Page 39 of Salvation for the Alien Mercenary
His fingers wrapped around cold metal, muscles bunching in anticipation. The additional weight should've strained his shoulders and chest, but the barbell rose smoothly. Covak's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You've been holding out on me, pretty boy,” the Vorrtan commented lightly.
Davis ignored him, focusing on controlled breathing. One, two, three. His arms should've been burning, screaming, failing by now, but instead they felt energized, like the exercise fed something within them rather than depleting them. He counted in his head. Three more and he was done.
Across the gym, Jesh guided Mira through defensive stances, quick movements, unrefined but promising. When Jesh positioned herself behind Mira to adjust her arm position, his fingers tightened around the barbell until his knuckles whitened and he lost count. Fuck.
"Your heart rate just spiked," Covak drawled.
"Can you not?" he growled, slamming another rep out.
Covak tapped his nose. "Enhanced senses, remember? You reek of territorial male."
He sat up, shoving the barbell onto the hooks with enough force to make the frame shake. Mira glanced over for a second before Jesh caught her attention with another instruction.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, snatching a towel from beside the bench.
"Sure you don't." Covak leaned against the wall next to the bench, arms folded across his massive chest. "Just like I don't want to snap the neck of anyone who looks at Jesh wrong."
Davis stared at him. "That's different."
"Is it?" Covak's expression dropped serious. "My entire species was engineered for war. Combat, protection, possession, it's in our blood." He nodded across the gym. "But that doesn't mean Jesh needs me hovering over her, or that she's not capable of crushing most threats herself."
Davis watched as Mira moved through a counter-strike against Jesh with unexpected speed.
"Jesh could fold you into a pretzel if she wanted to," he said.
Covak tilted his head to one side. "What’s a 'pretzel'?"
"Earth food. Twisted bread." His eyes locked on the curve of Mira's spine as she pivoted into another stance. Then she dropped to her ass. "The point is, Jesh is probably more dangerous than you are."
"Probably," Covak agreed cheerfully. "The mate bond doesn't care about logic, Tell. It's about instinct." He tapped his forehead. "Smart males learn to use this to override that. Women have the hots for men who respect their capabilities, not ones who treat them like porcelain."
Davis snorted. "So now you're a relationship expert?"
"I'm bonded," Covak said, chest puffing out with pride. “And you're what... stalking?"
"Fuck off."
Covak grinned and gestured to the bench. "Another set. Get your head in the game this time."
Davis slid under the bar again, feeling the cool metal against his palms. As he lifted, his mind flashed to the observation lounge. Mira beneath him, her back arching, breathless gasps as she came apart under his hands and mouth. Heat surged low in his abdomen. Her taste lingered on his tongue, sweet and addictive. The memory of her eyes after, heavy-lidded and satisfied, lips swollen from his kisses. Ryke's damn comm call interrupting just as?—
Next time he'd turn his bloody comm off so they wouldn't be interrupted. And he'd take his time with every inch of her until she trembled and begged and?—
“You're growling," Covak said. “I didn’t know humans could do that.”
He blinked, suddenly aware of the rumble in his chest. Clearing his throat, he focused on his breathing.
"Just concentrating," he muttered.
Covak snickered, the sound a deep rumble. “Sure. If that's what humans call it."
Davis channeled his frustration into the workout, even though the weights felt too light. He’d have to up his weights next time.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Mira duck under Jesh's extended arm, coming up in a defensive stance. Her face flushed with exertion, and triumph lit up her smile when Jesh nodded approval. His chest swelled with something like pride.
Mine.
