Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

I must be insane , Rudi thought as he looked down at the small human female.

He’d had every intention of refusing Blitzer’s command. The other male had spent most of their childhood tormenting him. His presence brought back the sting of those miserable days—the pointing, the whispers, the way the other children had scattered whenever his antlers lit up the playground.

But neither Blitzer nor the village had any authority over him. This was his home. His sanctuary. He’d carved out this corner of NorPol through sweat and determination, and no one could force him to share it.

And yet when he’d looked at her, her shoulders hunched against the cold, her fingers white-knuckled around the strap of a worn bag that looked too light to hold much of anything, the pose struck a chord deep in his chest. He’d stood the same way in the village square twenty years ago, listening to the council argue about where to place the orphaned boy with the glowing antlers.

He remembered the weight of all those stares. The whispers that followed him. The way his antlers had betrayed his fear, glowing brighter with each passing moment until someone had finally taken pity on him.

His own worn bag had contained the few belongings he had left in the world, and now here she stood, a stranger in an unfamiliar land, with the same lost expression. She was alone, just as he had been. Different, just as he was.

“She can stay,” he growled, before he had a chance to reconsider it.

Blitzer’s mouth fell open, while the two strangers exchanged glances. The female’s eyes widened, a flash of relief crossing her features before she masked it. She stepped forward as soon as he gestured her inside and he immediately slammed the door, shutting out Blitzer’s sneering face.

And now it was just the two of them.

He expected her to shrink away from him, but she simply looked up at him, waiting, while her pitiful boots left small puddles of melted snow on his floor. She was not... unattractive, he decided, despite her alien features. She had large dark eyes in a softly rounded face and tendrils of auburn hair escaping from under a misshapen hat

“I’m Clarice,” she said quietly. “Thank you for taking me in.”

Her voice was soft, melodic, reminding him of wind chimes.

“I’m Rudi.”

“Yes, I know.”

She smiled at him and he had the oddest urge to smile back. No. Better to keep a distance between them. Despite that resolution, his antlers betrayed him, casting subtle golden patterns across the wooden beams above.

She shivered, and a wave of guilt washed over him as he realized just how cold she was. Her cheeks and nose were red from the wind, and even her slender fingers peeked out from her inadequate gloves. Without thinking, he reached out and took her bag, then stopped, unsure what to do next.

She needs to warm up , he decided.

“Take off those wet furs and go stand by the fire,” he ordered.

“All right,” she said, reaching for her bag, but her fingers trembled and he instinctively closed his hands around hers. The soft warmth of her skin sent a jolt through him. He snatched his hands away and she gave him a puzzled look, but didn’t object as he carried the bag over to the small table in front of the fire.

“Thank you.”

Her smile was warmer than the fire and he turned away, suddenly uncomfortable. His home felt smaller, more confined, yet somehow warmer. He immediately dismissed the thought, crossing his arms and retreating behind the familiar shield of his gruff exterior. He’d let her in, yes, but that didn’t mean there would be anything between them. Better to establish boundaries now, before she got any ideas about friendship or connection. He’d learned that lesson the hard way.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Starving,” she said, then blushed. “I mean, if you have enough to share.”

“I have enough.”

She smiled again, despite his brusqueness, and he hastily retreated to the kitchen area, yanking open the cupboard with more force than necessary.

“Soup will be the fastest.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Her voice carried a warmth that made his antlers pulse. He pressed his lips together, fighting the unwanted response. The pot clattered against the stove as he filled it with broth.

“Have you been traveling long?”

“Almost three years in space. The refugee ship was... cramped. Thousands of us packed together, leaving everything behind. But we were the lucky ones,” she continued, her voice brightening. “We made it away from Earth before the solar flares destroyed it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically, then winced. Why did he keep talking?

“It’s all right. We made it.”

He heard her moving around, her footsteps muffled against the wooden floor. He kept his back turned, focusing on the soup.

“Your home is very cozy. It reminds me of old Christmas movies.”

“Christmas?” The word was unfamiliar.

She laughed, a pleasant sound like the tinkling of bells. “It was an old Earth holiday. People decorated their homes and exchanged gifts.”

“Like the Wintertide festival.”

“I think so, based on what I read.”

“You read about my planet?”

He turned to give her a surprised look and his mouth went dry. She’d shed her furs to reveal a small but deliciously curvy body. The ill-fitting clothes did nothing to hide her appeal. Her breasts strained against her too-tight top, the outline of her nipples clearly visible through the thin cloth. His antlers pulsed again before he hurriedly turned back to his cooking. This was going to be a lot more complicated than he’d anticipated.

“The Federation gave us information about NorPol and the Frostarii,” she said, oblivious to his reaction. “I studied it and did my best to learn your language.”

“You speak it very well,” he admitted reluctantly, before turning around to drop a loaf onto the table. “The bread’s a day old.”

She grinned at him. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

She continued talking as he worked, describing the chaos that had occurred when the emissaries from the Galactic Federation made themselves known to Earth and offered sanctuary. How much everything had changed. He found himself listening intently, wanting to catch every word despite his determination not to care.

“Ruth, the lady I was working for at the time, arranged our passage.”

“You didn’t stay with her once you arrived?”

“She died halfway through the trip.” Her voice held a note of genuine sadness and he had to fight the urge to comfort her. “She was arrogant, bossy, and demanding, but she could also be very kind. I miss her.”

Another type of loss he understood only too well. Fighting back more of that unwelcome sympathy, he ladled the finished soup into bowls, stealing glances at her smiling face. How could someone who’d lost an entire planet still smile like that? His own bitterness felt heavy in comparison.

“Here.” He set the bowl down harder than intended, splashing drops onto the wooden table. But instead of flinching at his gruffness, she beamed up at him.

His antlers betrayed him again, casting a soft glow over their simple meal. Annoyed by his inability to control them, he slumped into his chair, the wooden legs creaking beneath his weight. He stabbed at the vegetables in his soup, watching her lift a spoonful to her mouth. Her pretty lips closed around the spoon and he suddenly found himself jealous of the utensil.

She closed her eyes and moaned, and the sound arrowed straight to his cock. By Goldmar’s icy dick, he had to get himself under control. He knew better than to think any female would want him. She was only going to be here for a short time. A month, maybe two, until the government came to their senses and realized that they needed to do something more to provide for the refugees. Or maybe someone in the village would take her in once they realized how... pleasant it would be to have her around.

“This is delicious,” she said enthusiastically.

His antlers pulsed at the compliment. He ducked his head, focusing on his bowl. “I just threw things together.”

“Very successfully.” She smiled at him as she took another sip. “I never really been around snow before but it’s very pretty, even if it’s also very cold. The village looks beautiful too. I just wish they’d wanted me.”

Her voice caught on the last word, and he recognized the familiar ache of not belonging.

“It’s not you specifically,” he muttered. “There’s a power shortage which is making things difficult. The lights used to shine bright enough to rival the stars.”

“Like your antlers?”

His spoon clattered against the bowl. Most villagers pretended not to notice his cursed glow, but she studied him with open curiosity, then blushed.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“They’re different.” The words came out rougher than intended. “Like me.”

She nodded. “Being different isn’t easy. Back on Earth, I never quite fit in either. I never stayed at any of my foster homes long enough to find my place.”

His shoulders relaxed a fraction. Her admission of loneliness echoed his own isolation, yet she wore it differently—like a badge rather than a burden.

“Then on the ship, I didn’t fit in with the rich passengers like Ruth but because I spent so much time with her, I didn’t fit in with the ordinary passengers either.”

“Sometimes you have to find your own place,” he said, and she smiled at him.

“Like you have.”

He hadn’t exactly had a choice, but warmth spread through his chest at obvious admiration. The glow of his antlers softened, casting gentle shadows across their shared meal.

She talked a little more about her past but by the time he gathered up their empty bowls, her eyes were drooping. Her earlier energy had drained away, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

“Bedroom’s through there.” He jerked his chin toward the hallway. “Take it for tonight.”

“I can’t take your bed,” she protested weakly.

“Not up for debate.” He kept his voice gruff to mask the protective surge in his chest. “Bathroom’s next door. Extra blankets in the chest at the foot of the bed if you need them.”

She hesitated, then nodded and picked up her small bag, clutching it to her chest as she padded down the hallway, her footsteps light on the wooden floors. The soft click of the bedroom door echoed through the house.

He stacked their dishes in the sink, hyperaware of her presence in his house. The thought of her curled up in his bed sent a wave of heat through his body that had nothing to do with the heating elements. He scowled and flicked the switch to turn them off. No point in wasting energy.

He settled on the couch, his mind buzzing with thoughts as he stared at the flickering fire. Maybe he should just take her back to the village. They’d have to find somewhere for her to stay, whether they liked it or not. Except...

The house felt different with her here. The silence that usually pressed in on him had transformed into something softer, almost comfortable. His lips twitched upward, but he caught himself before the smile could fully form.

He shook his head at his own foolishness. But as he tried to find a comfortable position on the small couch, that warm feeling lingered, refusing to be dismissed.