The neuro-stabilizer prototype required complete physical access. Anya set up a secure workspace on the floor of the private suite, using the bed as a massive workbench. Kaelan sat opposite her, his expression a tight mask of resignation and impatience.
"For the molding, you must keep your hand still for twenty minutes," Anya instructed, preparing a composite gel. "Any tremor will compromise the sensor accuracy."
"I will control it," Kaelan grated out, flexing his shaking hand.
"Alpha Command is useless here, Kaelan," Anya replied, using his first name deliberately, testing the boundary. "This requires human stillness, not brute force. And for the stabilization phase, the bond must be calm. I need you to focus on the peaceful end of the spectrum."
Kaelan sighed, closing his eyes. He reached out, not to grip her, but to rest his wrist lightly against hers, stabilizing his own tremor through the immediate contact. The shared warmth flowed into the bond, neutralizing his impatience with a heavy, soothing calm that originated from his desire for healing.
Anya worked meticulously, applying the cool gel and embedding tiny, wired biosensors into the hardening composite. The work was intricate, requiring her to lean over his large hand, their heads close. She could smell the pine of his cologne and the clean, metallic scent of his skin.
"During the fitting, the sensors will send feedback directly to your nervous system," Anya explained quietly. "It will be uncomfortable. Do not shift."
As the sensors activated, Kaelan's body tensed, a visible ripple running through his muscles. He bit back a sound, his composure nearly shattering.
"Focus on the stability," Anya murmured, her voice unintentionally soft. "Focus on the end result."
He opened his eyes, staring at her face, his gaze searching, desperate. The bond surged, not with dominance, but with a raw, shared pain and trust. Anya realized this shared vulnerability was more dangerous than any sexual tension. He was trusting her with his weakness.