3. Clair #3
“No, you expressly told me never to touch your analyzer. You never got around to telling me what I couldn't put in it.”
“That is not a meaningful distinction!” Kaelus growled.
“It is if we're being technical,” she pointed out.
Kaelus made a sound deep in his throat that was somewhere between a growl and a groan of exasperation.
Clair had the distinct feeling he was about to cuss her out—or whatever the Kindred equivalent of that might be—but then the machine chimed again and a line of text appeared beneath the two molecular models.
SECONDARY COMPOUND DETECTED. STRUCTURAL ALTERATION OCCURRING.
Kaelus closed his mouth and leaned closer, staring at the models.
Clair forgot all about their argument.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Look!”
They both moved toward the analyzer at the same time and their shoulders bumped.
Kaelus immediately stepped back but Clair barely noticed. She leaned closer to the display.
“There.” She pointed to the golden molecular cluster. “That's the compound I couldn't isolate on my equipment. It wasn't showing up at all until I ran the living sample.”
Kaelus frowned, all his anger abruptly replaced by intense concentration.
“The molecular structure is unstable,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble.
Clair nodded.
“I know. Look at the decay rate!”
He moved beside her again, one massive hand reaching around her to adjust the display. The blue compound expanded until Clair could see every molecular bond.
“This is not simple degradation,” he murmured.
“No.” Clair felt a thrill of excitement rush through her. “It's changing.”
Kaelus was silent as he selected another option. At his touch, a stream of data appeared on the screen.
“The original compound is reacting with biological enzymes inside the petal,” he said, sounding awed.
“Exactly!” Clair leaned closer.
The argument was completely forgotten now—replaced by the wonder of a new discovery. This was the part of science she loved—the moment when something impossible suddenly began to make sense.
“The flower isn't producing the medicinal compound directly,” she said excitedly. “It's producing a precursor.”
Kaelus nodded slowly.
“The precursor is almost pharmacologically inert,” he rumbled.
“But when the living tissue metabolizes it…” Clair said.
“It changes molecular configuration,” he finished for her.
“And that is the active compound!” Clair turned toward him with a triumphant smile.
“Indeed, it is.”
Kaelus was already looking down at her and she couldn’t help noticing they were standing very close—much closer than usual.
She hadn't realized it earlier because they'd both been staring at the display, but now she was suddenly conscious of the warmth radiating from his enormous body.
His arm was still stretched around her, one hand resting on the controls on the other side of her, effectively surrounding her without actually touching.
His golden eyes dropped briefly to her mouth again and something tightened in Clair's stomach. What was going on here? She didn’t like Kaelus, and he certainly didn’t like her—why was he looking at her like that?
For several long seconds neither of them said anything. Then, feeling desperate, Clair cleared her throat.
“So,” she said brightly. “Looks like I didn't destroy your analyzer after all.”
“No, I suppose not,” Kaelus rumbled.
The moment broke and he stepped away.
“However, your methodology was reckless,” he added, though there was no heat in his voice.
Clair put a hand on her hip.
“Oh, for heaven's sake! Are we still fighting about this?”
“We are not fighting—I am merely pointing out that you inserted an active botanical specimen into an instrument you had never operated before.”
“And discovered a metabolic conversion that neither one of us knew existed,” Clair shot back.
He frowned.
“That does not make your actions less reckless.”
“No, but it does make me right. I should be allowed to use your equipment for the good of both our research.”
Kaelus's jaw tightened, and Clair folded her arms over her breasts, waiting to see what he would say next.
“Well?” she demanded.
“Well what?” he growled.
“You know what.”
“I do not.”
Clair gave him her sweetest “bless your heart” smile.
“Yes, you do, sugar-booger.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Do not call me that. I have done research on what it means and I do not wish to be called the human word for dried mucus found in the nasal cavity.”
“Fine, then say it,” Clair told him.
He shook his head.
“Say what, exactly?”
“Admit I was right,” Clair challenged him. “Admit that my using your equipment led to a break-through neither of us would have reached if I hadn’t put my specimen in your analyzer.”
Kaelus looked as though she'd asked him to swallow broken glass and Clair waited, tapping her fingernails pointedly.
Finally, the big Hybrid turned toward the display again.
“The results are…interesting,” he rumbled at last.
A grin spread across Clair's face.
“Oh, no, you don't. You're not getting off that easy,” she told him.
He frowned.
“I have acknowledged the significance of your findings. What more do you want of me?”
“You haven't acknowledged anything,” she shot back. “You said they were interesting.”
“Well, they are interesting,” he protested.
“And who found them?” She raised her eyebrows at him, waiting.
Kaelus gave her a long, pained look but Clair just smiled sweetly.
“Go on, big guy. You can say it. I believe in you.”
His fangs flashed as his upper lip curled.
“You did.”
His voice was a guttural growl that would have scared her if it came from any other male.
But Kindred were known not to harm women, she reminded herself.
Still, it was a little scary to hear such an animalistic sound from a seven-and-a-half-foot tall Hybrid with glowing golden eyes and fangs—she had to admit that.
Not that she would show even the least speck of fear to Kaelus.
“I did what?” she prodded.
“You found the break-through by using my equipment,” he finally admitted.
But Clair still wasn’t done.
“And?” she asked.
His golden eyes narrowed to slits.
“And your hypothesis that you should be allowed to use my equipment appears to have merit.”
Clair laughed.
“Bless your heart. Was that so hard to say?”
Kaelus rubbed his temples like a man trying to push back a headache.
“I am beginning to regret catching that specimen tray,” he growled.