Chapter 2
The first thing Klausan was aware of was pain, but as his father had told him many times, pain was just weakness leaving the body. A Tandroki warrior never gave in to weakness.
He took a few deep, centering breaths and tried to assess the situation. The last thing he remembered clearly was his ship going off course. He'd been on an exploratory mission, one perhaps not entirely necessary, but he had been unusually restless.
In accordance with Tandroki custom, his father had arranged a marriage with the daughter of another House.
It was an advantageous union for both sides.
On the two occasions on which he had spoken to Amalia, she had seemed acceptable enough—cool, elegant, and refined.
Everything a mate should be. And yet, he'd made the mistake of suggesting to his father that they wait a little longer, only to receive the same disapproving stare he'd seen so many times before.
"It is your duty to your House, and it is long past the time when you should have taken a wife. Do you object to my choice?"
How could he? Amalia was the epitome of the perfect Tandroki female.
"Of course not, Father. But my military responsibilities are—"
"—of no consequence. You will take a brief furlough for the ceremony and then return to your position. Amalia will establish your joint household, and it will be ready whenever you wish to take leave."
"Without my input?"
"I don't believe your input is necessary. But if you have any specific requirements, I am sure that Amalia will be happy to incorporate them." His father turned back to the papers on his desk, a clear signal that the interview was over.
He nodded and walked out of the room, the tips of his fingers itching—a sign that his claws wanted to emerge.
It was not the first time he'd had that reaction when dealing with his father, although fortunately, he'd never disgraced himself to the point where it had occurred.
As he returned to his base, he told himself that his father was correct.
It was his responsibility to his House to make an advantageous marriage, and no doubt their genetic combination would produce superior offspring.
After the ceremony, both he and Amalia would provide the necessary material to the bio lab, and in due course, a perfect specimen would be returned to them.
A child. He tried to decide if the thought of a child pleased him.
Not, of course, that his pleasure was necessary, but it all seemed so remote that it was hard to find any enthusiasm for the idea.
But perhaps he could spend more time with his child, more time than his father had spent with him.
Perhaps even time that wasn't entirely devoted to lessons and lectures.
Even as he thought it, he realized it was unlikely.
His child would be presented to him at appropriate times until he was ready to be sent to the military academy.
After that, those appropriate times would be even fewer and farther between.
That's how I was raised, he reminded himself, but he still did not view his approaching nuptials with any degree of enthusiasm.
Perhaps that was why he agreed to the exploratory mission.
There had been rumors that the great Commander Krampasarian had disappeared in that sector of space, and he'd set out to investigate.
But then, his navigation systems had gone haywire, and one of his engines failed to function.
He'd headed for K.R.S. Three, a nearby planet that had been explored some five hundred years previously.
Per the information in his database, it was uninhabited and a previous survey had found nothing of value.
It should have been a safe place to stop and let the nanobots work on repairing his ship.
But just as he was entering the atmosphere, the second engine had failed.
He'd headed for the surface in an uncontrolled spiral.
He remembered his ship heading for a mountain covered in a disorderly arrangement of vegetation. And then, nothing.
That was the last thing he remembered. Except…
No. There had been something—someone else.
A female. Not a Tandroki female, but a female with a mane of wild, dark hair surrounding a strange, beautiful face that reflected all of her emotions.
He'd seen the fear appropriate when faced with a Tandroki warrior, but he'd also seen an unexpected concern.
Why would this strange female be concerned for him? He would find out.
He forced his eyes open, determined to demand answers, and found himself alone in a small, confined, and extremely primitive space.
The walls and floor appeared to be made of actual dirt, and the air carried a damp, earthy scent.
Crudely constructed wooden shelves lined the walls, covered with a modest selection of what appeared to be foodstuffs, although they were as unappealing as the rest of his surroundings.
A primitive oil lamp flickered in one corner, providing little illumination.
He decided to remove himself from the unpleasant situation as quickly as possible and started to sit up.
The pain he'd been ignoring flared bright and sharp, lancing through his side, and an extremely inappropriate groan escaped his lips before he could control himself.
He must have been wounded in the crash. Another memory flashed through his mind: stumbling to the door of his ship, his hand clenched to his side in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding.
The wildness he'd spotted before the crash was even more apparent now—a random tangle of trees and bushes and vines that would never have been permitted on Tandrok.
He'd been on other worlds that were not as tightly controlled as his home planet, but none of them had been like this.
It was even worse than it appeared at first glance.
The white substance which covered everything was not only cold, but wet, seeping through his boots and uniform in the most unpleasant way.
He wasn't even sure where he'd been going, just obeying some blind instinct to seek help, but he hadn't made it very far before collapsing.
The white substance had cushioned him, and the cold had reduced the pain in his side to a dull ache.
He'd known he was losing consciousness, but somehow he couldn't make himself care.
At least his father would never know the circumstances of his death—alone on a primitive planet.
He found the thought rather amusing. And he would have to explain to House Androkan why the marriage would not occur.
He found that thought rather amusing as well.
When his eyes had closed, he'd assumed it was for the last time.
But then there had been the female, followed by a few scattered flashes of being jerked around, of trees overhead, and the worried face of a young male.
He also remembered hearing her say something in a language he didn't recognize.
Perhaps his translation implant had also been damaged in the crash.
He heard the sound of a door opening. As the lamplight flickered in the draft, he automatically reached for his weapon—a weapon that was not there.
By the Horns, what further indignities will be visited upon me?
he thought irritatedly. But then a new scent reached him, as sweet and tempting as the blossoms of the rare night-blooming Xylosma, and he recognized the scent. The female.
Once again, he tried to rise, unwilling to be found in this undignified position.
The pain in his side flared again, but he was determined to ignore it.
However, before he could get more than one shoulder off whatever he was lying on, the female was there, pressing him back down with a gentle hand.
A hand that touched his bare flesh and sent an unexpected wave of heat surging through him.
For the first time, he realized he was no longer wearing his uniform.
"Where is my clothing?" he demanded, but she only gave him a puzzled look.
"You need to stay still. I bandaged the wound as best I could, but I'm not an expert."
Damn translation implant. He had no idea what she was saying. She apparently came to the same conclusion because she sighed, then patted her chest.
"I am Talia."
He was momentarily distracted as the position of her hand drew attention to the soft swell of her breasts beneath the plain gown she was wearing.
He was immediately appalled. The last time he'd had such a reaction was when he first entered puberty, before he'd fully learned the lessons of control and restraint that King Moroz had brought to Tandrok.
Forcing his attention away from the tempting display, he did his best to repeat the word.
"Talia."
"Yes. That's right!" She smiled, a slight flush on her cheeks, and patted her breasts again. She pointed at him.
"I am Commander Klausan D'Kringar."
Her eyes widened. "Klausan? You mean like Klaus?"
No one had ever used a derivative of his name before, let alone spoken so lightly after being informed of his name and lineage, but he found he did not dislike it. In fact, he wanted to hear his name again in that low, musical voice.
"Talia," he repeated, pointing at her, and she smiled again, her face so warm and open that he was momentarily taken aback.
"And you are Klaus," she said.
"You are correct. Where am I?"
She gave him a puzzled look.
"Where am I?" he repeated, and this time he gestured around at the surrounding walls. A surprisingly attractive touch of pink highlighted her cheekbones.
"You are in my house. House." She used her hands to sketch out a box with a pointed top.
A residence, he decided.
"House," he repeated, committing the word to memory.
"That's right. And more specifically, you're in my root cellar. I just... I just didn't know if you were dangerous."
"Dangerous?”