Dating Outside Your DNA (6 page)

Sometime during the night Roan woke and reached fo r 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

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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 ove r 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.

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"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 chosen 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.

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Yeah, she was definitely going to be a temptation.

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Chapter 5

L
yraka 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 whi le you're running on it," he

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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. I t 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."

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"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.

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"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 i t, 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?" H e 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.

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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?"