Chapter 11 #2
"I will hunt."
The words emerged with a decisiveness that surprised him. The acquisition of food through pursuit and killing of prey animals was a primitive activity that the Tandroki had abandoned millennia ago in favor of efficient food production systems.
She blinked. "You know how to hunt?"
"I possess tracking skills, enhanced physical capabilities, and tactical training in prey interception.
The application to organic targets rather than enemy combatants is a minor adjustment.
" He was already running calculations—optimal hunting grounds, likely prey species, most efficient kill methods.
"I will depart immediately and return with meat protein. "
"It's not that simple. You need weapons. Knowledge of the terrain. Understanding of local wildlife patterns."
"I am an apex predator equipped with natural weapons and advanced sensory capabilities." He flexed his fingers. "I am adequately equipped."
"Natural weapons?" Her gaze dropped to his hands. "What do you mean natural—"
He extended his claws in answer. They emerged smoothly from his fingertips even though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d revealed them—the use of one’s claws was also frowned on in Tandroki society.
Her eyes widened. "Holy shit."
"A Tandroki evolutionary adaptation. We are descended from a predator species.
It is one of the reasons we adopted the teachings of Moroz—to stop the violent conflicts which occurred too often.
" He retracted the claws. "They were primarily used in close combat situations, but they will serve equally well for hunting. "
"You have been living in my house with retractable claws and didn't mention it?"
"The topic did not arise in conversation."
"I kissed you last night and you have claws."
"The two facts are not mutually exclusive." He watched her process this information, cataloging her reactions. Surprise, yes. But not fear. Not revulsion. Merely startled reassessment. She is not frightened. The realization brought an irrational relief.
"Anything else I should know?" She raised an eyebrow. "Secret fangs? Poison glands? The ability to shoot laser beams from your eyes?"
"Negative on all counts. The claws are my only significant offensive biological adaptation. Other than my horns, of course."
"Of course." She laughed, the sound slightly strained. "Only the retractable murder claws. That's fine. Totally normal."
He found himself uncertain how to respond. Was she distressed? Should he offer reassurance? Touch her?
Before he could decide, she stepped closer and took his hand, examining it with gentle curiosity. Her fingers traced the area where his claws emerged, her touch feather-light.
"Does it hurt? When they come out?"
"No. The process is natural. Analogous to tensing a muscle."
"Can I see them again?"
He extended one claw slowly, letting it emerge at half speed so she could observe the mechanism. The obsidian curve gleamed in the afternoon light, wickedly sharp and undeniably lethal.
She ran one finger over the top of the claw—carefully, not testing the edge. "It's beautiful. Terrifying, but beautiful."
"It is a weapon."
"So are swords, and people think those are beautiful." She looked up at him, her dark eyes thoughtful. "You really think you can hunt with these?"
"I am certain of my capabilities."
"Then go." She released his hand but didn't step back. "We could use the meat. And honestly? I hate the idea of you just... fixing things around here without getting anything in return. If you're going to insist on helping, at least let it benefit you too."
"The repairs benefit me. They ensure your continued wellbeing."
"Klaus." She touched his face, her palm warm against his cool skin. "Go hunting. Bring back something we can preserve for winter. Let yourself feel useful in a way that isn't just about owing me for pulling your frozen ass out of the snow."
He captured her hand, pressing it more firmly against his face. The contact grounded him, focused his scattered thoughts. "I do not hunt to discharge a debt."
"Then why?"
"Because the thought of you going hungry troubles me in ways I cannot adequately express." He turned his head slightly, pressing his lips to her palm, and smiled when she shivered. "Because I find I want to provide for you. To ensure you are cared for."
Her breath caught. "That's... that's really sweet."
"It is logical resource management."
"It's sweet." She rose on her toes and kissed him, quick and fierce. "Now go hunt something before I decide to keep you here and make you help me with more woodworking."
He found himself reluctant to leave despite his stated intention. Her presence created a gravitational pull he hadn't anticipated, a desire to remain close that overrode tactical considerations.
This is why emotional engagement is problematic. But he couldn't quite regret it.
He forced himself to step back. "I will return before dark."
"Be careful. The forest is dangerous if you don't know what you're doing."
"I am trained in hostile environment survival across seventy-three planetary classifications. My skills are adequate."
She gave him a crooked smile. "I'm learning that 'adequate' is Klaus-speak for 'I've got this handled.'"
"Correct."
He left before his resolve could weaken further. The cold air hit his face like a shock of water, clearing his head of Talia's scent and warmth. Focus. He had a task. Hunting. The acquisition of food to sustain her through winter.
Everything else could wait.