Page 35 of Alien Mercenary's Wife
"Tal's been pushing me through exercises I haven't been able to do in months," she said with a grin, testing her weight as she moved to stand. The motion was fluid, controlled, completely different from the careful way she'd favored her damaged leg during the extraction. "I'd forgotten what it felt like to have my body actually do what I want it to."
The simple statement hit him harder than it should have. Here was a combat veteran, a woman who had been in more battles than most people had had hot dinners according to Eris, reduced to celebrating basic motor function like a victory.
"Human women are strong." He kept his voice level. "Takes courage to keep going when everything's working against you."
Something shifted in her expression—surprise, maybe. "Most people think I should accept limitations. Be grateful for what function I have left."
"Most people are idiots."
That earned him something that might have been a smile. "You including yourself in that assessment?"
"Especially me." His lips quirked into a half-smile. "But occasionally even idiots recognize strength when they see it."
Tal cleared his throat, hiding his smile as he gathered his testing equipment. "The next phase involves more complexmovements. Coordination exercises, balance challenges, things that will test the nerve response patterns we've been rebuilding."
"What kind of movements?" she asked.
"Combat applications would be ideal," Tal replied, then glanced at T'Raal. "Nothing too advanced, of course. Just basic defensive positions, simple strikes. Things that require coordinated muscle response."
The suggestion hung in the air between them like bait.
"I could show you some adapted techniques," he heard himself say before he could think better of it. "Movements designed for compromised mobility situations."
"You've dealt with this kind of thing before?" Reese asked, genuine curiosity replacing the wariness she'd shown since coming aboard. “Remedial exercises? Physio?”
He nodded.
"Yeah. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve been injured and had to rehabilitate." He moved closer, and her scent wrapped around him like a siren’s call. "It’s all about fighting smart when your body won't cooperate the way it used to."
"Show me," she ordered.
T'Raal stepped onto the mat, realizing too late how little room they had. "Basic defensive stance first. Normal position would be here." He demonstrated the standard ready position. "But with compromised leg stability, you shift the foundation."
He moved behind her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin. "May I?"
He placed his hands on her shoulders at her nod, guiding her into the modified stance. The contact sent heat up his arms, and he forced himself not to linger.
"Weight distribution changes," he explained, his voice rougher than intended. "You're not trying to match what you used to do. You're building something new."
She adjusted her position, following his guidance quickly. She learned fast. He shouldn’t have expected anything else. "Like this?"
"Better. Feel how the balance point shifted? Your damaged leg isn't carrying full load, but it's still contributing stability." His hands moved to her waist, steadying her as she found the new center point. "From here, you've got options for movement in any direction."
The curve of her waist beneath his palms was torture. Soft warmth over lean muscle, a combination that made rational thought flee quickly. He felt her breathing, steady and controlled despite the physical exertion.
"Now defensive movement," he continued, stepping back before he did something stupid. Like spin her around and pull her up against him to… He cut the thought off.
"Someone comes at you from the front, you don't try to dance around them. Use their momentum."
He demonstrated the technique in slow motion, showing how limited mobility could become a tactical advantage. "They expect you to retreat or dodge. Instead, you redirect."
"Like this?" She mirrored his movements, her body adapting to the modified techniques with surprising grace.
"Exactly. Again, but faster."
They worked through the sequence several times, and he made minor adjustments to her form. Every brush of contact sent heat through his system. Every time she moved with fluid precision, his imagination went off on a tangent, tormenting him with increasingly graphic scenarios that had absolutely nothing to do with combat training.
Draanth.Professional boundaries, he warned himself. Remember those.
