AMIDST THE CATS CRADLE - ONE

C H A P T E R O N E - - - - G W E N

To put it mildly, Gwen was exhausted. The holidays had been long and exhausting, but her family was cheerful as usual—perhaps "overbearing" would be a better way to characterize them. It was also not especially pleasurable to wait in line at the busy Cebu airport after New Year's Eve.

When it was announced over the intercom that her aircraft to Laguna would be boarding shortly, she delicately squeezed the bridge of her nose and rubbed the thin skin.

Please God. She thought lightly, spreading her legs a bit, "I can't wait to be back in my own bed."

She stood up, reasoning that it would be best to get in line first and get a seat so she could fall asleep before the plane even took off. She was fully aware of what awaited her in Laguna. After taking a day off, she will rejoin her team for special operations training and fire exercises in preparation for the next mission. The enjoyable lifestyle of a US Marine helicopter pilot. But since she had chosen this life for herself, she could only mourn the physical exhaustion and not feel terrible about it.

With a curvaceous, toned physique suitable for an active-duty Marine but yet weighing some weight, Gwen Neeson stood at a slightly above average height of five feet eight inches. Being a pilot gave her some flexibility that she wouldn't have had in most other positions in her unit, but she was feeling the effects of the effort after years of maintaining her physical fitness. At least enough to enjoy a couple extra slices of cake around the holidays.

All of it is Mom's fault. Gwen grinned as she grabbed her bulky duffle and shuffled to the spot that indicated the beginning of the queue. She cooks so damn great. She thought.

As she waved passengers on board, the woman was standing there looking bored and sleepy-eyed. Gwen exhaled somewhat relievedly as she could already see the large Boeing 747 that will take her home. She adored her family, but being part of a large Irish clan, as her father termed it, might be exhausting if she had to spend nearly two weeks with them while they were continually partying.

In fact, she was still experiencing the beginnings of a hangover from two days prior, which in her eyes was a particularly impressive performance. Nobody in Cebu could keep a party going that well except for Irishmen!

Gwen handed the lady her ticket with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes, but she believed the girl wouldn't mind any way. If there was anything worse than attempting to get on a plane after the holidays, it had to be working at an airport at the same time.

The stewardess swiped her ticket through the automatic scanner and was handing it back to Gwen when she halted for a second, scowling at the screen in front of her.

"Is something wrong? " Gwen inquired, her stomach churning with fear.

Please let me get home, please let me get home...

"Just a moment, ma'am," the blonde stewardess said, not glancing up from her screen.

She pressed a few keys before reswiping the ticket and pursed her lips. The lady clicked her long nails next to a line on the screen that read: Passenger upgraded to flight AR-459, ticket void, as she spun the device to face Gwen.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but it appears that you've been sent to another gate.  It will depart in 10 minutes from gate 34F. You must act quickly! ”

"But I don't get it! What exactly is going on? " Gwen remarked, her features muddled by uncertainty. "This one was intended to take me to Laguna. I didn't ask for a change."

"I understand your concern, ma'am," she responded gently, putting on the mask of someone who deals with problematic passengers on a regular basis and has learned techniques to keep encounters to a minimal. And the system doesn't inform me why the modification was made, only that it was done. But I guarantee you that the flight you've been allocated to is likewise bound for Laguna and will arrive twenty minutes sooner. You still have time to catch it. I'll call the gate for you."

When the stewardess pointed down the long corridor of gates, Gwen understood she was at terminal D.

"Shit," she mumbled, completely forgetting her politeness.

She tightened her grip on the luggage and, with one last questioning glance at the hostess, dashed out in a sprint, weaving past other exhausted passengers as she hurried for the other terminal and gate.

If this is a mistake, I'm going to be furious, she thought, knowing full well that she would merely nod and comply and make do with whatever was provided to her.

She wasn't really a combative person by nature. Maybe it had been one of her initial motivations for deciding to enlist in the military. She had always preferred structure, and she believed that an atmosphere that both encouraged her to always improve and provided her with a set of guidelines to follow in doing so was the perfect place for her goals to grow.

But she had become more resilient with time. That woman was affected by missions all over the world, and despite the fact that she was still young—not quite thirty—she believed she had already lived a complete life. However, it came with the territory. Every mission may be their last, therefore a Marine needed to know how to seize the day. That had been drilled into her rather quickly, to be honest.

All of that was obviously completely irrelevant when she was forced to run through lengthy halls in order to make a flight she wasn't meant to be on! She was slightly exhausted and more crankier than usual when she eventually arrived at terminal F and descended to the gates beginning with 3. She had only hoped to grab a lovely glass of wine and pass asleep while the onboard movie blared through her headphones since she was exhausted, sore, and just a little bit drunk.

The clock showed three minutes till the flight's supposed departure time when she staggered into 34F, where a smiling hostess greeted her. Her gorgeous blue eyes seemed to gleam with concern as she received Gwen's ticket, her brow furrowed slightly in sympathy.

"The captain had been waiting for you, ma'am.  I apologize for any confusion. Please follow me," she said quietly as she led Gwen down the long corridor and into the plane.

"I'm still not sure whether I should be here," Gwen murmured, straightening her back and pushing her now-sweaty blonde hair out of her face. "I was meant to be on the other flight," she said, but her explanation was treated with broad apathy.

When Gwen walked onto the plane, she forgot about her concerns. It, too, was a Boeing 747, but instead of being crammed to the rafters with grumpy, fat, and irritated holiday visitors, this one appeared to be full with huge, powerful, muscular guys speaking. The plane was probably just half full.

"What the—" Gwen whispered as she stood at the front of first class, her luggage still draped over her shoulder.

"What a sight, huh?" This flight is a charter for two NCAA Division II teams. "I'd never heard of them, but I don't mind being stuck on an aircraft with them for a bit," the hostess remarked conspiratorially, bending slightly over Gwen's shoulder to whisper in her ear.

Gwen looked at the woman, who gave her an encouraging gesture, and struggled forward, her mind racing with thoughts. There was no denying that the boys were hot as heck. There wasn't a single man on the plane who was shorter than Gwen, which was unusual, and none of them sat near to each other, possibly due to their broad shoulders and lengthy legs. Gwen could feel her core pulsating treacherously as she gazed at the muscular, well-built men who appeared to be created for a life of shamelessly fantasizing about.

Stop doing it. You're used to being surrounded by a slew of enticing hunks, so get over it. She thought to herself, "These guys certainly can't even defend themselves in a battle, all muscle and no strength," attempting to take her attention off the hunks who were giving her lengthy, admiring stares. She had long blonde hair, grayish-blue eyes, a nice complexion, and a tan from her time in Afghanistan last year. But she was also a US Marine, and she could murder a guy in twelve different ways without even using a weapon, which severely limited a woman's dating options.

When you combine that with being brighter than the ordinary jock, which was reinforced by the fact that she was a pilot rather than a regular grunt, most guys in the service found themselves gravitating toward brainless bimbos who pursued them down at Navy and Army facilities.

Gwen didn't seem to mind. She wasn't the type of lady who would indulge in a meaningless affair. She'd have a large family like the one she came from one day, but till then? She was completely content with not hopping from one romance to the other. Besides, it needed an unique sort of person to remain by her side while enabling her to count on him, a man with the proper kind of character to make her want to have children with him. Having children was not an easy decision to make.

"Wait, where should I sit?" Gwen inquired before proceeding too far down the aisle.

"Whichever one you like most." "You're the final passenger," the stewardess stated, smiling as she closed the door.

"All right then," Gwen grumbled, her boots scuffing the carpet as she marched on.

She ignored the few muted catcalls she heard, but couldn't help but smirk. Jocks, they're always the same. It didn't help that as she looked around the plane, she realized she and the lone hostess were the only women on board, trapped in a cramped space with a bunch of pumped-up, muscular males. It was the strangest flight she'd ever encountered.

Gwen stuffed her luggage into an overhead bin as she approached a row of seats that appeared to be mainly empty, with no one before or behind her and only two males on either side. She sighed heavily as she sat down, her muscles virtually melting into the seat. The sigh evolved into a groan as she closed her eyes, relieved that she was finally on the aircraft and that all she had to do now was get up when they arrived in Laguna.

I'm going to sleep for the rest of my life.

"Miss, I believe you should fasten your seatbelt," a deep, almost growly voice shouted abruptly, just as Gwen was ready to fall asleep in well-deserved slumber.

She twitched as a hand touched her, sending a bolt of something hot and intoxicating through her like lightning. Gwen sat up straight, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Jesus! I'm sorry, I didn't want to shock you," the man said, his dirty-blonde hair slicked to one side and blue eyes grinning.

"Are you frightening the villagers again, Mitch?" Another voice on the opposite side of her stated.

Gwen jerked her head in the direction of the sounds and was faced with an almost mirror image of the mischievous devil who'd startled her up. He was also blue-eyed, albeit his face was a little sterner, despite the delighted grin on his lips. He was sat across the aisle from her, his gaze lifted from the book he was reading. Gwen found herself drowning into those ocean-blue eyes for far too long, and she couldn't say anything. "What the heck is wrong with you, Gwen?"

"But Mitch is correct. You must fasten your seatbelt. We're going to take off," he announced calmly.

“What? " she wondered, dazed, unsure if she was having the most intricate daydream—complete with very attractive men—or whether she was losing her mind because she was chattering like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

"Your seatbelt," Mitch pointed out, holding the buckle end up. "It wraps around your waist to keep you from bouncing around the plane when it meets turbulence." Basic safety precautions and all."

As Gwen pulled the belt from him cautiously and clipped it over her big thighs and soft stomach, there was laughter in his voice, not derision, but genuine delight.

“Satisfied? " she queried, staring at both of them, a flush rising to her cheeks, Mitch seated one seat to her left and the other man's gaze fixed on her.

"Well, I'm not sure. Are we, Jordan? ”

"Not exactly, but it'll do," Jordan remarked, winking at Gwen.

She sighed internally.

Excellent work. You've made a fool of yourself, and the plane hasn't yet taken off. This is going to be an extremely lengthy flight!