Star-Crossed

Chapter Twenty-Three: I don't feel alive if I ain't in the fight

EVERY SINGLE MUSCLE in my body is on fire as I open the door to the public library and make my way to my desk. As I sit down and the cool central air hits my skin, my muscles groan in thanks and I can't help but sigh in bliss.

This has only been my first day of training and already I'm dying. Now I understand why-in all on Rania of the Cosmos's memories-our warriors had referred to Xerxion as the "Lanista ab Inferno." Which translates to "Trainer from Hell."

During our training session, he was relentless. First, he made me run. He said he wanted to see how much Rania of Earth could take before she grew tired. I ran twice the amount I normally ran before I had to give up. Xerxion was impressed, so he had taken me back to their ship to train me.

The inside of the ship had been modern, cutting edge. The gadgets and the controls on said ship were like nothing I'd ever seen on Earth. What had been even more surprising than the fact I was in an actual freaking spaceship, were the people inside.

I saw the people who I had briefly met in the desert there, each of them looking at me with blatant interest. I saw others, too. And they did not look human in the slightest. Some of them had animal-like faces, there was one woman with claws and a nose that reminded me a lot of a cat's, complete with catlike ears and whiskers.

I was, to quote everyone in my generation, shook.

Xerxion had led me past all of them, not even batting an eyelash. He had guided me to the training room and it was there he proceeded to train me in basic hand-to-hand combat, stating that he wouldn't allow me to even glance at a weapon until I had mastered how to incapacitate a man without one.

At least, though, if I had to fight until my limbs were like thousand-pound weights, I got to spar with a shirtless Xerxion.

Thinking back to that, I can't help but sigh contentedly. He had a body men spent hours at the gym trying to achieve. His muscular chest, the solid eight-pack, those arms...

There's the sound of someone knocking on the desk to get my attention and when I break out of my pervy thoughts, Aida is standing in front of me. She looks equal parts worried and amused.

"You were practically drooling all over yourself," she says, grinning and adjusting her cat's eye glasses. "I was worried I was going have to call 911."

"Hardy har har," I say sarcastically, moving to sit up only to have my limbs protest. Groaning, I lay back in my seat.

Aida's eyebrow quirks at this.

"You okay, Rania?"

"Yeah, I just had one hell of a workout this morning."

"So, there's going to be no moving for you then, eh?"

"I don't think so."

"Not even if we just so happened to get a new shipment of books today." My head snaps over at her as she grins and continues. "And I just so happen to say that, since your work here has been far above satisfactory, I'll let you pick whatever books you want."

"You're bluffing," I say, narrowing my eyes.

Aida shakes her head, having too much fun.

"The new shipment is supposed to arrive in a couple of hours. Hopefully, you'll be able to move by then." She gives me this false innocent stare and laughs, coming around the desk to sit beside me, turning on the television that's right in front of us.

On the news, they are all talking about my attackers. People aren't buying into the police's statements, saying there's no way these men drank themselves into a coma. Especially since people are claiming that, although the men were drunk, they weren't drunk enough to even pass out let alone end up in a coma.