Page 11 of Savage Devotion (Orc Warrior Romances #2)

When I lift the heated metal to the anvil, Kaelgor positions himself across from me, his own hammer ready to provide supporting strikes that complement rather than compete with my primary shaping efforts.

Trust. Professional cooperation. Shared creation.

Dangerous precedent.

The first dual strikes ring through the forge like music of two hammers working in harmony to achieve results neither could accomplish alone. The volcanic ore responds differently to this collaborative approach, flowing into shapes that feel more natural than my previous solo efforts.

Better. Stronger. More balanced.

Why didn't anyone teach me this?

Because Vaelmark tradition emphasizes individual mastery over cooperative creation.

Another limitation disguised as strength.

We work together for an hour, shaping metal. His technique enhances mine, while my knowledge of volcanic ore properties guides our combined efforts toward optimal results.

Partnership. This is what partnership feels like.

Professional and personal boundaries are blurring in ways that should alarm me.

But don't.

The blade takes shape beneath our hammers, longer than a dagger, shorter than a sword, with a subtle curve that follows the metal's natural stress patterns rather than fighting against them.

The edge forms clean and sharp, while the spine maintains flexibility that will prevent snapping under impact.

Beautiful work. Our best individual efforts wouldn't have achieved this.

Together, we created something exceptional.

Heat radiates from our bodies as much as from the forge. Sweat beads on my forehead and dampens my shirt, while Kaelgor's skin gleams with perspiration that highlights muscle definition beneath his leather vest.

Proximity. Physical awareness. Attraction disguised as professional appreciation.

Getting complicated.

When we finally step back from the anvil, the blade glows with a residual heat that makes it seem alive. Volcanic ore veins run through the metal like arteries, creating patterns that pulse with inner fire.

Collaboration made manifest.

Trust given form.

Dangerous territory indeed.

"Your technique shows promise," Kaelgor says, wiping sweat from his face with the back of his hand.

"Yours too."

Understatement. His approach revolutionizes everything I thought I knew about metalworking.

Which raises questions about other assumptions I've made.

About orcs. About clan relations. About the possibility of cooperation across traditional boundaries.

I move to the quenching pool, where spring water waits to complete the transformation from heated metal to finished blade. The moment of truth, too fast and the metal becomes brittle, too slow, and it loses hardness.

Balance. Always balance.

The blade hisses as it enters the water, steam rising in clouds that obscure vision and fill the air with the sharp scent of cooling metal. Heat transfers from steel to water in a violent exchange that determines the weapon's final characteristics.

Success or failure decided in seconds.

Like most important things in life.

When I lift the finished blade from the pool, it gleams with the distinctive sheen of properly tempered volcanic steel. The metal has achieved perfect hardness without sacrificing flexibility, while the subtle curve enhances cutting efficiency without compromising structural integrity.

Our work. Our achievement.

Proof that cooperation can produce results superior to individual effort.

"Test it," Kaelgor suggests.

I select a practice dummy from the forge's equipment collection, hardened leather stuffed with straw and sand, designed to simulate combat targets while protecting blades from damage. The dummy shows wear from previous testing, scarred and dented but still functional.

Moment of truth.

The blade cuts through leather and stuffing with minimal resistance, leaving a clean slice that shows both sharpness and control. The edge holds true despite contact with embedded sand particles that would dull lesser metals.

Perfect. Better than perfect.

Our collaboration produced something we couldn’t have achieved alone.

I offer the weapon to Kaelgor for his assessment. He accepts it with the careful respect that quality metalwork deserves, testing weight distribution and balance with practiced movements.

His opinion matters. Professional to professional.

Maybe more than professional.

"Exceptional work," he concludes.

"Our work."

Important distinction. Shared achievement rather than individual accomplishment.

The cooperation that Heldrik would consider weakness.

But feels like strength.

Kaelgor moves closer, I smell the mixture of sweat, leather, and forge smoke that clings to his skin. Close enough to see the way volcanic firelight reflects in his rust-red eyes.

Proximity. Heat. Attraction that has nothing to do with professional appreciation.

Dangerous. Complicated. Inevitable.

"You challenge me," he says quietly.

"Good."

Challenge keeps people sharp. Pushes boundaries. Forces growth.

Also creates friction that can spark into something hotter than forge fire.

He raises the blade between us, its edge catching light that makes the metal seem to burn with inner flame. The weapon we created together through trust and cooperation and the gradual erosion of carefully maintained barriers.

Symbol and reality.

Proof that enemies can become allies given proper motivation.

Or something more than allies.

I draw my own blade, an older weapon forged through traditional Vaelmark techniques. Good steel, properly tempered, but lacking the collaboration that made our shared creation exceptional.

Comparison inevitable.

Like everything else tonight.

Our blades meet with a ring of metal on metal that echoes through the forge chamber. Not combat, testing. Exploration of possibilities that extend beyond weaponcraft into territory we haven’t mapped completely.

Trust made manifest. Partnership explored through controlled conflict.

The kind of sparring that reveals character as much as technique.

Steel slides against steel as we move through practice forms, we don’t seek dominance but both of us probing for weaknesses and strengths. His style emphasizes fluidity over force, while mine relies on precision strikes designed to exploit specific vulnerabilities.

Different approaches. Complementary rather than contradictory.

Like our forging techniques.

Like us.

Heat builds between us as we spar, not just from physical exertion but from proximity and attraction and the gradual recognition that professional cooperation has evolved into something more personal.

Inevitable. Dangerous. Worth the risk.

Our blades lock at the hilts, bringing us close so I feel his breath on my face and see the way firelight reflects in his eyes. Stepping back would require a conscious choice rather than an unconscious reaction.

Decision point. Cross the line or maintain professional distance.

Choose.

I don't step back.

Neither does he.

Attraction overrides caution and practical considerations yield to desires that have been building throughout the day. His free hand finds my waist while mine traces the line of his jaw, exploring the texture of skin that's been scarred by combat and weather but remains surprisingly sensitive.

This changes everything.

Good.

About time.