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My breath catches. "I'd say you're lying."

"Have I lied to you yet?"

"I..." The warmth of his hand spreads up my arm. "Fine. Dinner."

His smile reaches his eyes. "I promise you won't regret it."

CHAPTER11

JACK

Ipace my apartment, fingers drumming against the PerComm as my report sits unfinished. The words mock me from the screen: "Subject displays typical human mating behaviors..."

Delete.

My skin itches beneath this human form, but I can't shift back. Not now. Not when her scent still clings to me, when I can still taste her on my lips.

"Computer, personal log." The device chirps to life. "Last night's field research has become... complicated."

I run my hands through my hair—this strange, blonde hair that isn't mine. Dawn breaks over Twin Oaks, painting the sky in colors that remind me of home.

"The subject—" I stop, clench my jaw. "Vanessa. Her name is Vanessa."

The computer waits patiently for my input.

"I should transfer out. Request reassignment. The data is already compromised." My chest tightens at the thought. "But I won't."

The memory of her laughter, the way she arched against me under the stars, floods back. No clinical terms could capture that moment. No anthropological framework could explain why my heart races when she looks at me.

"Computer, delete log."

I'm breaking every protocol in the handbook. Rule one: maintain emotional distance. Rule two: avoid intimate physical contact. Rule three: never develop personal attachments.

My PerComm pings with a message from Command. Probably wondering why my weekly report is late. I ignore it.

Instead, I pull up the image I captured of her last night. She's smiling, her head tucked against my chest, stars scattered behind us like diamonds on velvet. My human face looks back at me, and for the first time since taking this form, the expression feels genuine.

"Computer, new personal log." I pause, knowing these words could end my career. "I'm in love with a human. And I don't care about the consequences."

The PerComm vibrates against my desk, its screen flashing red. Priority message. I already know what it says, but I open it anyway.

"Agent Jorun, your recent field behavior has deviated significantly from protocol. Multiple violations detected: excessive personal contact, emotional entanglement, physical intimacy with subject V.W. Cease all non-observational interaction immediately."

My jaw clenches. The message continues to scroll.

"Your previous work has been exemplary, which is why you're receiving a warning rather than immediate extraction. Return to standard observation protocols. Further deviation will result in disciplinary action."

I slam the device down, pacing the length of my apartment. The sunrise catches my reflection in the window – this human form I've worn so long it's starting to feel more real than my own skin.

"Computer, display my mission parameters."

The holographic display flickers to life: "Observe. Document. Do not interfere with natural human social development."

"Computer, display subject file: Wright, Vanessa."

Her image appears, captured from our first meeting at The Love Roast. The clinical notes scroll beside it: "Subject displays typical defensive mechanisms resulting from repeated relationship failures. Exhibits above-average intelligence and emotional awareness."

My fingers hover over the delete command. One touch and I could erase every trace of her from the official record. But that wouldn't erase her from my mind, or this ache in my chest that feels anything but scientific.