Page 6 of Married to the Manticore (The Monster Matrimony Files #1)

six

T hree days after our bonding, I was beginning to settle into a routine with Vuhr at the Sanctuary.

We spent our mornings in cultural exchange—him teaching me Manticore customs, me explaining human ones.

The afternoons were for physical training, where he patiently showed me defensive moves adapted for my more fragile human form.

Evenings were ours alone, filled with conversations that stretched into the night and physical intimacy that grew more comfortable with each encounter.

I was learning to read his expressions, to understand the flick of an ear or the twitch of his tail as indicators of his mood. At least, I thought I was.

That particular afternoon, we were in one of the Sanctuary’s common areas—a spacious room with vaulted ceilings high enough to accommodate Vuhr’s wings and furnishings designed for various physiologies.

I sat cross-legged on a cushion, watching him organize a collection of star charts on a large table.

The concentration on his face as he worked was endearing, the tip of his tongue just visible between his teeth, his tail swaying gently behind him.

I’d been thinking about that tail more than I cared to admit.

During our nights together, it had become a third participant in our intimacy—wrapping around my thigh, stroking my back, occasionally teasing between my legs in ways that made me gasp.

I found myself watching its movements with a fascination that bordered on obsession.

In the three days since our bonding, I’d grown bolder with my new mate.

The initial hesitation had given way to curiosity, and I’d discovered Vuhr responded beautifully to my explorations of his body.

There were still boundaries, of course—cultural and physical differences that required care—but I was learning.

Or so I believed.

Vuhr’s tail flicked in a lazy arc as he bent over a particularly complex chart.

Without much conscious thought, I rose from my cushion and moved toward him.

The impulse that drove me was simple: I wanted to touch him, to initiate contact outside of our private chambers, to show him that my desire wasn’t confined to designated times and places.

“Find what you’re looking for?” I asked, coming to stand beside him.

He glanced up, golden eyes warming at the sight of me. “Almost. These navigation coordinates are tricky to translate into your Earth reference system.”

I nodded as if I understood the complexities of interstellar navigation, my attention fixed on the sinuous movement of his tail behind him.

It seemed to have a mind of its own sometimes, expressing emotions that his face concealed.

Right now, it moved in a pattern I’d come to associate with contentment.

Making what seemed like a natural gesture, I reached out and stroked the length of his tail, my fingers trailing along the smooth scales from base to tip.

The reaction was instantaneous and nothing like what I expected.

Vuhr went rigid, the charts forgotten. His ears flattened against his head, and a sound emerged from his throat that I’d never heard before—not quite a growl, not quite a keen, but something between the two.

The hair along his spine stood on end, and his wings, which had been folded neatly against his back, snapped open with enough force to send several of the charts flying.

“Vuhr?” I stepped back, startled. “What’s wrong?”

He turned to me, his expression unreadable to my human eyes. His pupils had contracted to narrow slits, giving him a wild look I hadn’t seen since the day we’d met, when he’d stood between me and danger.

“I need air,” he said, his voice tight and controlled in a way that sent alarm bells ringing through my mind. Without further explanation, he strode toward the terrace doors, wings still partially extended, tail now held stiffly behind him.

I watched, bewildered, as he launched himself from the terrace into the open air, powerful wings carrying him rapidly away from the Sanctuary building.

“What just happened?” I whispered to the empty room.

I replayed the moment in my mind, trying to identify my transgression.

Had I hurt him somehow? The tail was strong, muscular—I couldn’t have injured it with a simple touch.

Was touching the tail taboo outside of intimate settings?

But that didn’t make sense either; he’d wrapped it around my wrist just yesterday as we walked through the gardens, a public display of affection.

I sank back onto my cushion, a sick feeling growing in my stomach. Three days of bonding, of what I thought was growing understanding, and I’d already managed to offend him deeply enough that he’d literally fled from my presence.

Perhaps this was the inevitable outcome of trying to bridge our differences.

Perhaps there were too many cultural gaps, too many unspoken rules that I would never fully grasp.

The thought sent a chill through me. I’d committed myself to this union, believing we could overcome our differences. What if I was wrong?

The door to the common room slid open with a soft hiss, and I looked up expectantly, hoping to see Vuhr. Instead, Counselor Patel, the Sanctuary’s cultural counselor hurried in, her wide eyes full of concern.

“Mira!” she exclaimed, her voice melodic even in distress. “I just saw Vuhr take off from the terrace in quite a state. Everything seemed to be going well. What happened?”

I explained the incident as best I could, ending with my confusion over his reaction.

“Wait—you touched his tail? Just like that, unprompted?” Veela’s color shifted to a deep blue of understanding. “Oh stars. Oh my. No wonder he reacted that way.”

“What did I do wrong?” I asked, dread building.

Veela settled beside me, her expression gentler now. “In Manticore culture, deliberately touching another’s tail outside of established intimacy is a very specific gesture. It’s a pre-challenge for mating combat.”

I stared at her. “A what?”

“Mating combat.” She blinked all four eyes in sequence.

“It’s an ancient practice. When a Manticore is already mated, if another wishes to challenge for the right to that mate, they signal their intent by touching the tail.

It’s the equivalent of...hmm, in human terms, perhaps throwing down a gauntlet?

Or slapping someone across the face to demand a duel? ”

Horror washed over me as understanding dawned. “So when I touched his tail...”

“He thinks you’re unsatisfied with him as a mate and are challenging him to prove his worth again.

” Veela’s skin rippled with sympathetic pink.

“It’s particularly confusing because you’re already bonded.

In the old days, such a challenge so soon after bonding would indicate serious dissatisfaction. ”

I covered my face with my hands. “I was trying to be flirtatious! I thought it would be, I dunno, playful?”

“Cultural misunderstandings are inevitable in cross-species relationships,” Veela said gently. “This is why the Sanctuary exists—to provide a safe place for these learning experiences.”

“Learning experiences,” I echoed weakly. “Is that what we’re calling my accidentally challenging my husband to combat three days after our wedding?”

Veela’s skin flashed briefly with amused turquoise before she composed herself. “If it helps, this isn’t the first time this particular misunderstanding has occurred. There was a human- Drakloid couple last year who—well, that’s a story for another time.”

She rose, extending a hand to help me up. “Come. We should find Vuhr and explain. He’s probably circling the southern cliffs, working off his confusion. Manticores often fly when emotionally distressed.”

As we headed toward the terrace, I couldn’t help but ask, “What would have happened if we were among his people? If I’d made this gesture publicly?”

Veela’s color shifted to a thoughtful purple. “He would have been expected to demonstrate his worthiness through a display of strength or skill—not necessarily combat in the modern era, but something impressive. It’s rather romantic, in a primal sort of way.”

“Romantic,” I repeated, wondering how many more ‘romantic’ Manticore customs I had yet to discover. “I have so much more to learn, don’t I?”

“Yes,” Veela agreed, her tone kind but honest. “But so does he. That’s the beauty of interspecies unions—two souls discovering each other across the gulf of different evolutionary paths. The challenges are many, but so are the rewards.”

As we stepped onto the terrace, I scanned the sky for the distinctive silhouette of Vuhr’s wings, hoping he would understand that my gesture came from affection, not challenge. Perhaps this misunderstanding, embarrassing as it was, would become one of those stories we told in later years.