large packed dirt pit. At least it looked and felt like a pit. They were actually in the training arena on the NevShoo ship, in a simulation chamber whose effects were enhanced by the skintight suits they all wore. The chamber itself was massive, and the floor could drop or rise to simulate mountains or deep oceans.
They experienced every sensation they might experience as fought through various icy, hot, and windy simulations were transmitted through the suits, much to Lacey’s dismay. She called it her ‘piece of shit’ suit.
She might not like it, but Chel thoroughly enjoyed the sight of his alyah in all that tight fabric. The soft blue suit clung to her every lightly muscled curve, accenting the round arch of her perfect rear end and her long, muscular legs. Legs Chel couldn’t wait to have wrapped around his waist as he surged into her, legs he wanted cradling around his face as he licked her to orgasm after orgasm, feasting on the sweet arousal he could smell even now.
For a moment, he smirked as he imagined Lacey’s reaction if she found out they were aware of her excitement, even when she tried to hide it. Looking at her, so composed and fierce, most would never guess the soft flesh between her legs was wet with need. As she snarled at Gwarnon, her eyes flashing with anger, she gave off the unmistakable scent of a woman in desperate need of a good release.
Orushel and Maoru had certainly noticed but were smart enough not to say anything. Lacy had a wicked temper and a determination that was second to none. His men had sparred with Lacey more than once, and they knew she was a good of fighter. Even without the full benefit of a working crystal implant and only with the primitive training she’d received on Earth, she was lethal.
At first, she’d held back, obviously pulling her blows and not following through with true kill shots. But once she’d learned that she couldn’t really hurt them during training—that the feel suits not only protected the wearer, but also produced sensations—she’d let loose on them all with a fury that was almost incandescent, it burned so hot. Chel knew sparring was an outlet for her, that she used it de-stress, and her attacks weren’t personal, but even he had to admit she was more than a little intimidating when the heat of battle flared red hot in her eyes.
He almost felt bad for her opponents in the Baladium.
He certainly felt bad for Gwarnon.
Lacey enjoyed verbally sparring as much as actual fighting. It must be a common trait among humans, because Roxy was equally verbal when the two women fought together. Chel had actually picked up quite a few human curse phrases watching the women battle through one simulation after another. ‘Trash talking,’ as they called it, actually seemed to be a sort of bonding between the women, one that he could understand. Warriors were often boastful and enjoyed cleverly insulting their opponents.
“Come at me, motherfucker!” Lacey shouted at Gwarnon, her wide cheekbones casting deep shadows beneath the harsh simulated lighting of a Frenghetti swamp. “You told me we aren’t done until one of us ends up in that poison ivy from hell shit. Come on! Stop standing there like a statue and do something.”
Gwarnon remained frozen on the other side of the slowly rotating platform, his balance perfect, his face as expressionless as the statue she called him.
The more Lacey ‘trash talked,’ the more she unknowingly truly hurt Gwarnon’s feelings. Even though Chel had told him a million times that Lacey didn’t hate them, Gwarnon’s life was screwed up by his bitch of a mother and a part of him honestly believed Lacey didn’t want him as a bondmate. Part of the problem was that, unlike Chel, Gwarnon couldn’t really feel Lacey through their growing bond yet. Just bits and pieces—mostly her anger—not the occasional bouts of happiness and attraction that Chel felt through his fragile psychic connection with their future Matriarch.
Chel kept telling his friend to be patient, but he knew Lacey’s constant rejection wore on them both.
“Jesus Christ!” Lacey screamed, cutting through Chel’s thoughts. “Arrgh! I hate it when you go all robot on me. Fucking blink or something, so I know you’re alive!”
Gwarnon’s face didn’t betray a single reaction, his mental shield as high up as Chel had ever seen it—as high as Gwarnon always had it in his mother’s court. A knowing hit Chel in