She didn't see Damian until afternoon, when he strolled into the library from sparring, ear to a cell phone.
She'd always thought him her perfect match in the sparring ring.
Several of the beefy men living in the house were in the grassy, well-lit courtyard, sparring with swords, knives, and other weaponry that looked like it came straight out of the Middle Ages.
He stood before her as he had in the sparring ring, sans any clothing but judo pants.
He opened it before she knocked, dressed for sparring in his judo pants and nothing else.
Dressed for sparring, he waited with Grande and Pierre for Damian.
He took his place on the sparring field, and Grande leaned close to her.
The sounds of sparring in the courtyard drew no interest this morning.
Talal paused in an open doorway leading to a large, green field behind the dwelling occupied by hundreds, perhaps thousands, of warriors organized into sparring groups of four and five.
Two men populated each circle, sparring with each other, while the other two or three watched.
The next morning, she went to the game room after her sparring session and sat the entire day, learning more and more about the game and experimenting with how the symbols on the keyboard interacted with the images before her.
He was sparring with another warrior, his fluid, destructive movements far from the gentle ones he used with her.
It was more intense than sparring, and she wondered what was at stake with the simple fight.
Sparring lasted until the sky was clear of night's blue, at which point he took the sword from her.
He carried it with him to the long, pointless Council meeting, to his afternoon sparring session with Jetr, to the banquet and introduction of his nishani to the clan leaders.
A'Ran wasn't sparring; he fought for blood.
They'd been joking and sparring and having a good time.
He'd accepted that sparring was the only real, physical interaction he'd ever have with her.
She was wired with a different kind of energy after the sparring session, one that made her remember all too clearly how she'd felt under his body.
It was too early for the vamps to be in the gym, so she stripped down to her undershirt without changing into her sparring gear and began pounding into the dummy in front of her.
The two began sparring slowly.
Damian hung up and looked at his executive officer and sparring partner.
She wasn't dressed in skin-tight workout clothes like Claire, who joined Damian as he trotted down the stairs for their daily sparring session.
He pulled off his sweater then dropped back onto the sparring mat, focusing hard on calming himself down.
He lowered his sword and straightened from a sparring match with Rhyn, whose pewter eyes glowed unnaturally.
He left the sparring level without saying a word to Ully and followed his instincts up a flight of stairs and down a narrow hall he recognized from his visit to their father.s catacombs with Kris.
"I didn.t expect to see you here," Rhyn said, taking in Gabriel.s muscular form as he fought the sparring dummies behind the Sanctuary.
Brady straightened from his sparring stance.
He felt like sparring until noon.
Brady shook his head, wanting nothing more than to return to the sparring ring.
She wore sparring clothing consisting of snug pants and T-shirt that hugged her shape in all the right places.
Until that time came when their sparring became a final battle, she'd learn as much as she could from the ancient warrior.
Rissa, Sirian, and the guards headed toward the sparring men.
By the first touch of sunlight, he was at the sparring grounds awaiting anyone to show for practice.
A faint smile crossed his features, before he returned his attention to his sparring partner.
The woman was guarded, her tension clear, much like those sparring on the beach had been.
Jenn stood smoothly and quickly at the hint, no doubt reminded of their many sparring sessions.
Whilst the reeves are sitting on their eggs, scattered about the swamps, he is to be seen far away flitting about in flocks, and on the ground dancing and sparring with his companions.
After some preliminary sparring between the two - Newman's pamphlet, "Mr Kingsley and Dr Newman: a Correspondence on the Question whether Dr Newman teaches that Truth is no Virtue," published in 1864 and not reprinted, is unsurpassed in the English language for the vigour of its satire: the anger displayed was later, in a letter to Sir William Cope, admitted to have been largely feigned - Newman published in bi-monthly parts his Apologia pro vita sua, a religious autobiography of unsurpassed interest, the simple confidential tone of which "revolutionized the popular estimate of its author," establishing the strength and sincerity of the convictions which had led him into the Roman Catholic Church.
Alarmed, she picked her way through the rows of machines towards the door leading to the sparring mats.