Guardian Alien: a sci-fi alien romance (OtherWorldly Men Book 1) Read online

  Guardian Alien

  OtherWorldly Men # 1

  Susan Grant

  Contents

  About Guardian Alien

  Introduction

  Guardian Alien

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  From the Author

  Also by Susan Grant

  Your Planet Or Mine?

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  From the Author

  Also by Susan Grant

  Copyright © 2006, 2020 by Susan Grant

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction about fictional people.

  Cover art: Biserka Design

  Male model: Rob Lang Photography

  About Guardian Alien

  To save Earth, she needed a Guardian Alien...

  Jana has one goal: steer clear of scandal while outrageously false accusations pile up against her famous political family. But when her childhood “imaginary friend” Cavin shows up—all grown up—dressed in armor and warning of an imminent alien invasion, she has no choice but to take him to her leader.

  Cavin has never forgotten the girl he met during his visit to Earth, the girl who didn't believe he was real. And now, as a decorated space marine, he'll risk his future to save her. That means staying one step ahead of government agents, Jana’s suspicious grandpa, and the galaxy's most feared assassin—all while keeping her political reputation squeaky clean. If everything goes as planned, they’ll save the world—and he’ll also capture his favorite Earthling’s heart.

  Introduction

  Dear Reader:

  For many years I wanted to update the story of Jana and Cavin—and now I finally have. But so many of you still love the original 2006 version, I have included it here as well in one convenient volume. Read whichever version you like—or both!

  You keep me flying…

  Susan

  Guardian Alien

  “Ask not what your planet can do for you—ask what you can do for your planet.” —Senator Jana Jasper

  Chapter One

  Prime-Major Cavin Caydinn feared he was one miscalculation away from becoming a fireball.

  A molten-orange glare engulfed his damaged spacecraft. Sweat crawled down his face. He gripped the control stick in his gloved fists, forcing the nose of his ship down, down, down. Right there. There’s the sweet spot. But if he failed to nail the entry vector, he’d crash and burn.

  Or, forget the crash. He’d just burn, arcing across the night sky in a brief, brilliant “Look, Marge! A shooting star” flare of light. Either alternative complicated his plans to arrive on Earth undetected—and undamaged.

  Messages scrolled inside his visor: SHIELDS: 87%. But holding. Without that cloaking, he risked alerting Earth’s planetary defenses, meager as they were. He risked being captured or killed before he could warn Jana of the invasion.

  He risked losing his last chance to find her, to hold her, to convince her why they never should have been torn from each other all those years ago.

  His pulse whoosh-whooshed in his ears. Even the nano-bots in his body that optimized his biological processes, repaired damage, and prevented disease couldn’t eliminate waves of vertigo. Nose down—keep it there. Pushed to its limits, his ship shuddered and shook like a rookie spacer in his first battle.

  He’d survived worse as a Coalition Marine, engaged in combat against squads of bloodthirsty Imperial fighters.

  In combat, yes. Not at a remote jump node exit in unclaimed space. Who the hells had ambushed him? An Imperial scout? Pirates?

  It had been a small craft, its origins well cloaked. Yet despite this old bucket’s minimal defenses, despite the damage wreaked by the energy beam, and despite having been caught by surprise, he’d gotten in a lucky shot. His attacker disappeared, whirling away in a burst of blinding energy.

  Now all he had to do was avoid playing Follow the Leader into a death spin.

  For luck, Cavin swiped his hand across the breastplate of his exo-armor over the spot where a necklace hung hidden from view. Most warriors carried a good-luck charm or a talisman. His had understandably earned some curious and sometimes amused glances, but the charm meant more to him than good luck. It symbolized his boyhood vow to protect Jana Jasper.

  From his own people.

  If he unloaded some weight, the damaged ship would be easier to control. “Main atmospheric full rods—eject,” he said.

  “CONFIRM COMMAND: EJECT MAIN ATMOSPHERIC FUEL RODS.”

  Cavin tightened his grip on the control stick. Did the old AIs have to use that maddeningly condescending “Have you lost your mind, pilot?” tone in times like this? It was annoying as hells. “Affirmative. Eject main fuel rods.”

  All four heavy canisters tumbled into space. The two spare fuel rods contained enough juice for one landing and one launch. If he had to jettison them too, well, the escape pod was his last option.

  One last teeth-jarring jolt. Cool air flooded the flight deck. Other systems were in various stages of functionality but coming back.

  Cavin expelled a gust of air from his lungs. He had many complications to face in the hours ahead, but at least imminent death might not be one of them.

  Just then, the sun rose over the curve of the planet in a glorious arc of vivid light. It highlighted towering storm clouds above a vast ocean. As a continent came into view, a sense of homecoming filled him.

  Earth.

  He’d been to many worlds—some on which he’d battled, some he’d explored, and others that had offered a vacation respite. None affected him like this one did.

  None of those worlds had Jana.

  She’d taught an angry, lonely boy about the bonds of family, friendship, and love. He’d grown up knowing how to forge such bonds thanks to her, but they hadn’t marked him so indelibly as the first—their friendship. Even after all these years, he still felt the pull of it, a yearning to reclaim that sense of wonder he’d lost when he left her behind.

  They never had the chance to say goodbye, but surely, she would remember the weeks they’d spent together in secret. Inseparable. Now that she was grown, did she ever think of him? She’d been near his age, perhaps a little younger, but old enough to remember.

  It matters not. He’d find his Jana and explain everything.

&n
bsp; Fully cloaked, his ship was invisible to an unsuspecting subsonic atmospheric craft. Cavin banked away from the airliner and aimed for the wooded foothills east of the settlement of Sacramento. A sprawling ranch with a pond and a large white house appeared. A large empty field. Oak studded woods.

  His landing zone.

  Jana’s home.

  A scan of the area showed no threats. No curious locals. Good. The first time the Coalition had sent a ship to this continent, it crashed. Several generations later, the Terrans still talked about it. Not much interstellar excitement happened in this sector.

  That was about to change.

  Twenty-three years earlier

  Jana Jasper pretended everything was normal when her parents came to say goodbye before leaving for the airport. She hoped they didn’t guess that outside her bedroom window, in the oak tree, was a boy.

  “Listen to Grandpa while we’re gone.” Her mother kissed her once on each cheek and the lips as she issued orders in her Russian accent. “Do as he says. He can’t chase after the three of you like he used to.” She cradled Jana’s face in soft hands that smelled like roses. “Don’t become so lost in your imagination that you forget to pay attention and wander into trouble.”

  Jana shook her head. It was getting dark. Cavin straddled a thick branch, his legs swinging. He reminded her of Peter Pan—same light brown hair, a cowlick, a quick smile—except he wore black clothes, not green, and always thick boots, long sleeves and long pants, even in the summer heat. If he pressed a button on his cuff and threw on a special hood, he could almost turn invisible. She’d never seen him fly, but she bet he could if he wanted to. He was magic.

  “Jana needs real friends, not make-believe ones,” her teacher had told her parents in a worried tone on the last day of third grade. “She won’t talk. She sits alone during recess, drawing or daydreaming instead of playing with the other kids. She prefers fantasy worlds to people. It concerns me.”

  “She’ll grow out of it,” Dad had assured Mrs. Richards. “She’s just shy.”

  “Social anxiety can worsen over time, Congressman. Have you considered consulting a child psychiatrist—?”

  “Nyet.” Mama’s soft, sky-blue eyes had turned to ice. Her stare had been so frosty and focused on Mrs. Richards that Jana half expected her teacher to turn into a snowman. “So, my daughter is quiet. Perhaps, nowadays, fewer words are a blessing.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Dad had said, laughing. He loved to tell the story of the reporter who told him how grateful he was to meet a Jasper who didn’t talk his ear off. During the interview that day, Jana had ached with embarrassment at not being able to do anything but smile or shake her head to answer the questions the man had so patiently asked her. Everyone looked up to Dad. Now that he was running for the senate, more people would want interviews with the entire family. Jana dreaded it. When people mentioned the Jasper family, they said things like political dynasty and California’s first family in the next breath. If only she could be more like the rest of her family instead of being the one who made everyone worry—a lot.

  On the ride home after the teacher conference, Dad had slid his hand over Mama’s. She squeezed him back. “There’s always private school as an option,” Jana heard him say in a low worried tone. “Or we can homeschool. Hire a tutor.” Then he’d glanced in the rearview mirror where Jana sat between her siblings. “What do you think of that, Jana—being homeschooled? You’re so creative and smart. We want you to have extra special attention that you won’t get in this school.”

  Her big brother Jared lodged an immediate protest. “No fair. How come she doesn’t have to go back to school next year?”

  By then, Jana had sunk so low in the seat that her chin was level with her chest. “Mrs. Richards,” she’d whispered bashfully to her sister.

  As always, their middle sister Evie filled in the blanks. “Mrs. Richards thinks Jana doesn’t talk enough.” She turned to Jana. “She was my least favorite teacher too...”

  A breeze ruffled the curtains, drawing Jana’s gaze outside. Cavin placed his hand over his chest, patting it, then pointed at her and smiled. A funny, soft, happy feeling filled her, and she smiled back. He was her best friend, her first friend. With him, there was no pressure to speak, no struggle to explain what she felt inside, and no embarrassment that she wasn’t like everyone else. Because he wasn’t like anyone else.

  He wasn’t even from Earth.

  “Janushka! Where have you gone? Far away, I see.” Mama pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Maybe you will take me with you sometime. We will run together in your daydreams. What do you think of that?”

  She grinned and hugged her parents goodbye. As soon as their truck disappeared down the long driveway, she sprang into action, pulling her prized Russian matryoshka off her dresser. A gift from her parents, the egg-shaped doll held smaller identical dolls nestled one inside the other, each painted to look like a different kind of animal. She separated the layers until she revealed the innermost egg, a tiny green spotted frog, and shoved it deep in her shorts pocket.

  She opened the window wide, throwing one bare foot over the sill. The rough tiles of the roof were still warm from the day’s blistering sun. She pulled her other leg through and balanced on the curved area of the roof below her bedroom window.

  She made the leap and ran along the center of the branch like it was a balance beam. She’d grown up climbing this tree; she knew every twig. As the branch narrowed, she dropped to her butt and scooted forward. Her legs dangled, knocking loose bark and leaves. She shimmied closer until she sat face to face with Cavin.

  “Jana,” he greeted, but pronounced it like “Jah-nah.” He wore a metal cuff around his forearm. It was black like his sleeve and had tiny red lights on it—strange letters too. It had a screen that sometimes lit up. It was larger than a watch face but flexible like rubber. He aimed it at a nearby branch. A cable shot out, spinning around the branch before it arced away, attaching to another tree. Their own zip line. Hooking himself to the cable, he held her around the waist as they careened over the lawn. The wind whistled louder and louder, and they landed, laughing as they hit the ground tumbling.

  The commotion woke a family of quail. Jana laughed as the birds whirred into the air. Then Cavin tossed his magic ball high. It was smaller than an apple and changed colors like a chameleon. She’d named it Beek after the chirping sound it made when it sent alerts to the screen on Cavin’s cuff.

  The moon rose, huge and yellow, as they ran to her treehouse, Beek circling overhead. The first stars had appeared. The air felt electric. Magical. It gave her goosebumps. She came up on her toes, pirouetting through the shimmering grasses, her arms flung joyously wide.

  It was the best summer of her life.

  Inside the treehouse, she dropped down next to Cavin, cross legged, and she slipped her fingers into his hand.

  “I’m going to marry him,” she’d tried telling Evie at the beginning of the summer.

  “You can’t marry an imaginary boy.”

  “He’s not imaginary. He’s magic—like Peter Pan.”

  “Same thing.” Then Evie patted Jana’s hand in her big sister know-it-all way. “You won’t feel this way once you grow up and fall in love for real...”

  Like their parents.

  Their mother had a large collection of matryoshka dolls. Each one held a love note from Dad in the very center. It was, as he always said, the only way an assemblyman visiting Moscow as part of an agricultural delegation had stood a chance at winning the attention of a beautiful Russian ballerina. Every couple of days over the course of a few weeks, he’d send Mama another doll with a new note tucked inside.

  “My marrying Lara was a long shot,” he liked to say, wearing a funny little smile. “But I did. Never be afraid of going for it, even when someone tells you your chances of succeeding are one in a million.”

  Jana dug the wooden egg out of her pocket and pressed it into Cavin’s palm, clos
ing his fingers around it.

  No note. No words.

  An unspoken vow.

  The gesture carried a meaning, a promise that she couldn’t have explained very well, even if she tried. She didn’t speak his language, and he didn’t know English.

  His gaze was deep and dark as he pressed his fist to his chest, the frog inside his hand. Then he dipped his head as if saying yes.

  “Beek!” The ball plunged into Cavin’s hand and went dark.

  “Jana!” A man’s voice bellowed distantly. “Jana!”

  Eyes wide, Cavin jumped up, pulling her to her feet.

  “Go, go,” Jana whispered harshly.

  Cavin took her face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her pursed lips, his breath warm. Fierce and innocent, the kiss caused a giddy, cartwheeling heart-flip she’d never felt before.

  Throwing his magic hood over his head, he jumped down from the treehouse and escaped into the woods.

  “Jana!” The beam of a flashlight approached, arcing back and forth. “There you are. You scared me, girl. Scared me good.” Her grandfather stopped, clutching his chest, wheezing.