Chapter 14
Klaus looked up when she entered, his expression shifting from focused concentration to something warmer. "Theo is asleep?"
"Finally. He wanted a full story about Nimbus's heroic adventures." She crossed to where he sat beside the reindeer. "How's the patient?"
"Stable. Healing responses are within expected parameters." He gestured to the medical readout on his belt device. "I will check him again before I sleep, but his prognosis remains positive."
"Good." She settled onto the floor beside him, closer than strictly necessary. "Theo's already planning the world's most elaborate reindeer pen."
"I anticipated enthusiasm. His suggestions will be incorporated where structurally feasible."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, watching Nimbus's steady breathing. The workshop smelled of sawdust and oil, familiar scents that spoke of work and purpose.
"Thank you," she said quietly, and his attention shifted to her.
"For?"
"For giving Theo something to care about. He's been so lost since Sarah and Willem died. But tonight at dinner..." Her voice caught. "That was the first time in months I've seen him genuinely happy."
"I did not save Nimbus for Theo's benefit."
"I know. But the result is the same." She leaned her shoulder against his, taking comfort in his solid warmth. "You're good for him. For both of us."
He went very still. "Talia—"
"I'm not asking for promises. Or forever. Or anything beyond what you can give." She needed to say this before her courage failed. "I just wanted you to know that you matter. To us. Whatever happens with your ship, with your mission, you've made a difference here."
His hand found hers, warm and gentle. "I am not accustomed to mattering. Tandroki society values function over individual significance. We are taught that personal connections create vulnerabilities that compromise effectiveness."
"That's bullshit."
A surprised laugh escaped him. "Perhaps. But it is deeply ingrained bullshit."
"So unlearn it." She squeezed his hand. "Or at least consider that maybe your people got it wrong. That connections don't make you weak—they make you strong."
"You are biased in this assessment."
"Absolutely. But it doesn't make me wrong."
He turned their joined hands, studying the contrast of his pale skin against her warmer brown tones. His thumb traced patterns on her palm, sending shivers up her arm.
"I find myself experiencing desires I was trained to suppress," he said quietly. "Attachment. Protectiveness. The need to provide and care for others."
"Those are good things."
"But they are also dangerous. They can lead to irrational acts. To violence. Tandroki doctrine would classify them as weaknesses to be eliminated."
"Klaus." She waited until he met her eyes. "Fuck Tandroki doctrine."
His smile came slow and devastating. "Your eloquence is remarkable."
"I have my moments." She shifted closer, drawn by warmth and the clean scent she was learning to associate with him. "For what it's worth, I think your desires are perfectly normal. And kind of sweet."
"Sweet." He tested the word with obvious skepticism. "I possess retractable claws and confirmed kill statistics. Sweet seems an inaccurate descriptor."
"You can be both. Dangerous and sweet. Logical and emotional. Warrior and caretaker." Her free hand touched his face, tracing the line of his jaw. "People are complicated. Even Tandroki people, apparently."
He leaned into her touch, his eyes drifting half-closed. "You make me want to be complicated. To embrace the contradictions my training condemned."
"Then embrace them." Her thumb brushed his lower lip. "Be whoever you want to be. Not who you were taught to be."
The air between them thickened with unspoken desire. Her pulse quickened, the awareness of his proximity sharpening every sense. The lamplight caught in his white hair and turned his skin luminous. The blue flames burned in his eyes, making her breath catch.
Kiss me, she thought. Please kiss me.
But he pulled back slightly, putting a careful distance between them. "We should work on the toys. Market day approaches and you need adequate trade goods."
Disappointment warred with relief. He was right—they had responsibilities. Practical concerns that couldn't be ignored just because she wanted to climb into his lap and kiss him senseless.
Later, she promised herself. There's time.
Except there wasn't, not really. Seventy-two days, time slipping away while she pretended otherwise.
"Right. Toys." She stood, brushing off her pants. "I finished three more joints today. Want to see?"
"Yes."
They moved to the workbench where her practice pieces waited. He examined each one with his usual focus, pointing out areas for improvement but praising her progress.
"Your precision has increased significantly. The tolerances here are well within acceptable parameters."
"That's good?"
"That's excellent. You learn quickly."
His approval warmed her more than it should. She'd always been competent at her work in the city, but his praise felt different. More personal. Like he saw not just her current capability but her potential.
"I was thinking we could make some simple pull-toys." She pulled out sketches she'd drawn earlier. "Rabbits, maybe. Or deer. Things the village children would recognize."
Klaus studied her drawings with the same intensity he applied to everything. "These designs are functional. We could enhance them with articulated legs to create movement."
"You can do that?"
"We can do that. Your initial design provides the foundation. My tools and knowledge add complexity." He picked up a new piece of paper and did a quick sketch. "Observe."
The sketch he created was of a rabbit mid-hop, its legs positioned for maximum motion. He'd added joints at strategic points, springs for bounce, even tiny details like whiskers and a tail.
"I love it."
"It is merely applied physics and aesthetic design." But she heard pleasure in his voice. "We would need to source appropriate materials. The wood you have is adequate but springs require metal."
"There's some scrap metal in the barn."
"Show me."
They spent the next hour sorting through Willem's abandoned collection with Klaus identifying useful pieces. By the time they returned to the workshop, they had armfuls of materials and a plan.
"We can produce approximately fifteen units before market day." He laid out the components neatly. "Each will require individual assembly but the process becomes more efficient with repetition."
"Fifteen toys." The potential trade value was far beyond what she’d expected. "That could actually work. If people buy them."
"They will buy them. Your designs have appeal and my enhancements provide novelty. The combination is marketable."
His confidence was infectious and hope sparked in her chest—actual hope, not just desperate optimism.
"Okay. Let's do this."
They worked in comfortable synchronization.
He used his tools to cut the metal pieces while she focused on wooden components, both of them absorbed in the process of creation.
She had forgotten this feeling. The satisfaction of making something with her hands, and seeing raw materials transformed into functional objects through skill and attention.
He worked with the same intensity he brought to everything, his concentration absolute, but occasionally he'd pause to explain a technique or show her a more efficient approach. His teaching style was direct but patient, never condescending.
"Here." He guided her hands to the proper position for cutting. "You need to maintain a consistent pressure and let the tool do the work—you simply provide direction."
His body pressed against her back, warm and solid, as his hands covered hers, carefully adjusting her grip. Her breath caught at the contact, awareness flooding through her with enough force to make her fingers tremble, and he froze. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"
"No." Her voice came out breathless, needy. "The opposite, actually."
She felt him exhale against her hair, and his hands tightened fractionally on hers before releasing them. "Perhaps you should practice independently. To build proper muscle memory."
"Right. Muscle memory."
He stepped back, putting a professional distance between them, but his eyes were burning again, that focused intensity directed entirely at her.
He wants this too, she realized. Wants me. He's just better at controlling himself.
The knowledge sent heat curling through her belly. He was always so controlled and logical, but he was fighting desire the same way she was. It was a heady thought. Powerful. Dangerous.
She forced her attention back to the piece she was working on, willing her hands to steadiness.
They had work to do. Toys to build. Practical concerns that couldn't be ignored just because her entire body had decided now was an excellent time to remind her how long it had been since she'd been touched.
Focus. You can handle sexual frustration. You're an adult.
But he moved like liquid grace across the workshop, all coiled power and efficient motion, and her traitorous body kept noticing. Kept wanting.
This is going to be a long night.
They worked until well past midnight, the pile of completed components growing steadily. He had been right about the process becoming more efficient with repetition. By the tenth rabbit, she could assemble the basic structure without conscious thought.
"We should rest." He set down his tools, stretching with an unconscious sensuality that did nothing for her concentration. "Optimal cognitive function requires adequate sleep."
"Just one more." She fitted the final spring into place, satisfaction blooming as the rabbit's legs bounced with an almost realistic motion. "There. Done."
"Eleven units completed. Four remain for tomorrow." He studied her work with approval. "Your assembly precision has improved significantly."