“He doesn’t live in their cities?” I asked, seizing on this detail to distract myself from thoughts of venomous consummation.
“No. Boundary Guardians maintain outposts along the perimeter of inhabited regions. It’s a solitary posting, for the most part. Which is part of why he was selected for the program—the Serrathi recognized that he would benefit from companionship.”
I almost laughed. “So I’m basically an emotional support human for a lonely alien warrior?”
The technician looked up, his expression serious. “That characterization is reductive and culturally insensitive. The Serrathi do not view companionship as we do. To them, sharing one’s territory and protection is the highest form of respect and intimacy.”
I felt properly chastised, though I noticed Counselor Patel hide a small smile.
“Vuhr is considered exceptional even among the Boundary Guardians,” she added. “He’s not particularly verbose by human standards, but he’s known for his fairness and his ability to resolve conflicts without bloodshed—a rare quality among his kind.”
The neural interface hummed gently against my temples, feeding me impressions and cultural context that felt like memories I’d forgotten rather than new information. Isuddenly knew that Serrathi rarely spoke aloud, preferring to communicate through a complex system of scents, subtle movements, and low-frequency sounds. I understood that their society was hierarchical but not oppressive, with advancement based on merit rather than birth.
“His household is well-provisioned,” the technician added, pulling up images of what appeared to be a fortress carved into red stone. “You’ll want for nothing material. The Serrathi are meticulous providers.”
I stared at what would be my new home—beautiful in an austere, alien way, but so far removed from anything I’d known on Earth. Desert stretched in all directions, with strange formations of rock punctuating the landscape like the spines of enormous buried creatures.
“How do I—” I paused, uncertain how to frame my question. “How am I supposed to communicate with him? To understand what he wants from me?”
Counselor Patel’s expression softened. “That’s the beauty of the bond, Mira. Once established, you’ll have an intuitive understanding of each other. Not mind-reading, but something closer to empathic awareness.”
Another detail they’d conveniently buried in the fine print.
The technician removed the neural interfaces, and I felt a momentary disorientation as the connection severed. “Time’s up,” he said. “He’s arrived at the portal terminus.”
Panic fluttered in my chest. This was happening too fast. I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t processed even a fraction of what I’d just learned.
Counselor Patel must have seen it in my face. She took my hands in hers. “Trust the process, Mira. Trust yourself. You were chosen for this match because you have the strength and adaptability to thrive in his world.”
I wanted to believe her. I needed to believe her. Because in less than five minutes, I would meet the alien who would become my husband, my protector, and apparently, my biochemical other half.
“Ready or not,” I whispered to myself.
three
They led me to a circular chamber with walls of polished obsidian that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The floor beneath my feet hummed with energy—the portal terminus, I realized, where Vuhr would materialize from his world to mine. Or rather, where he would appear to claim me and take me back to his. My palms were slick with sweat, and I rubbed them surreptitiously against my thighs, wondering if Serrathi could smell fear the way Earth predators could.
“Remember to breathe,” Counselor Patel murmured from beside me. “The first impression is important, but they understand human nervousness. It’s expected.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. The officiant and technician had positioned themselves at the edges of the room, tablets ready to record the encounter. I stood alone in the center, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the simple white garment they’d provided—a shift dress that fell to my knees, with sleeves that ended just above my elbows. Traditional first-meeting attire, they’d explained, designed to be respectful without being provocative.
A low hum built in the air around us, vibrating through my bones. The circular pattern beneath my feet illuminated with symbols I couldn’t read, glowing blue-white like captured lightning. My heart hammered against my ribs as the air in the center of the room began to shimmer and distort.
“Portal sequence initiated,” the technician announced unnecessarily. “Arrival in five, four, three...”
I didn’t hear the rest of the countdown. The air split open with a sound like thunder contained in a small room, and a blinding light poured through the fissure. I raised my arm to shield my eyes, blinking away afterimages as the light receded as quickly as it had come.
And there he was.
Vuhr.
My husband-to-be.
The holographic images hadn’t prepared me for the reality of him. He was massive, for one thing—at least seven feet tall at the shoulder, his body powerfully muscled and covered in short, tawny fur that gleamed like burnished gold in the chamber’s light. His torso rose from the leonine body in a seamless blend of human and animal, the fur giving way to smooth skin the color of sunbaked clay.
His face was the most human part of him, yet still alien—high cheekbones and a strong jaw framed eyes that were entirely black except for vertical pupils of molten amber. No whites at all. No nose as I understood it, but rather two vertical slits that flared as he took in my scent. His mouth was wider than a human’s, lips fuller, revealing the tips of what might have been fangs when he parted them slightly.
Behind him, large wings were folded tight against his back, the membrane between the spines appearing delicate but iridescent, like oil on water. And that tail—thick as my arm at its base, tapering to a wicked point that curved up over his back, ready. Dangerous.
