by Karen Kelley
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
He rested his elbows on his knees and studied every angle of the board. She would be a good opponent.
“Are you going to move or do you give up?” she said, breaking his concentration.
“What?”
“You’ve been studying the board for ten minutes.”
He glanced at the clock on the wall. Actually, it had only been nine. He looked back at the board again, then made his move.
She studied the board, then moved. He only took a few minutes this time. She was falling into his trap just as he planned. She moved. He moved. One more and he’d have her. She jumped the rest of his checkers and scooped them off the board.
How the hell had she done that? He looked at the board and immediately realized where he’d made a wrong move. Again he had to wonder if it had been skill or luck.
“You’re not very good at checkers, are you?” she gloated.
“You got lucky.”
“Sore loser?”
“You won’t win the next one.”
Five games later, and nearing eleven on the wall clock, Lyraka had won three out of five games. Maybe it hadn’t been dumb luck. She was pretty good at figuring out her opponent’s strategy.
She stood, stretching her arms above her head, revealing an expanse of creamy skin and a sexy little belly button. The only things going through his mind were how soft her skin actually felt, and how it was all he could do to restrain himself from pulling her into his lap and kissing her into submission.
“I’m beat,” she said. “It’s been a long day, and you did say we’d start at six.”
He wouldn’t tell her he’d already started his evaluation of her with the games of checkers they’d played. There were more ways to see how a person ticked than answering silly questions on a form some doctor made up when he was bored and didn’t have anything better to do. No, Roan had his own way of doing things.
“Yes, six. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.
She nodded as she headed for the stairs. Man, she had a nice walk. There was just enough sway in her hips to heat his blood. Her tight jeans hugged her ass in a way that made him almost jealous.
Damn, how the hell did Joe expect him to stay here in an isolated building, alone at night, with a woman who looked hot and sexy, and not touch her? Especially now that he knew she wasn’t repulsed by him. The situation was almost impossible. If it wasn’t for the fact that Joe had promised to let him return to active duty, Roan would have insisted someone else train Lyraka.
His problem wasn’t that he wanted to make love to her, that was pretty much inevitable. No, his problem was not knowing how long he could survive until he did sleep with her.
Things were going to get complicated.
He put away the game board and the checkers, then went to the front door and stepped out. The night air was cool and crisp. So different from the city noises. A coyote howled, a deeply mournful sound. Roan took a couple of deep breaths, then went back inside and locked the door before going up to his room to get ready for bed.
He wore pajama bottoms, but that was all, and only because of Lyraka just in case something happened and he had to hurry from the room. He didn’t want to send her into shock.
He picked up the manila envelope Joe had given him and dumped out the papers. There weren’t that many. He began to read.
Joe mentioned her speed, but that was all. Apparently, he didn’t know she could blend in with her surroundings. He flipped through the pages, skimming mostly, then replaced the papers and placed the envelope on his dresser.
Lyraka had lived at an artist colony all her life, been home schooled by an over protective mother—hell, Lyraka was probably a virgin. Oh, yeah, now he felt a hell of a lot better.
God, he was in such deep shit. A Nerakian virgin. If her powers were strengthened because she was of mixed blood, what happened when she made love? He’d heard all sorts of locker room tales. Some of the men had actually been leery of repeating the experience. He hadn’t paid a lot of attention to their stories. Now, he kind of wished he’d listened a little more carefully.
Had he awakened Lyraka’s sexual drive?
He dragged his fingers through his hair. Man, coming on to her in the woods had been low. Her Nerakian side had been hot and bothered in record time. Crap, not one day had passed and he’d already made a mess of things.
He sat on the side of his bed. Heat washed over him. He’d enjoyed kissing her, and it had been nice the way her breast had fit perfectly in the palm of his hand.
Go to sleep, Roan. Forget about her.
The little voice inside his head was right. He didn’t want to get mixed up with a Nerakian, even if she was half earthling. They only spelled trouble as far as he was concerned.
He switched off the light, then lay back in the bed and closed his eyes, but sleep was a long time coming. When he did finally fall asleep, he dreamt of Lyraka and her naked body pressed against his, her hands roaming over his naked skin, drawing him closer before spreading her thighs in open invitation.
Sometime during the night Roan woke and reached for her, only to find that side of the bed empty. He cursed, flopped to his other side and closed his eyes as he prayed for peaceful sleep without visions of Lyraka.
Except it didn’t happen.
Roan was in a foul mood when his alarm went off the next morning. He grabbed his clothes and headed toward the bathroom that was farther down the hall, knowing a shower might wake him up. He seriously doubted he would feel much better than he did now—which was pretty much like death warmed over.
He turned the knob. It was locked. He could hear faint humming on the other side.
Lyraka.
He rattled the doorknob.
“Just a minute.”
He leaned against the door facing and waited. A few moments later, she opened it, looking like a breath of fresh air. His gaze slid lazily over her. She wore deep blue leggings that clung to her incredibly long limbs and a light blue T-shirt that reached the top of her thighs.
Had she not been tormented by dreams of them making love? He frowned. Apparently not.
“Roan, you look bad. What’s the matter? Didn’t sleep well?”
“You could say that,” he grumbled as he went inside the bathroom and closed the door. Her expression said it didn’t bother her a bit that he hadn’t slept well. Hell, she probably relished his discomfort.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” she called to him.
“Whatever.” He untied the string to his pajamas and let them drop to the floor. As soon as the water was warm, he stepped under the spray and just stood there, letting the water sluice over him.
Thirty minutes later, he admitted to himself that he felt better after a shower and a shave, but he still needed his coffee. He glanced at his watch. A quarter till six. He’d have to make it fast.
But once he got to the kitchen, the coffee was already made. The tantalizing smell filled the room. Nectar of the gods. He went straight to the cabinet, got a cup, poured himself some, then savored the first drink.
“You really get into your coffee, don’t you?” Lyraka commented.
He hadn’t even noticed her. He’d been too intent on getting his first cup down before they started their day.
He raised his cup. “Thanks for putting a pot on.”
“Don’t thank me. It was on a timer. Frances probably started it.”
“Then bless Frances.” He finished his first cup and poured another, noticing she drank orange juice rather than coffee.
He could almost see the excitement oozing from her. Rookies. They’d be the death of him. Joe had told him all he needed to do was teach her the basics. She wouldn’t be put in the field until he knew she was ready. Joe was like that. Most Nerakians were used for their brains and abilities, rather than fighting. That pretty much pissed off the warriors, except for one or two who showed exceptional fighting abilities and actually were ch
osen for field work.
Joe wanted Lyraka to sharpen her fighting tactics. That told Roan all he needed to know—Lyraka was going to be used for more than her brains. Roan could understand why, since witnessing her speed and ability to blend in with her surroundings.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded as she set her empty glass in the sink.
He watched her as they walked inside the training center—saw the excited expression on her face. Saw the way she tried to take all the equipment in at one glance.
“What are we going to do first?” she asked, the words practically bubbling out of her.
He knew what he’d like to do. He quickly cleared those kinds of thoughts from his mind.
“We’re going to see what you can do.” He set his coffee cup down on the desk. Top secret, Joe had said. Find out everything she can do. He had a feeling sex did not enter into the equation, though.
But Lyraka was definitely tempting.
It had only been a couple of nights since he’d been with a woman, but damn if it didn’t seem longer than that. There was just something about Lyraka that made him think about making slow sweet love all day long.
Yeah, she was definitely going to be a temptation.
Chapter 5
Lyraka was not having fun. She glared at Roan. He’d had her running on the treadmill for nearly an hour. Oh, but first he’d stuck little tabs on her face, arms, wrists and ankles. Then he’d attached wires to the tabs and hooked her up to some stupid machine that beeped—a lot. So much it was starting to sound like fingernails on a chalkboard.
He jotted something down on a clipboard, then peered at the machine again. “Can you pick up the pace a little?”
Murder would be too good for him and this stupid elite force. She glared at him, even though he wasn’t looking at her, and increased the speed of the treadmill—again.
She was a guinea pig to them. A stupid lab rat. What was she learning by running in one spot? This wasn’t how it was supposed to be and she’d had enough!
Roan wanted faster? She jabbed the button three more times and her pace shot up. Oh, yeah, she’d give him speed that was off the charts. Her legs moved faster and faster. She jabbed the button again, then again for good measure.
“Slow down just a little,” he said without looking at her.
She jabbed it again.
“That’s good, Lyraka. Go ahead and slow down.”
She gritted her teeth.
“Lyraka?” He finally turned his attention to her. “Is something the matter?”
Is something the matter? Her eyes narrowed on him.
His gaze dropped to her legs. “The machine is starting to smoke. I’d hate for it to break apart while you’re running on it,” he stated matter of factly before turning back to the gauges.
He only cared about the stupid machine, not her. She jabbed the decrease speed button several times. It wasn’t her intention to splatter against the wall behind her. He was right, she could smell rubber burning.
The machine began to slow. She bumped the button a few more times. As soon as she came to a complete stop, she jerked the wires and pads from her body.
“Is something wrong?” he asked again.
“Yes, there’s plenty wrong. I didn’t join the elite force to be used as a guinea pig. I joined so I could do something useful with my abilities.” Her voice rose with each word. When she finished, she was breathing hard. More so than when she’d been running.
“But first we need to see exactly what you can do,” he explained in a calm voice.
“I’m tired of running.” She clamped her lips together.
He glanced at his watch. “I have enough data on your speed anyway. Let’s move to the weights.”
She didn’t move off the treadmill. It wasn’t fair that she was isolated, then having a battery of tests run on her.
“You do want to join the force, right? If you’ve changed your mind let me know now, before you waste any more of my time.” He waited for her to do something.
It all came back to that one question. She already knew the answer. “This isn’t what I expected,” she said, but moved to where weights were lined up on metal rods.
“It rarely is.” He set the clipboard down. “Okay, let’s start with a barbell.” He loaded it with two weights on either end, then faced her. “Ready?”
“Whatever.” She stood in front of him. He handed her the barbell. She took it, and was fine until he let go. She stumbled into him, her body crushed against his, which would’ve been sexy as hell if the barbell hadn’t been between them.
“What are you trying to do—kill me?” she asked.
He frowned. “It’s only a couple hundred pounds.”
“Only a couple hundred pounds,” she sputtered. “What? Do you think I’m an Amazon or something?”
He set the barbell on the floor, frowning. “You run fast.”
“So throw a weight at me and I’ll outrun it. Just because I can run fast doesn’t mean I’m ready to enter a strongman tournament.”
“I just thought…”
She raised an eyebrow.
He frowned. “Okay, then how much weight can you lift?”
She went to the dumbbells and lifted a five pound weight, then an eight. “Eight is about right. Can we get to some actual training?”
“First the weights, then I’ll go over a few moves with you, if it’ll make you happy.”
She raised her chin. “Yes, it will.” At least she was getting somewhere. She lifted the weight, then lowered it.
“You’re not doing it right,” he said.
“How would I know what’s right or wrong? I don’t normally lift weights.”
“That’s probably why you’re not as tight as you could be.”
“I beg your pardon.” Now he was telling her she was flabby? There wasn’t an ounce of flab on her.
“Don’t get your nose out of joint. I didn’t say you were fat or anything. I said you’re not as toned as you could be.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“The average woman would probably be envious of your body, but you won’t be just an average woman, you’ll be one of the elite force. They’re toned from working all of their body.”
“Well, excuse me that I didn’t have access to a gym,” she retorted.
“No problem. I’ll get you in shape.”
She just bet he would. She only hoped he didn’t kill her in the process.
He proceeded to show her the proper way to raise and lower a weight. She couldn’t help wondering what would happen if she dropped one of them on his foot. Would he buy her story that it was an accident? Probably not.
“Concentrate,” he told her.
“Why?” It was a stupid weight. What was there to think about?
“You want to focus on the muscle group you’re working. Concentrate on raising the weight, then slowly lowering it, not just letting it fall back into place.”
He stepped closer and took her arm, then slowly raised and lowered it. His touch was gentle, almost like a caress. He stood close enough she could smell his aftershave—spicy, a heady scent that made her long to lean closer, and just inhale. Then he moved away, and the spell he’d momentarily cast over her was gone.
Not that she would have leaned closer. She had a feeling he had a major problem with his ego—as in over-inflated.
“Whatever,” she said to cover the flurry of emotions that swirled inside her.
After twenty repetitions of raising and lowering the weight, she wished she’d chosen the lighter one. Maybe she did need to work on upper body strength training more.
He jotted something down on his clipboard again. She raised the weight five more times. What if he kept her doing this for an hour, like he’d done with the treadmill? She couldn’t raise and lower the weight for an hour. Her arms were already starting to burn and ache.
“Getting tired already?” He frowned.
She gritted her teeth. “Of course
not.” She forced the weight over her head, then lowered it again.
“You look like you’re getting tired.”
“Well, I’m not. You made me lose my concentration.” She wouldn’t quit now if her arms fell off—which could happen any minute, judging from the way they burned all the way to the bone. She refused to quit and give him the satisfaction. He probably thought she’d give up because this wasn’t one of her strengths. But then, he really didn’t know her very well.
Roan jotted something on his clipboard, but watched Lyraka from the corner of his eye. Her arms had begun to tremble. She was pushing herself past her level of endurance, reaching beyond what she would normally do. It showed a lot of strength in her character. That, and stubbornness, but sometimes that worked well, too. She’d need that, and a whole lot more, if she wanted to meet the criteria to be an agent. They only took the best of the best.
“You can put the weights up now,” he told her.
When she raised them one more time, he had to cough to cover his snort of laughter. She was probably the most stubborn female he’d ever met. He liked that about her. It reminded him a little of himself.
That was a scary thought. The world wasn’t ready for two of him.
“Now can we do something where I can actually learn?”
Her look dared him to test her physical agility again. She was almost at the end of her rope, but he wasn’t even close to the point where he was ready to stop pushing her.
Roan let his gaze slide over her, slowly, taking in everything from the moisture on her face, to the rise and fall of her chest…all the way down to her toes, before returning to her face.
“I’d thought you’d be in better shape than this. The way Joe hinted, I figured you were the answer to his idea of a dream agent.”
Her back stiffened. “What do you mean—in better shape?”
He shrugged. “Sure, you have speed, and a few other minor abilities. Like most Nerakians, you’re remarkable in a couple of areas. I’d rather be partnered with a cop who has had a little street experience. I doubt you can even fight very well. A warrior who’s never been in a war.”
“I’m not a warrior.”