“Well,” I said, licking sauce from my fingers in a way that made his eyes track the movement with startling intensity, “back home, there’s a legend about a goat-sucking cryptid called the Chupacabra.”
Lor’s ears perked up instantly, swiveling forward like satellite dishes. “Chupacabra?”
“Yeah. Fangs. Red eyes. Spikes down its back. Real menace to rural farmers and their livestock. Except maybe it was just, like,a mangy dog with a skin condition or something.” I waved my hand dismissively. “You know, one of those things people think they see but isn’t actually real.”
He nodded thoughtfully, his expression unexpectedly serious. “Sounds like a Garakh pup. They molt badly during first cycle. Makes their skin appear diseased to human eyes.”
I stared at him. “You’re telling me the Chupacabra is an alien with a skin condition?”
His expression didn’t change. “Possibly. The Garakh are not particularly dangerous unless threatened. They prefer high elevations and goats are convenient prey. Their saliva contains a mild neurotoxin that prevents blood coagulation.”
I cackled, delighted by this revelation. “Oh my god, you’re serious! What about Bigfoot? Please tell me Bigfoot is real.”
“Sasquatch?” His tail flicked with what I was learning to recognize as amusement. “Distant cousins to my species. They established enclaves on your planet during the third migration cycle. Extremely shy. Prefers solitude and kinship with nature than traversing the stars.”
“I love that! A homebody after my own heart!” I slapped my knee in triumph. “What about Mothman? Big red eyes, giant wings, appeared right before a bridge collapse in West Virginia?”
“Oh, yes,” Lor nodded. “That species evolved for nocturnal navigation. They sense structural instabilities—bridges, buildings. Not prescient, simply sensitive to vibration patterns that indicate imminent collapse.”
One cryptid after another, Lor confirmed or clarified each with such matter-of-fact certainty that I couldn’t help but believe him. Jersey Devil? “That one is dangerous. Legion has standing orders to neutralize on sight.”
Loch Ness Monster? “Ancient aquatic drone, malfunctioning but harmless.”
“Okay,” I said finally, narrowing my eyes at him. “If you’re so smart, let’s test something else.”
His ears perked up again, alert but curious. “What test?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I leaned in, closing the distance between us with deliberate slowness. His eyes widened slightly, pupils dilating until the amber was just a thin ring of gold around bottomless black.
He froze, not moving away but not closing the final gap either. His tail went completely still—something I’d never seen before.
I kissed him.
Just a light brush of lips. Testing. Curious. His mouth was warmer than I expected, slightly rougher than human lips but not unpleasantly so. He tasted like the spices from our dinner and something wilder underneath, something uniquely Lor.
For one terrifying second, he didn’t respond. Then I felt it—the slightest pressure back against my lips, the softest exhale of breath against my skin.
The vines around us shivered like they were caught in a breeze, though the air was perfectly still. The bioluminescent fungi pulsed brighter, as if the entire jungle was holding its breath.
Then one vine shoved me. Gently but firmly, right into Lor’s chest. My hands landed on his shoulders, his arms automatically coming around to steady me, and suddenly we were chest to chest, face to face, breath mingling.
I gasped at the contact, at the heat of him seeping through my leaf-wrap, at the rapid thudding of his heart against mine.
He growled. Low and deep in his chest, a sound that vibrated through my entire body.
Not in protest.
In promise.
His eyes locked with mine, searching for permission, for certainty. I didn’t pull away. Instead, I slid my hands from his shoulders up to the nape of his neck, feeling the soft fur there, the powerful muscles beneath.
And he didn’t let me go. His grip tightened fractionally, just enough to communicate desire without restraint, want without demand.
“Miri,” he murmured, my name transformed in his mouth, becoming something precious and wild. “This is?—”
“Don’t you dare say ‘unwise,’” I whispered against his lips. “Or ‘dangerous.’ Or any other perfectly reasonable objection that we both know doesn’t matter anymore.”
His mouth curved in the closest thing to a real smile I’d seen from him. “I was going to say ‘inevitable.’”
