Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

R udi’s tools slipped from his fingers, clattering against the workbench, as he heard the door open. His muscles tensed, but then Clarice appeared in the doorway to his workshop.

Snow dusted her auburn hair, catching the light like tiny crystals. The cold draft that followed her inside carried the scent of dried flowers and herbs—Miran’s cottage.

“You’re back.”

His voice came out rough and strained and he quickly cleared his throat, busying himself with arranging his tools.

“I am. Is that all right?”

He managed a nod, afraid that his speech would reveal just how much he wanted her to stay.

She smiled and moved deeper into the workshop, her eyes widening as she took in the rows of crystals. The shelf closest to her was filled with raw stones of various shapes and sizes. She bent to examine them, and the already tight pants pulled even tighter across her luscious little ass. His antlers glowed brighter, and he quickly turned away.

“I learned so much today.” She came over to his side, peering at the crystals scattered across his workbench. “What are you making?”

The question caught him off guard. No one had shown interest in his work before. His antlers flickered with a faint glow before he could control it, and he turned away again to hide his reaction.

“I’m refining energy crystals. For the village.” He grabbed a crystal, pretending to examine it. “The power shortage?—”

“Show me?”

She stepped closer, and his skin tingled at her proximity. The warmth radiating from her small frame distracted him, making it hard to focus on the intricate crystal.

“The crystals produce energy in their raw form, but it’s much more effective if the crystals are shaped and refined. Although even then, they only last for a while before needing to be recharged.”

A smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it. His workshop felt different with her in it. Better. The lonely shadows that haunted the corners seemed to retreat in the face of her bright presence. But how long would that last?

He shifted his weight, gripping the edge of his workbench.

“I figured you’d stay with Miran.”

“I’m happy here.” She brushed past him, her footsteps light against the wooden floor. “Do you have ingredients for dinner? I can cook if you tell me what to use.”

“I’ll handle it,” he said gruffly, but she only smiled at him.

“Why don’t we do it together?”

Instead of arguing, he followed her to the kitchen.

“I was going to make a grain dish with meat and vegetables.”

“All right. Do you want me to chop up the vegetables?”

He silently handed her a knife and pushed a pile of root vegetables her way. The kitchen felt smaller with her in it, but the kind of small that made his chest tighten. Their elbows brushed as they worked side by side, and each touch sent a jolt of awareness through him. His antlers flickered with each accidental caress, and he had to fight to control his reaction.

“How was it at Miran’s?” He struggled to keep his tone neutral.

“It was wonderful. I’m going to apprentice with her. Learn how to heal.”

She chatted on as she chopped the vegetables. He watched her deft movements out of the corner of his eye, occasionally interjecting a comment or handing her a new ingredient.

“That’s what I wanted to do on Earth but the closest I could come was training as a nursing assistant. That’s how I ended up working for Ruth.”

“The one who died on the ship?”

She shot him a startled look.

“You remembered that?”

He remembered every word she’d said to him so far but he only grunted.

“Working for her was my first job after I finished my classes and I was terrified. She was so demanding, and I was sure she was going to fire me.” Her lips curved in a reminiscent smile. “But somehow it worked. I discovered that her bark was a lot worse than her bite. Like some other people I know.”

She gave him a teasing look as she slid the vegetables into the pan and he frowned, then realized she was referring to him. His antlers pulsed, and he turned away to stir the grains, hoping she didn’t notice.

“It was really hard when she passed. I was alone again. I’ve always been a little envious of people with families.”

“I know what you mean,” he said softly.

She reached over and placed her hand lightly over his, not an accidental touch, a deliberate one, and his antlers flared with light. His throat was too tight to respond, but he didn’t pull away. She left her hand there as he stirred the grain and the warm pressure sent heat straight to his cock.

When the pot hissed, she finally pulled away, and he had to fight back the urge to demand she return it.

“Did Miran show you the village?” he asked, his voice strained.

“A little. Everyone is busy getting ready for the Wintertide festival.” She looked around curiously. “Where are the plates?”

He pulled out two of the simple clay dishes and she scooped out the mixture. The rich scent made his stomach growl, but his gaze was fixed on her face, not the food. She had a small smudge of flour across one cheek and he found his hand lifting to wipe it away. Her skin was impossibly delicate, silky beneath his fingers.

Her breath caught as she looked up at him. Her lips parted, her tongue peeking out to wet them, and he was suddenly desperate to taste her. Before he could act on the impulse, she pulled away, and he dropped his hand.

“You had a smudge,” he muttered awkwardly.

“Thank you.”

He hurriedly backed away, cursing himself for being so foolish and silently followed her to the table.

“Mmm.” She hummed with appreciation as her pretty lips closed around the spoon. “This is delicious. We make a good team.”

The words ‘we’ and ‘team’ echoed in his mind, and his chest tightened. When was the last time anyone had included him that way?

His antlers cast a soft glow across the table, but for once he didn’t try to suppress it. In the warm light, her hair took on copper highlights, and her eyes sparkled when she glanced up at him. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just this moment, this shared space between them. They ate in silence, but this silence was different. Not tense, but... comfortable. He was acutely aware of her every movement—of every glance she shot his way and every soft breath she took.

They were sitting at the table, finishing up the meal, when she suddenly spoke.

“Will you be going to the Wintertide festival?”

“No,” he said abruptly, his antlers flaring. The idea of being surrounded by the villagers, of the stares and the whispers, made his throat tighten.

“Lina seemed to think that you might go this year.”

He shook his head. “Not a chance.”

She gave him a thoughtful look, but she didn’t argue, and the conversation moved on. When she started to gather up the plates, he took them from her.

“I can do it.”

“But I-”

“Guests don’t clean up,” he growled.

A flash of something he couldn’t read crossed her face, but she only nodded and wandered over to the couch. He didn’t like the hunched look of her shoulders as she stared into fire and he hurried through the dishes, then went to get the basket and the package he’d wrapped in plain brown paper.

He handed her the basket first, and her face lit up just as he’d envisioned.

“These are beautiful, and so soft,” she said, stroking the fabric with those small graceful fingers.

What would it be like to have her stroke him the same way? His antlers pulsed before he quickly shoved the idea away.

“They’re from Miran,” he said gruffly, then hesitated, gathering his courage. “And these are from me.” He thrust the package toward her. “To help with the snow.”

He’d taken her second pair of boots earlier that day—in equally poor condition—and spent several hours modifying them. He’d oiled the leather to make it waterproof, reinforced the soles, and lined the insides with soft wool.

She gave him a startled look and carefully unwrapped the paper. The firelight caught the sheen in her eyes as she lifted the boots, and his stomach dropped. Had he overstepped? Maybe she didn’t want his help, his presumption that she needed?—

“These are wonderful.” Her voice cracked. A tear slid down her cheek, but her smile bloomed like sunrise across her face. “Thank you, Rudi.”

No one had ever looked at him the way she did now, her eyes bright with gratitude and something deeper that made his chest ache. Before he could respond, she leaned forward. Her lips pressed against his, soft and warm, and lightning coursed through his body. His antlers flared bright enough to illuminate the whole room.

No one had ever kissed him before.

For a moment he sat frozen, then a groan escaped his throat as he pulled her closer, gripping the soft curve of her waist. Her mouth opened under his, sweet and eager. The kiss deepened, and heat blazed through his body, his antlers casting a pulsing glow across the room.

It wasn’t until she reached for them that reality crashed over him like an avalanche. He jerked away, chest heaving. What was he doing? His heart hammered against his ribs as memories of past rejections flooded back. The villagers’ whispers. The sideways glances. The crude jokes about his glowing antlers.

He braced himself for her reaction, but she didn’t look afraid or disgusted. She studied his face with those dark, knowing eyes, then gave him a soft smile.

“Thank you again for the boots, Rudi.” She rose from the couch, her fingers trailing across his shoulder as she passed. “Goodnight.”

The bedroom door clicked shut behind her. He sat motionless, still feeling the phantom touch of her lips, the warmth of her body against his. Every instinct screamed at him to follow her, to taste her sweetness again.

He shook his head sharply. He couldn’t afford to care, couldn’t risk exposing himself to that kind of pain. Caring meant vulnerability. Vulnerability meant getting hurt.

Rising abruptly, he stalked to his workshop, hoping the familiar tools would ground him. Work. Yes. He had orders to fill, time to make up after spending so many hours working on her boots. The rhythmic strikes of chisel against crystal would drive away thoughts of her.

They didn’t. The kiss burned in his memory—the softness of her lips, the way she’d melted against him, how right it had felt.

An unfamiliar sensation spread across his chest, and he rubbed at the spot, frowning. The tingling intensified, becoming impossible to ignore. Setting down his tools, he yanked open his shirt.

His breath caught. The markings across his chest—dormant his entire life—now shimmered with a faint reddish light. The glow pulsed in time with his racing heart.

For one glorious moment, joy surged through him. After years of isolation, of believing he’d never experience this connection, his body had recognized its mate. The universe had chosen Clarice for him.

Then his elation shattered as panic clawed at his throat. A human. His mate was a human who knew nothing of their customs or the significance of the mating marks. She had no roots here, no reason to stay. How could he burden her with this knowledge? With him?

He paced the workshop, antlers casting flickering shadows as their glow intensified with his agitation. The villagers already whispered about his differences. If they discovered his marks had awakened for an outsider...

He pressed his palms against his chest, willing the glow to fade. He couldn’t allow himself to care for her. Couldn’t risk having his heart shattered when she inevitably left. Better to keep his distance, to protect them both from the pain that would surely follow.

But even as he thought it, his marks pulsed brighter, mocking his attempts at denial. His body had made its choice, regardless of his fears.

The ache in his chest intensified, a tangible reminder of the connection he’d spent his entire life longing for. A connection he now knew he could never truly claim.