Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“I’m Cadet Phoebe Jenkins,” Phoebe said, trying to introduce herself. She held out a hand, but the massive warrior in front of her ignored it.
He spoke only two words.
“You’re late.”
Phoebe’s heart, already racing from her run from the tram station, began absolutely pounding in her chest.
“I know I am, Commander, and I’m so sorry,” she babbled. “You see, I haven’t been on the Mother Ship long and I took the wrong tram, so I had to—”
“Stop.” He held up one massive hand, cutting her off.
“But I—” Phoebe began.
“When you make a mistake of any kind, I don’t want to hear excuses,” he rumbled. His voice was deep and surprisingly quiet—it reminded her of boulders rubbing together at the bottom of a river bed. “All I want to hear is, ‘I’ll fix it and I won’t do it again.’”
“Yes, Commander Sirex.” Phoebe nodded her head at once. “I won’t be late again.”
“No, I don’t believe you will.” He gave her a searching look from those burning red eyes. “But you were this time. So drop and give me fifty.”
“What?” Phoebe stared up at him in surprise. “Here?” She looked around the tables filled with cadets and mentors, feeling an immediate sense of humiliation that they would all see her being punished.
But under the humiliation, was there something else? Some other emotion she couldn’t admit, even to herself? Maybe a desire to submit, even though the request was embarrassing? Phoebe thought there was. Still, she couldn’t believe that her new mentor would do this to her.
“Yes, here.”
His voice remained quiet but it was also stern and commanding. Not a voice you could easily disobey, Phoebe thought. And strangely, she didn’t want to disobey—she wanted to do as he said, even if it was going to be awkward in front of all her fellow cadets.
She expected him to say something else—maybe along the lines of “if you can’t follow directions, this mentorship is over now!” But Sirex said nothing—he just stood there with his arms crossed over his massive chest, waiting patiently for her to do as he said.
And Phoebe found herself doing it.
She went to her hands and knees in the grass beside the cafe, gritting her teeth in embarrassment, as she began to do the pushups her new mentor had ordered. She could feel all the eyes at the other tables directed at her, but she tried not to notice. She just wanted to get this punishment done quickly so they could hopefully have a normal conversation the way the other mentors and mentees were.
Phoebe expected the giant warrior to stand over her, looking down like a god from on high punishing an ant. Instead, he crouched beside her, elbows resting on his knees. When she dared to snatch a glance in his direction, she saw that those burning red eyes were following her every move, watching critically as she pushed herself up again and again.
His scrutiny made the situation even harder to bear but somehow she kept going, even though it wasn’t easy. She was a thick girl but she was also in reasonably good shape—she’d graduated from the Police Academy just six months before—but fifty pushups felt like a lot. Especially after running as fast as she could for a half mile to make it from the tram station to the café.
Long before she was done with the required pushups, she could feel her arms trembling and wanting to give way but she clenched her jaw and kept going, counting in her head. Forty-seven…forty eight…forty nine…fifty.
When she did the last push-up, she started to scramble up but was surprised to feel a big hand in the center of her back holding her down.
“Stay there for a moment—catch your breath,” Commander Sirex rumbled.
So Phoebe had no choice but to stay where she was, flat on her stomach with the short purple and green grass tickling the side of her face as she panted for breath.
“Your upper body strength isn’t what it should be,” her new mentor observed. “You were fighting to get those last few pushups done. We’ll work on that.”
Phoebe wanted to protest that she was in good shape and that the pushups wouldn’t have been so hard if she hadn’t already been running to get there on time…but she remembered his words about not wanting to hear excuses.
“I’ll get better,” she said, looking up at him.
“Yes. You will.” He nodded and withdrew his big hand. Even after it was gone, Phoebe could still feel his heat, like a brand in the middle of her back.
Without asking if she needed help, he took her by the arm and brought her smoothly to her feet. Then he looked her up and down once more as Phoebe brushed the stray strands of grass off her uniform and tried to hide how hot her cheeks were getting. What was it about that burning red gaze that made her feel like a thousand butterflies were flapping their wings inside her stomach?