King sits back with his cup of coffee and watches me devour breakfast. I don't even care. I do, however, notice that the hard lines on his forehead smooth out as he relaxes. I would say it makes him look softer but nothing about him is soft. This morning he's in black military pants and a black T-shirt that molds to his chest. His bicep bulges as he lifts his coffee cup to his mouth. A question goes off in my mind that won't leave me. No straps this morning but that doesn't mean his chest is any less defined. He said he will kill me and I believe every word yet I'm unafraid, which is so unlike me. I guess it could be the food. For some reason the thought of my pending death isn't worrying me. Maybe I've faced my fears and come out the other side a tad bit stronger. Who knows? It's just nice to not have the worry hanging over me. I eat until I'm stuffed and can't possibly get another bite in my stomach. If I were back home, I'd feel guilty about the food I just scarfed but guilt

Cabel, one of my elite guards who was recently married, moves in our direction. "King," he says when he draws closer. His eyes remain down while his wife stops about ten feet behind him and stays there. "How's married life, Cabel?" I don't look directly at his wife, just keep her in my peripheral vision. The last thing I want to do is kill Cabel if he attacks due to his recent mating. He's my size, but I have no doubt of the outcome if we battled and he wouldn't be walking away in one piece. His hair is dirty blond and he carries our signature blue eyes with a slightly rounder face than mine. I've placed him in charge of our food supply until his beast calms or we go back to war. When we came to earth hundreds of years ago, my ancestors chose farming as a non-violent way for us to assimilate into the human population. Our own planet was destroyed because of our violent nature and those who survived knew they had to make changes. Farming was that change. We were a carnivor

"You stayed on the ball when you weren't thinking about your balance. I know how we can make this easier." I follow him and use his shoulder and the wall again. "Tell me about your family," he says as soon as I'm up. "They're dead," I reply. "Most humans are. Tell me about them when they were alive." This is mentally hard on me, but something is working because I'm no longer wobbling. "My mom was amazing. Her name was Dinah. My name rhymes with hers," I add with a quick smile. "I take after her in height if not finesse. She would stand on this ball rock solid." "Talking helps you with balance." "She was in the military. It's where she met my dad." "She was a warrior?" I take a deep breath. "No, not really. She would have died for her country or for her family, but she had a gentle soul. The military was a way for her to get out of her home environment. She never talked about why." "Could she fight?" I shrug and my feet shak

"What's happening?" Marinah asks. "Don't move at all," Beck tells her. Pain explodes at their voices and Beast gains another inch of my control. With unwavering concentration, I force my bones to reknit, the K-5 to recede, and my eyesight to readjust. Minute by minute the pain lessens and my human side gains ground. Beast gives a last internal grumble and pulls back. My teenage struggles with Beast were never this difficult. After what seems like an eternity, I'm able to draw oxygen into my lungs and think clearly. "See her back to her room," I grind out as soon as I can speak with some semblance of control. Beck hurriedly steps out of my path as I head for the door. I don't look back, needing to place as much distance between myself and the woman as possible. Why the hell does she challenge Beast? Something about Marinah is dangerous and the animal knows it. I head to the larger gym used by the men. I'm not there to exercise, I'm there to dest

King's face is so serious, like he's asking a real question. It shouldn't ruffle my feathers, but it does. Being around King is like standing in the path of a tsunami. He's the force of nature that causes all the destruction. It's in his eyes, the way he carries himself, and in his attitude. His name says it all-King. I'm so tired of all of this and it's only been five days. Glancing at the food on my plate I give him the truth. "I'm a human weakling without ambition. I could happily stay at my job, put in ten-hour days, and read at night to keep myself entertained." I glance at his face again and this time hold his stare. "You're dangerous," King mutters almost under his breath. I refuse to back down. "Why?" I ask because I really want to know why he thinks as he does. For the longest moment we hold each other's gaze. I would swear the temperature increases in the room. The hard weight of his eyes challenges me for some strange reason and some part of me w