support my government. That means a great deal to me.”
“That government held me hostage.”
Cassandra raised an eyebrow at the venom in Zeva’s tone. Spreading her arms wide, she watched the Alcandian woman hiss with frustration. “I have the same problem today. Only with your government.”
“A good point.” Zeva took a deep breath as she considered her with a glimmer of pity in her dark eyes.
“Oh, save it. I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me.”
Cassandra picked one foot up and fell into a march. Army brats learned one thing fast, self-pity was a concrete block just dragging you down. Frustration was tearing at her control, making the idea of getting away from the current conversation a pleasant idea. She’d deal with her emotions all by herself. Just like Zeva had done when their roles were reversed. At least she might center her attention on the fact that Zeva had managed to make it home.
“Being angry will not help you adjust.”
Zeva wasn’t following her, maybe because at least one Alcandian did understand exactly how she felt. That made it important to make sure Zeva had a clear picture of her resolve.
“Adjusting is just another word for surrender. I don’t recall you ever adjusting to Earth.”
* * * * *
Alcandar got cold once the sun began to set. Cassandra considered the field below her as the shadows grew long and the light began to fade. Her eyes were focused on a training class. It was filled with maroon-clad warriors, their long overcoats draped over a stone half wall as neat as any Ranger training course. Their chests were bare and absolutely incredible. Mother Nature was a collaborating saboteur because the female in her had her eyes tracing those hard muscles with appreciation. The men below her were extreme. Each chest was corded and cut with defined muscle. It was almost like opening a medical book and being able to clearly see each muscle as it worked. These men worked hard enough to burn off the body fat that often hid a man’s strength. They were lean and moved with a deadly form that would have impressed Master Lee.
Actually, warriors. She could see the connection. There had to be two hundred of them, all flowing in a harsh, yet somewhat graceful, deadly form of combat exercise. A sort of a morbid fascination held her there. Watching them practice what was clearly proof of their superior strength when she was currently being held by that power.
But her eyes still followed them as they moved. Hell, it was a single girl’s dream. No flab to hide the brawn. There was a buffet of beefcake down there that any woman who wasn’t dead would want to feast her eyes on.
The face that filled her mind made her snarl. Cole’s face sprang up in vivid color as she cussed at her own memory. A little tingle twisted through her nipples, making her temper boil as she turned her back on the warriors below her and all she saw in her mind was Cole. Heat teased her passage as she recalled just how hard Cole was beneath that maroon coat. His pectorals must be cut like granite…
Cassandra cussed low and hot enough that even her dad would have lifted an eyebrow at her command of profanity. For her mother, on the other hand, the words would have blistered her ears. A touch of heat bled across her face as she considered that. Dissolving into behavior that would shame her parents wasn’t acceptable.
The light was fading fast and that left her with a new dilemma. This one was very real. Being caught outside in unknown territory was ill-advised. But that left her with the only option of returning to the room that she had woken up in, and Cole.
And Dyne…
The second warrior moved through her memory as another blush heated her face. She frowned and lifted a hand to stroke the side of her face. The skin was actually hot, astounding her. Blushing over a memory was really extreme, especially since this recollection was nothing passionate. So what if Cole had kissed her? It wasn’t
“That government held me hostage.”
Cassandra raised an eyebrow at the venom in Zeva’s tone. Spreading her arms wide, she watched the Alcandian woman hiss with frustration. “I have the same problem today. Only with your government.”
“A good point.” Zeva took a deep breath as she considered her with a glimmer of pity in her dark eyes.
“Oh, save it. I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me.”
Cassandra picked one foot up and fell into a march. Army brats learned one thing fast, self-pity was a concrete block just dragging you down. Frustration was tearing at her control, making the idea of getting away from the current conversation a pleasant idea. She’d deal with her emotions all by herself. Just like Zeva had done when their roles were reversed. At least she might center her attention on the fact that Zeva had managed to make it home.
“Being angry will not help you adjust.”
Zeva wasn’t following her, maybe because at least one Alcandian did understand exactly how she felt. That made it important to make sure Zeva had a clear picture of her resolve.
“Adjusting is just another word for surrender. I don’t recall you ever adjusting to Earth.”
* * * * *
Alcandar got cold once the sun began to set. Cassandra considered the field below her as the shadows grew long and the light began to fade. Her eyes were focused on a training class. It was filled with maroon-clad warriors, their long overcoats draped over a stone half wall as neat as any Ranger training course. Their chests were bare and absolutely incredible. Mother Nature was a collaborating saboteur because the female in her had her eyes tracing those hard muscles with appreciation. The men below her were extreme. Each chest was corded and cut with defined muscle. It was almost like opening a medical book and being able to clearly see each muscle as it worked. These men worked hard enough to burn off the body fat that often hid a man’s strength. They were lean and moved with a deadly form that would have impressed Master Lee.
Actually, warriors. She could see the connection. There had to be two hundred of them, all flowing in a harsh, yet somewhat graceful, deadly form of combat exercise. A sort of a morbid fascination held her there. Watching them practice what was clearly proof of their superior strength when she was currently being held by that power.
But her eyes still followed them as they moved. Hell, it was a single girl’s dream. No flab to hide the brawn. There was a buffet of beefcake down there that any woman who wasn’t dead would want to feast her eyes on.
The face that filled her mind made her snarl. Cole’s face sprang up in vivid color as she cussed at her own memory. A little tingle twisted through her nipples, making her temper boil as she turned her back on the warriors below her and all she saw in her mind was Cole. Heat teased her passage as she recalled just how hard Cole was beneath that maroon coat. His pectorals must be cut like granite…
Cassandra cussed low and hot enough that even her dad would have lifted an eyebrow at her command of profanity. For her mother, on the other hand, the words would have blistered her ears. A touch of heat bled across her face as she considered that. Dissolving into behavior that would shame her parents wasn’t acceptable.
The light was fading fast and that left her with a new dilemma. This one was very real. Being caught outside in unknown territory was ill-advised. But that left her with the only option of returning to the room that she had woken up in, and Cole.
And Dyne…
The second warrior moved through her memory as another blush heated her face. She frowned and lifted a hand to stroke the side of her face. The skin was actually hot, astounding her. Blushing over a memory was really extreme, especially since this recollection was nothing passionate. So what if Cole had kissed her? It wasn’t
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