her. So why did she have to prove herself by winning the competition? What streak of sheer foolishness made her enter the leadership race in the first place? Had she really convinced herself she wanted it? Did she hate Jaegar so much that her sole purpose for the past two years was to best him?
Yes and no.
She adored her big brother, and she certainly hadn’t meant to humiliate him. Not really. But it seemed the only way to show them that she was worthy. She never gave a thought to what would happen after winning, or what would happen to her brother if he lost.
Cleo swallowed against the lump that formed in her throat, rubbed her chest to ease the tightness that formed beneath her skin. She pictured her heart forming into a piece of tough gristle.
The need to get moving, get to Jag, fired her into action.
In spite of a restless night, she felt back to her old strength, ready for action. The fact that she’d napped on and off for most of the previous day probably had a great deal to do with her restored vigor.
“You’d better head out, Libra. Soon, if you want a full day of hiking.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Just concerned about your deadline,” she replied.
Cleo turned to see him crawl from his bed wearing only a pair of form-hugging shorts. He groaned as he stretched, muscles twitching and rippling as they lengthened. For the love of ducks, the urbanite was a fine sight.
She grabbed her lower lip between her teeth to keep her jaw from disengaging.
His leg muscles were larger, longer, and a good bit more defined than she’d expected for an urbanite. She wondered how simulated protein products could possibly put that much definition on a man’s thigh, not to mention his gluteal assets.
She bit down harder to keep her from licking her lips salaciously, to stop a sigh building in her lungs.
He stopped mid-stretch. “You alright? You look in pain. You oughtn’t be moving around.”
“Circulation is important for healing,” Cleo replied, forcing her gaze away. She rotated her ankle first one way, then another.
Satisfied that her leg would take the weight, she turned her back to him and headed toward the river. She had to get out of the clearing, away from him. Away from his silvery-blue stare and away from his half-naked body before she did something she’d regret, like blush.
“Wait up. I’ll help.”
He caught up, tugging a shirt over his head, and surprised her by snaking an arm around her middle. When his warm palm pressed against the flesh at her waist, she gasped.
“You okay, darlin’?”
“Mm-hm. I, uh, it’s the…pain.”
“Just as I thought,” he said, taking more of her body weight. She wanted to protest but couldn’t form words. His touch, his warmth, his strength left her breathless.
And annoyed.
She felt silly clinging to the fabric of his shirt, but it was her only choice. His muscles bunched and tensed under her touch, forcing heat into her cheeks.
She imagined trailing her fingers across his bare flesh, scraping her nails—
A rabbit bolted into the underbrush next to her, jarring her from her lascivious thoughts. Cleo stumbled, almost bringing them both down.
“Whoa. Steady now,” he said, gripping tighter.
And she let him. For the love of ducks, she even leaned into him for support, though it was entirely unnecessary. As her muscles warmed up, they were gaining agility. But she limped on for show.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“I don’t know about you,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper, “but I need to freshen up at the river.”
Libra stuck his nose in the air and sniffed around like an alphacat sensing wounded prey. He dipped his head closer, closer, until she felt his cheek against her hair.
“Yeah, I was wondering about that rank smell.” He squeezed her side as his words flowed dangerously close to her ear.
“It’s you, actually.” She tried to match his playful tone but her voice came out dry, breathy.
“Oh
Yes and no.
She adored her big brother, and she certainly hadn’t meant to humiliate him. Not really. But it seemed the only way to show them that she was worthy. She never gave a thought to what would happen after winning, or what would happen to her brother if he lost.
Cleo swallowed against the lump that formed in her throat, rubbed her chest to ease the tightness that formed beneath her skin. She pictured her heart forming into a piece of tough gristle.
The need to get moving, get to Jag, fired her into action.
In spite of a restless night, she felt back to her old strength, ready for action. The fact that she’d napped on and off for most of the previous day probably had a great deal to do with her restored vigor.
“You’d better head out, Libra. Soon, if you want a full day of hiking.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Just concerned about your deadline,” she replied.
Cleo turned to see him crawl from his bed wearing only a pair of form-hugging shorts. He groaned as he stretched, muscles twitching and rippling as they lengthened. For the love of ducks, the urbanite was a fine sight.
She grabbed her lower lip between her teeth to keep her jaw from disengaging.
His leg muscles were larger, longer, and a good bit more defined than she’d expected for an urbanite. She wondered how simulated protein products could possibly put that much definition on a man’s thigh, not to mention his gluteal assets.
She bit down harder to keep her from licking her lips salaciously, to stop a sigh building in her lungs.
He stopped mid-stretch. “You alright? You look in pain. You oughtn’t be moving around.”
“Circulation is important for healing,” Cleo replied, forcing her gaze away. She rotated her ankle first one way, then another.
Satisfied that her leg would take the weight, she turned her back to him and headed toward the river. She had to get out of the clearing, away from him. Away from his silvery-blue stare and away from his half-naked body before she did something she’d regret, like blush.
“Wait up. I’ll help.”
He caught up, tugging a shirt over his head, and surprised her by snaking an arm around her middle. When his warm palm pressed against the flesh at her waist, she gasped.
“You okay, darlin’?”
“Mm-hm. I, uh, it’s the…pain.”
“Just as I thought,” he said, taking more of her body weight. She wanted to protest but couldn’t form words. His touch, his warmth, his strength left her breathless.
And annoyed.
She felt silly clinging to the fabric of his shirt, but it was her only choice. His muscles bunched and tensed under her touch, forcing heat into her cheeks.
She imagined trailing her fingers across his bare flesh, scraping her nails—
A rabbit bolted into the underbrush next to her, jarring her from her lascivious thoughts. Cleo stumbled, almost bringing them both down.
“Whoa. Steady now,” he said, gripping tighter.
And she let him. For the love of ducks, she even leaned into him for support, though it was entirely unnecessary. As her muscles warmed up, they were gaining agility. But she limped on for show.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“I don’t know about you,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper, “but I need to freshen up at the river.”
Libra stuck his nose in the air and sniffed around like an alphacat sensing wounded prey. He dipped his head closer, closer, until she felt his cheek against her hair.
“Yeah, I was wondering about that rank smell.” He squeezed her side as his words flowed dangerously close to her ear.
“It’s you, actually.” She tried to match his playful tone but her voice came out dry, breathy.
“Oh
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