Page 19 of Charmed By the Alien Warrior

Weird.

Clearing my throat again, I try to shake off the strange feelings that have been plaguing me. “I know I shouldn’t worry, but it’s hard, you know. I raised her from the time she was twelve.”

Sorrin’s gaze softens, and there’s a tender concern in his eyes that makes it hard to keep my emotional walls up. “You didnot have a father? Or a mother? Were you born from an artificial womb like us?”

I shake my head. “No, nothing like that. Both of our dads left when we were young, and our mom died a long time ago.”

The words come out flat and emotionless, almost as if I’m reciting a grocery list. I’ve talked about this so many times—with police, reporters, prosecutors, therapists—that sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else. My last therapist told me it’s a trauma response, that I’m disassociating to protect myself, and she was probably right.

I don’t want to talk about the details of my mom’s death right now, so I latch onto the first distraction I can think of, and it works.

Turning to Enosir, I nod at the short sword he carries in addition to his longer one. “That’s a unique weapon. What’s the story behind it?”

The distraction works, and it doesn’t take long before the warriors are deep in conversation about the merits of various weapons—short swords, long swords, spears, and everything in between.

Isabella leans close to me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “These guys love playing with their swords, don’t they?”

The quip is so unexpected from her that I burst out laughing, a snort escaping before I can stop it. We both dissolve into giggles. The noise draws the attention of the warriors, momentarily putting a stop to their talk of weapons.

The puzzled expressions on their broad faces only make us laugh harder, and I can’t help but feel a little lighter. For amoment, the worries about my sister and everything else don’t feel so heavy.

Once the laughter subsides, Isabella gives me a soft smile. “It’s nice to see you laughing.” Then, almost hesitantly, she asks, “You know, I’ve never asked…What got you interested in true crime? I mean, you’re practically a walking encyclopedia.”

I glance at her, then at the warriors, who have resumed their spirited debate, oblivious to our quiet conversation. “Um, I actually host a true crime podcast.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, I used to. When I wasn’t working my main job at a hotel. I researched cases, dug into the details, and tried to give a voice to the victims.”

Isabella’s eyes widen in surprise. “A podcast? Wait…Are you Mara Anderson? FromShattered Innocence?”

At my surprised nod, she gasps and continues, her words coming fast, “Oh my God, you’re one of the podcasters I listen to on my way to work! That episode you did on genetic genealogy and the Jane and John Does who’ve had their identities restored was amazing. After listening to it, I immediately donated to one of the groups that does testing.”

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to meeting listeners of my podcast, but hearing that it has made a difference, even if it was only in getting someone to donate to a cause dear to me, is worth it. It may have only started out as a way to cope with my grief, but at least it has helped someone else. At least, something good came from my mom’s murder.

“Yeah,” I murmur, feeling the familiar surge of bittersweet pride. I’m proud of my podcast, but I wish I had never had the need to start it. “It’s been my way of making sure someone is always fighting for the truth.”

Isabella eyes fill with empathy. “You’re doing something amazing. Seriously.”

I think of my mom, and suddenly, tears well up in my eyes. Emotion clogs my throat when Isabella suddenly leans over and gives me a hug, and I soak it up.

For so many years, it’s just been me and Maddie dealing with all the shit life has thrown at us. While, I’m still getting used to having friends I can depend on, it’s a feeling I’ve come to appreciate. And I’m determined to cherish each one of these amazing women.

Because I’m tired of being alone.

Chapter 7

Sorrin

After failing to find any signs of the crashed ship in the Vex Grasslands, we leave early the next morning to make our way to the Bitter Forest.

As my hands encircle Mara’s waist to help her into Kaja’s saddle, I notice the way her body stiffens. Her reaction is subtle but unmistakable, and it stirs my curiosity once more about her prickly nature.

I’ve seen her smile during this journey, though rarely in my direction. Isabella can coax warmth from her with shared conversation, and even Enosir had her laughing earlier with one of his absurd questions. Hearing her soft laughter ripple through the camp this morning made my jaw tighten and my fists clench.

I had to stop myself from striding over and silencing Enosir with his own blade. He meant no harm, I remind myself. But the way Mara’s smile lit up her face, how her guard fell for just a moment, stirred something within me. I wanted to claimthat smile, to be the reason for it. Instead, I was left to grit my teeth and wrestle with the irrational urges that keep building inside me.

Maybe it’s the flicker of vulnerability she showed last night when she thought no one was watching. Or perhaps it’s the challenge of navigating the rough edges of her personality. Whatever the reason, I silently vow to unravel the mystery of Mara and to discover why she has become lodged inside my mind like a thorn I can’t remove or ignore.

I don’t think it’s the amoris bond. If it was, there would be unmistakable signs. My eyes would turn gold when my emotions grow strong. My second heart, the heart that beats only for an amoris mate, would awaken. Instead, it lies silent and still in my chest.

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