“You should rest,” I said, not looking at her. “Night comes quickly here. We will need to move soon.”
“We?” she asked. “Or are you planning to sneak off and play hero while I’m asleep?”
I glanced back at her, unable to hide my surprise at her perceptiveness.
She grinned, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Look, I get it. You’ve got a job to do. But if we’re really...whatever we are...then we’re in this together. No ditching me for my own good. Got it?”
The challenge in her voice stirred something primal in me—respect, amusement, and a deeper hunger I refused to name. She was not what I expected. Stronger. Braver. More.
“I will not leave you unprotected,” I said finally. “But I must track him. Tonight. Before his trail grows colder.”
She considered this, then nodded. “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”
“It is too dangerous.”
“Life is dangerous. I spent the last three years chasing cryptids and conspiracy theories across Earth. I’ve been shot at by paranoid militia groups, chased by ‘security personnel’ at classified facilities, and nearly eaten by what may or may nothave been a chupacabra in New Mexico.” She crossed her arms. “I can handle myself.”
I stared at her, caught between admiration and exasperation. My kassari was either the bravest human I’d ever encountered or the most reckless. Perhaps both.
“The predators here are unlike anything on your world,” I warned.
“That’s why I’ll have you.” She held my gaze, unwavering. “You protect me, I help you. Partnership.”
The concept was foreign to me. Reapers worked alone. We hunted alone. We lived alone. But nothing about this mission had followed protocol from the moment she stepped through that portal.
“We will discuss it after you rest,” I said finally, a compromise.
She seemed to recognize it as the concession it was. “Fine. But just so you know, if you try to leave me behind, Phil will totally rat you out.”
The vine draped across her shoulder gave a small undulating wave that could almost be interpreted as agreement. The jungle itself was conspiring against me.
“Traitor,” I muttered to the vine.
Miri’s laugh was unexpected—bright and genuine in the shadowed shelter. It sent a pulse of warmth through me that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the Unity bond growing between us.
For the first time since detecting the fugitive’s return, I felt the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. Whatever came next, whatever danger we faced, we would face it together.
My kassari. My fate. My mission.
5 /MIRI
Jungle Rule#1: Don’t name the vines. I knew that. And yet…Phil. Phil was the thick green vine that had tugged my ponytail three times today, offered me a shiny stone from the mossy ground, and just now tried to wrap around my ankle like a clingy toddler.
“Personal space, Phil,” I muttered, untangling myself again.
Phil pouted. If a vine could pout. I didn’t know how this was my life.
Alien jungle. No Wi-Fi. No coffee. A grumpy cheetah-man with shoulders the size of a Ford F-150 and a jawline that could slice bread.
And I was…weirdly fine?
Maybe it was the air. Or the vines. Or the slow way Lor looked at me when he thought I wasn’t watching, like I was a puzzle he wasn’t quite sure how to solve—but that he wanted to take apart piece by piece with his teeth.
Which, okay, hot.
The perch he’d built for me was strung between two huge trees, nestled in the crook of their forked trunks. It wasn’t exactly glamping, but it had a moss bed, a woven leaf roof,and actual privacy. Vines draped protectively around the sides, rustling if anything got close.
Like living in a treehouse built by Tarzan and guarded by houseplants with attachment issues.
