Page 31 of Snared (The Legion: Savage Lands Sector #8)
LOR
The security system recognized my genetic signature, the metallic door sliding open with a whisper that sounded harsh after months of jungle rustling.
I stepped into my Rodinian dwelling—all angular lines and polished surfaces—and felt like a stranger in my own territory.
The sterile scent burned my nostrils, devoid of the rich organic compounds that had become as necessary as breathing.
My ears flattened slightly, adjusting to the hollow acoustics of the space, while my tail lashed behind me in an instinctive response to unfamiliarity.
This had once been my sanctuary, my pride, but now it felt wrong.
Empty. Incomplete without Miri’s scent mingling with mine, without her chaotic energy filling the corners.
I moved deeper into the dwelling, my footfalls unnaturally loud against the polished stone floor.
The central chamber opened before me—a sweeping space of minimalist Rodinian design with ceiling-high windows overlooking the purple-hued mountains of Tertius.
Stark. Beautiful. Cold. My claws extended slightly, clicking against the smooth surfaces as I traced the edge of a console that controlled the dwelling’s environmental systems.
“Activate full spectrum,” I commanded, my voice echoing in the empty space.
The AI complied instantly, filling the room with light calibrated to match the twin suns of GL-7.
Better. Still wrong, but better. I continued my inspection, moving with the measured precision that had kept me alive through countless missions.
The security perimeter remained intact—motion sensors, heat detection, gravitational anomaly alerts—all functioning at optimal levels.
I adjusted each setting, heightening sensitivity in some areas, reducing it in others.
Miri had a habit of wandering where she shouldn’t, a trait both endearing and terrifying.
A sound from outside—the whistle of wind through the artificial canyon that housed the elite Legion residences—made my ears twitch, rotating to track the noise.
Not a threat. Just unfamiliar. I realized my body remained coiled tight, ready to react to dangers that didn’t exist in this carefully controlled environment.
My tail continued its restless movement, sweeping behind me in arcs that betrayed my discomfort.
This place felt like a cage now, its perfection sterile and lifeless compared to the vibrant chaos of our jungle home.
I shook my head, forcing myself to focus on preparation rather than discomfort.
Miri would arrive soon, and her comfort mattered above all else.
I moved to the environmental controls, raising the ambient temperature several degrees.
Humans ran cooler than Rodinians; Miri especially seemed perpetually cold outside the jungle’s humid embrace.
Next, the lighting—I adjusted it to mimic the golden-green filter of sunlight through the canopy, transforming the harsh Rodinian illumination to something softer, more familiar.
The kitchen unit presented another challenge.
I arranged the native fruits I’d collected on my journey here—violet-fleshed zaril, golden bursts of nylian, the rare red-speckled chambi that reminded me of her favorite Earth fruit, strawberries.
The food synthesizer had been programmed with Earth recipes, though the molecular composition was never quite right.
Miri had laughed the first time she’d tasted its attempts at coffee—“Like someone described coffee to an alien who’d never tasted it...which I guess is exactly what happened.”
I moved to the communication console next, my claws tapping delicate commands into the interface. The unit hummed to life, establishing connection to the Terran mate network.
Legion Command had created the system after so many have found their fate mates throughout the years. It allowed all within the Legion collective to connect with others who shared their unique experience.
Miri had been hesitant to join the network initially—“I’m not exactly a joiner, Lor. Besides, what would I even talk about with them? ‘So, how’s your alien husband’s tail working out for you?’”—but had eventually agreed it might be useful.
The doors to the sleeping chamber slid open at my approach. The massive platform that served as our bed dominated the space. It was large enough to accommodate my frame with room for Miri to sprawl in the chaotic sleeping position she preferred.
I added more cushions, softer fabrics I’d acquired specifically because they resembled the moss bedding of our jungle shelter. The subtle touches transformed the space from merely functional to something approaching the comfort of our true home.
A notification chimed, vibrating through my neural implant. Arrival imminent. She was here.
I moved to the entrance, my heartbeat accelerating in a way that still surprised me after all these months.
The anticipation of seeing her never diminished, never normalized.
The door slid open, and there she stood—my kassari, my mate, my everything —backlit by the purple glow of the suns setting, her expression shifting from uncertainty to delight as she saw me.
“Holy shit,” she exclaimed, stepping inside and spinning in a slow circle to take in the dwelling. “This is your fancy cat palace? I was expecting, I don’t know, maybe some scratching posts and a giant litter box?”
I growled low in my throat, a sound she knew was amusement rather than displeasure. “Welcome to my residence on Rodinia Tertius.”
“Residence?” She grinned, dropping her travel pack and moving toward me with that fluid grace that always captivated me. “That’s what we’re calling it? Not ‘my sterile spaceship pretending to be a house’?”
Her scent hit me then—that perfect combination of her natural essence and the jungle pheromones she’d absorbed through our bond. My nostrils flared, drinking her in, and some tightly wound part of my chest finally relaxed. This place wasn’t home, but with her here, it became something close enough.
“It serves its purpose,” I replied, pulling her against me, my tail automatically curling around her thigh in possessive greeting. “Security. Privacy. Access to Legion resources.”
She leaned into my embrace for a moment before curiosity reclaimed her. I watched as she moved through the space, touching everything, examining control panels, peering through viewports with childlike wonder.
“What does this do?” she asked, fingers hovering over a crystalline interface embedded in the wall. Before I could answer, she pressed it, and the floor-to-ceiling window transformed into a display of the surrounding mountain range, magnified to show details invisible to the naked eye.
“Surveillance system,” I explained, moving to stand behind her. “It can track any movement within fifty kilometers.”
“Paranoid much?” she teased, but her eyes were bright with fascination. “And this?” She gestured to another panel.
“Atmospheric control. It can replicate any environment from the Legion database.”
“Including our jungle?” She glanced up at me, her expression hopeful.
“A reasonable approximation,” I conceded.
She continued her exploration, asking questions faster than I could answer them, her enthusiasm infectious.
I found myself seeing my own residence through new eyes—not as the cold, functional space it had become, but as the marvel of engineering it truly was.
My tail betrayed my pleasure, swishing in lazy arcs behind me as I watched her.
Eventually, she circled back to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head against my chest. “It’s impressive,” she admitted. “Very Legion-y. But also very you.”
I rumbled with satisfaction, stroking her hair. “It is adequate for our needs while on Tertius.”
“Speaking of needs,” she said, pulling back slightly to look up at me. “Tell me more about this meet-up with the other human mates tomorrow. What should I expect? What should I wear? What if they’re all proper ladies and I’m just me ?”
The vulnerability in her voice made my protective instincts surge. I cupped her face in my hands, careful of my claws against her delicate skin. “You are perfect as you are. My jungle queen.”
“Your jungle queen who cusses too much and doesn’t know which fork to use at fancy dinners,” she muttered, though her lips quirked in a small smile.
“They are not what you imagine,” I assured her. “The women who have bonded with Legion warriors, especially Rodinians, are all exceptional in their own ways. Warriors. Scientists. Creators. None followed conventional paths.”
“Like me with my cryptid podcast?” She raised an eyebrow skeptically.
“Exactly like you.” I pressed my forehead to hers in the intimate gesture that had become our ritual. “They will welcome you. But even if they did not, it would change nothing. You are mine, as I am yours.”
She sighed, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “I know. It’s just that all this is so different from the jungle. So official. So real.”
“All of it is real,” I reminded her gently. “This dwelling. Our jungle home. The bond between us. Different facets of the same truth.”
She nodded, then pulled away with renewed determination. “Alright then. Show me where we sleep in this fancy place. I want to see if your Rodinian bed is as comfortable as our moss nest.”
I growled low in my throat, a sound of pleasure and promise. “I believe you’ll find it satisfactory.”
Her laughter filled the sterile space, transforming it instantly into something warmer, something alive. And as I followed her toward our sleeping chamber, I realized that home wasn’t in the jungle or in this dwelling.
It was wherever she was, bringing light and chaos and boundless curiosity to every corner of my existence.