Phil’s leaves rustled with what might have been skepticism.
“She will,” I insisted. “Eventually.”
The vine gave one final squeeze to my ankle before retreating, a silent farewell and good luck all in one gesture. I shouldered my pack, checked my weapons one last time, and headed toward the rift gate chamber.
It was time to reclaim my mate. Not because of deliria amoranta or primitive instinct—though those played their part—but because twenty-three days was simply too long to be apart from the one person in the universe who made even a Rodinian Legion Reaper smile.
Terra Prime’satmosphere felt heavier than I remembered—dense with moisture and the metallic tang of human civilization. The rift gate had deposited me three blocks from Miri’sapartment, exactly as planned, though the alley location left much to be desired. I activated my camo-tech, adjusting my appearance to blend with the local population—duller skin, no visible claws, concealed tail. The transformation felt restrictive, like wearing armor several sizes too small, but necessary. Humans tended to react poorly to seven-foot feline-looking warriors walking their streets.
I followed the route from memory, cataloging changes in the neighborhood since my departure. New security cameras on the corner market. Different scents from the food vendor beneath her building. A stray feline that hissed at me despite my human disguise—animals were never fooled by camo-tech.
Her apartment building looked exactly the same—weathered brick, narrow windows, the entrance secured by a lock system primitive enough that I could have bypassed it with my eyes closed. Instead, I waited for a resident to exit, then caught the door before it closed. Proper protocols could wait; the need to see her overrode Legion security training.
I took the stairs two at a time, my enhanced hearing already picking up the soft movements from inside her apartment—the pad of bare feet across wooden floors, the gentle clink of what sounded like ceramic against metal. She was home. Alive. Safe.
The relief nearly buckled my knees.
I stood before her door, running through various greeting scenarios, all of which suddenly seemed inadequate. Twenty-three days of separation deserved more than a casual “hello,” but Legion training hadn’t covered romantic reunions. I settled for the traditional approach: I knocked. Twice.
No answer.
I frowned. Her heartbeat had accelerated at the sound—she had definitely heard me. I knocked again, harder this time.
Still nothing, though I could smell her fear response activating, the subtle chemical shift in her scent that indicated heightened alertness. Something was wrong.
“You’re going to be mad,” I muttered to myself, weighing options. Legion protocol as well as Intergalactic Republic’s codes emphasized respecting Terran privacy norms and blending in, but my mate’s safety took precedence over diplomatic considerations.
I activated the phase function on my tactical belt, adjusting the frequency to pass through the solid matter of her door—and froze mid-step.
Miri stood in a perfect defensive stance, aiming a very familiar weapon directly at my chest. My pulse rifle. The same Legion-issue weapon I’d left secured in the bunker back on GL-7.
“Whoa,” I said, immediately dropping the camo-tech field with a shimmer of dissipating energy. Recognition replaced the fear in her eyes, followed swiftly by shock.
“Lor?! Dammit, I could have killed you!” The rifle thunked to the floor as she launched herself at me, all fists and fire. She pummeled my chest with surprising force for a human, each impact punctuated with words. “You. Can’t. Just. Phase. Through. My. Door!”
I chuckled as I took her angry punches gladly. Each one was a reminder that she was alive, fierce, and mine. My arms came around her, lifting her slightly as I backed us fully into her apartment.
“You could have called first!” she continued, still struggling against my hold. “Or texted! Or sent a space telegram or whatever you people use to say ‘Hey, I’m coming over, don’t shoot me with your alien gun!’”
I could have told her that it would have ruined the surprise. That I wanted to see her face at this plot twist. That I knew she would have appreciated it. Eventually.
But, I decided the best recourse would be to kiss her.
The taste of her flooded my system like a drug, sweet, familiar, and intoxicating. Twenty-three days of separation vanished in an instant. I lifted her higher, her legs wrapping around my waist as I pressed her against the nearest wall, deepening the kiss with a hunger that surprised even me.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, I touched my forehead to hers. “Hello, kassari.”
“Hi,” she whispered, her anger already fading to something softer. “You’re early.”
“I couldn’t wait.” The simple truth. “And I believe Legion Command sensed that and pushed for an early solution.”
“I love that these big, bad aliens worked so quick to make sure you could be with me.” She wiggled in my arms, indicating she wanted down. I complied reluctantly, already missing the press of her body against mine.
She bent to retrieve my pulse rifle from the floor. “Your Legion buddies brought it a few days after you left. Said it was ‘standard protection protocol for Rodinian mates.’ I’ve been practicing. My aim’s gotten pretty good”
I felt my lips curve into a smile. “I’m glad you didn’t need to shoot me.”
She rolled her eyes and tried to swat me again. I caught her hand, bringing it to my lips for a gentle kiss against her knuckles.
