“Merely an observation,” the first Alpha replied smoothly. “The Rodinian fate-mate bond is legendary for its strength. Yet you’ve left her vulnerable by not completing it.”
I felt Lor tense beside me, his body coiling with barely restrained aggression. I placed my hand on his arm, feeling the corded muscles beneath his skin.
“We’re fine, thanks for your concern,” I said, infusing my voice with a sweetness that wouldn’t fool anyone. “Just passing through on our way home.”
The copper-haired Alpha’s companion leaned closer, dropping his voice to a rumble meant for Lor alone, but I caught it anyway.
“It’s not worth getting between a Rodinian and his mate,” he murmured. “They’re notoriously lethal concerning their mates, bond mark or no.”
The first one grinned, teeth flashing. “If you tire of your Rodinian?—”
I didn’t let him finish. I grabbed Lor’s hand and dragged him straight toward the gate, my cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation.
“Thanks but no thanks, cologne models,” I called over my shoulder. “I’m perfectly happy with my big cat.”
The rift gate pulsed before us, its silvery surface rippling like mercury. I could see Earth—actually see it—through the translucent barrier, as if looking through a rain-streaked window. My apartment building, my street, my home.
Just before we stepped through, I caught Lor looking back at the Eridani Alphas, his eyes narrowed in a warning that required no translation. Mine. The message was clear even across species.
“Possessive much?” I teased, squeezing his hand.
“Yes,” he replied simply, without apology or elaboration.
I laughed, the sound swallowed by the humming energy of the gate as we stepped through together. The sensation was disorienting—like being turned inside out and reassembled, all in the space of a heartbeat. Colors stretched and compressed, sound distorted, and then?—
We were standing on my street. The late afternoon sun slanted between buildings, painting everything in golden light. Cars passed by, drivers oblivious to the fact that we’d just stepped through a hole in reality. A dog walker with three pugs gave us a curious glance before continuing on.
“Home,” I said, my voice catching slightly.
Lor stood perfectly still beside me, his senses clearly overwhelmed by the sudden immersion in Earth’s environment. I watched as he processed the assault of new stimuli—the exhaust fumes, the distant sirens, the babel of human voices and technology.
“It smells...” he began, searching for the word.
“Terrible?” I offered.
“Complex,” he decided diplomatically.
I tugged his hand, leading him toward my apartment building. “Come on, big guy. Let me show you where this Terran omega-compatible female nests.”
His growl of protest made me laugh again, lighter than I had in days. Maybe it was the relief of being home, or maybe it was the absurdity of bringing an alien warrior to my one-bedroom walk-up. Either way, it felt good. Right.
The Eridani Alphas’ words lingered in the back of my mind—the talk of bonding, of vulnerability, of completion. But those were questions for later. For now, I just wanted to show Lor my world, my home, my life.
Before he had to leave and return to his.
My apartment was exactlyas I’d left it. Dusty. A little sad. But mine. The familiar scent of my lavender candles and forgotten coffee mugs hit me like a wave of nostalgia. After days in the living jungle with its symphony of sensory experiences, my small urban space felt simultaneously too quiet and too loud. Lor prowled each room, inspecting the space as if it might sprout an ambush at any moment, his powerful frame making my furniture look oddly delicate and undersized.
“You’ve been here only twenty minutes and already I can see you judging my housekeeping skills,” I said, watching him run a claw gently over the layer of dust on my bookshelf.
His lips quirked in that almost-smile I’d grown to treasure. “I am securing the perimeter.”
“From dust bunnies? Very dangerous. They travel in packs, you know.”
He turned to me, golden eyes serious despite my teasing. “Habit,” he admitted. “I cannot help but assess.”
I crossed to him, placing my hand on his arm. The muscles beneath my fingers were tense, coiled with the alertness of a predator in unfamiliar territory. “I know. It’s who you are.”
We stood there in my living room—him a warrior from beyond the stars, me a podcaster who chased stories about things that weren’t supposed to exist—and the absurdity of it all suddenly hit me. I started laughing, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep and genuine.
