Page 2 of Married to the Manticore (The Monster Matrimony Files #1)
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C ounselor Patel ushered me into what she called the “Cultural Immersion Suite,” but it reminded me more of a medical examination room crossed with a high-tech classroom.
Holographic displays lined the walls, inactive for now, and a circular table in the center held various objects I couldn’t identify.
My stomach clenched as a technician approached with what looked like neural interface equipment—thin, adhesive sensors designed to accelerate language acquisition and cultural understanding.
“We don’t have time for the full protocol,” Counselor Patel said, gesturing for me to sit in a contoured chair. “But we need to cover the essentials before your first meeting with Vuhr.”
The technician placed the sensors at my temples with practiced efficiency. “These won’t hurt,” he murmured. “Just relax and let the information flow.”
Relax. Right. As if that were possible when I was about to be married to an alien I’d never met.
The wall in front of me illuminated with a holographic display of what I assumed was Vuhr’s species.
I inhaled sharply. The being displayed was simultaneously beautiful and terrifying—a hybrid creature with elements that seemed cobbled together from Earth’s most dangerous predators, yet arranged with an undeniable harmony.
“The Serrathi are a warrior race from the desert world of Karesh,” Counselor Patel explained as the image rotated, showing the creature from all angles. “They evolved as apex predators in an environment we would consider lethal. Their society values strength, honor, and duty above all else.”
The hologram zoomed in on specific anatomical features. A humanoid torso and head attached to a powerful, leonine body. Large, folded wings that appeared capable of short flight. And most alarmingly, a segmented tail ending in what was unmistakably a stinger.
“Important safety note,” the technician said, his voice clinically detached. “Do not touch the tail unless explicitly invited to do so. It contains defense mechanisms that are instinctive and not always under conscious control.”
I swallowed hard. “Defense mechanisms?”
“Venom,” Counselor Patel clarified. “Though ‘venom’ isn’t quite accurate. It’s a complex biochemical compound with multiple functions.”
The hologram shifted to show internal anatomy, highlighting a series of glands near the base of the tail. I felt heat rise to my face as I realized where this was going.
“The Serrathi mating process involves an exchange of biochemical markers,” the technician continued. “In simplified terms, venom shared through climax creates a physiological bond between mates.”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted, my voice higher than normal. “Did you just say ‘venom shared through climax’?”
Counselor Patel gave me a sympathetic look.
“It’s not dangerous to humans. Quite the opposite, actually.
The compounds have been thoroughly analyzed and are compatible with human physiology.
In fact, they contain properties that will extend your lifespan to match his, enhance your immune system, and establish a biochemical connection that both cultures recognize as a marriage bond. ”
The implications struck me like a physical blow. This wasn’t just a political arrangement or a convenient pairing. This was a biological merger, something that would fundamentally alter my body chemistry.
“This isn’t in the standard briefings,” I said, trying to keep accusation from my tone.
“It’s covered in section 37B of the contract you signed,” the technician replied, not looking up from his tablet. “Under ‘Physiological Adaptations and Modifications.’”
I vaguely remembered skimming that section, assuming it referred to vaccinations or dietary supplements. Not venomous sexual bonding.
The hologram shifted again, now displaying what appeared to be a Serrathi settlement—structures of pale stone built into and around cliff faces, with gardens of strange, spiky vegetation in terraced arrangements.
“Vuhr is what they call a Boundary Guardian,” Counselor Patel continued. “An elite warrior tasked with patrolling the borders of Serrathi territory. It’s a position of high honor, given only to those who have proven themselves in combat and demonstrated exceptional judgment.”
“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.
I suddenly 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.