he draws closer. His eyes remain down while his wife stops about ten feet behind him and stays there. "How's married life, Cabel?" I don't look directly at his wife, just keep her in my peripheral vision. The last thing I want to do is kill Cabel if he attacks due to his recent mating. He's my size, but I have no doubt of the outcome if we battled and he wouldn't be walking away in one piece. His hair is dirty blond and he carries our signature blue eyes with a slightly rounder face than mine. I've placed him in charge of our food supply until his beast calms or we go back to war. When we came to earth hundreds of years ago, my ancestors chose farming as a non-violent way for us to assimilate into the human population. Our own planet was destroyed because of our violent nature and those who survived knew they had to make changes. Farming was that change. We were a carnivor
It's only a half-ball on a flat surface, but it's kicking my butt. I actually feel sorry that Boot is forced to train me because it's a losing proposition. Without King's guarantee Boot won't kill me, I'd be worrying non-stop. Besides grumbling one-word commands, the man hasn't spoken. "One foot," he barks. Wow, two actual words. I'm standing close to the wall so I can use it for balance. My palm hasn't left the smooth surface because I fall as soon as I try to stay upright on my own. "One foot is impossible. I can't even do two." I wobble and spill the other way, where the wall can't stop my downward progress. At least it's only to my knees. "You've been given a hopeless job," I tell Boot while gaining my feet. Yeah, he growls at me for that. I stand and Boot steps closer so I can use his shoulder and the wall to climb the entire six inches onto the squishy plastic. "I'm not even sure what you're trying to accomplish. We've been at it for two
"You stayed on the ball when you weren't thinking about your balance. I know how we can make this easier." I follow him and use his shoulder and the wall again. "Tell me about your family," he says as soon as I'm up. "They're dead," I reply. "Most humans are. Tell me about them when they were alive." This is mentally hard on me, but something is working because I'm no longer wobbling. "My mom was amazing. Her name was Dinah. My name rhymes with hers," I add with a quick smile. "I take after her in height if not finesse. She would stand on this ball rock solid." "Talking helps you with balance." "She was in the military. It's where she met my dad." "She was a warrior?" I take a deep breath. "No, not really. She would have died for her country or for her family, but she had a gentle soul. The military was a way for her to get out of her home environment. She never talked about why." "Could she fight?" I shrug and my feet shak