“But that’s exactly why it’s the perfect hiding spot,” she argues, that stubborn lift to her chin making my chest tighten with both admiration and frustration. “No one would look there. It’s like abandoned missile silos or decommissioned bunkers back home—the places people avoid are exactly where secrets hide.”
She’s not wrong. Her experience chasing cryptids across her world has given her insights into concealment patterns thateven Legion training doesn’t cover. Prey behavior is universal, it seems, regardless of the planet.
“Your knowledge is valuable,” I acknowledge. “But your safety is non-negotiable.”
She stands, moving closer until she has to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. The top of her head barely reaches my shoulder, yet she faces me with the fearlessness of a warrior twice my size.
“You can’t protect me forever, Lor.”
“Yes I can,” I counter, my voice low. “But I do not need forever. Just tonight. Just until this threat is eliminated.”
Her scent shifts slightly—determination mixed with concern. “And then what? You send me home and we pretend none of this happened? That we aren’t...whatever we are to each other?”
The question hits like a physical blow. The thought of sending her away, of watching her step back through the rift gate into her world...it tears at something fundamental inside me. But the alternative—keeping her here, in constant danger, away from her family, her life—is equally unacceptable.
“When you are safe,” I say carefully, choosing each word with precision, “when this threat is neutralized, I will follow Legion protocol for first contact situations involving kassari bonds.”
“Which is what, exactly?” Her arms cross over her chest, a defensive posture I’m learning to recognize.
“I will return with you to Terra Prime. Make sure you have what you need. Then, court you properly, according to your customs, such as those dates you mentioned.” The words feel stiff, inadequate to express the depth of my intention. “If you choose to accept me, then we go from there.”
She blinks, then a slow smile spreads across her face. “Did you just say you’ll take me on dates? On Earth?”
“Yes.”
“Like, dinner and movies? Meeting my brother? The whole human courtship ritual?”
I nod once, stiffly. “If that is your preference.”
Her smile widens. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy watching you try to blend in at an Olive Garden.”
I’m not familiar with this “Olive Garden,” but her amusement suggests it will be a challenge. One I’m willing to face, if it means keeping her in my life.
“But first,” I say, returning to the matter at hand, “I must eliminate the threat Vaskari poses. Tonight.”
Her smile fades. “And I’m supposed to just sit here and wait? While you go into the one place even the jungle fears?”
“Yes.”
She turns away from me, pacing the small confines of our shelter. Phil follows her movement, vine-body undulating in what I’ve come to recognize as anxiety.
“I can defend myself,” she says finally, her back still to me, shoulders tight. “I’ve faced down cults and conspiracy theorists with guns. I’ve hiked through rattlesnake country. I’ve been in a bar fight in rural Alaska.”
The words make my chest twist. She means it. She believes it. And part of me thrills at her fire. But another part—the one born in battlefields and bone-deep instinct—recoils.
My mate. Alone. Unprotected.
“I trust you,” I say slowly, choosing my words with care. “But I trust the jungle more.”
Phil coils lightly around her ankle as if to agree, a sentinel I know will not fail me.
“If you wander too far—” I pause, then point a claw at the vine. “Phil has my permission to pin you down.”
Her eyes narrow dangerously. “I am not a jungle toddler.”
“Then stop sneaking off like one.”
She scowls. Phil wiggles, apparently enjoying our exchange far too much for a supposedly neutral party.
