Page 27 of Tamed by the Alien Himbo

The sand shifts beneath our feet as we walk along the shoreline. Vanessa's hand fits perfectly in mine, her fingers intertwined with my red ones. The moons cast everything in a silvery glow.

"I need to send my resignation," I say, pulling out my PerComm. "Though I doubt they'll accept it gracefully."

"Will they come after us?" Vanessa's grip tightens.

"Let them try." I tap out a brief message, keeping it professional despite the circumstances. "I'm done being their puppet. Done pretending to be something I'm not."

"Speaking of which..." Vanessa traces one of my horns with her free hand. "I kind of like the real you better."

"Even with all this?" I gesture to my crimson skin.

"Especially with all that." She smirks. "Though I'll miss the stubble."

I send the message and toss the PerComm into the violet waves. "There. No more Project Veritas. No more studying humans from a distance." I pull her close. "Just experiencing life with one particular human up close."

"So what now? Where do we go?"

"Anywhere. Everywhere." I sweep my arm across the horizon. "There are worlds out there that would make Earth's most beautiful places look ordinary. Art that would make your fingers itch to create. And I want to show you all of it."

"Promise me something?" She presses her forehead against my chest.

"Anything."

"No more lies. No more missions. Just us being real with each other."

"I promise." I lift her chin. "You're my only mission now."

"Good." She rises on her toes to kiss me. "Because I'm not letting you go either."

I lean against the counter of The Star Roast, watching Vanessa work her magic. She's explaining Earth coffee to a bewildered Odex man whose furry paws keep dropping the mug

"No, like this," she demonstrates with infinite patience. "The wide part is for drinking."

The café buzzes with the familiar mix of human and alien chatter. The scent of fresh-baked pastries mingles with the aromatic Earth coffee we import at ridiculous expense. Worth every credit to see the faces of newly-arrived humans when they taste their first familiar drink in months.

"Another refugee incoming," I murmur as the door chimes. A young woman enters, looking shell-shocked, her clothes distinctly Earth-style but wrinkled from space travel.

Vanessa's already moving, pulling out a chair. "Hey there. Rough trip?"

"I... I don't even know where I am anymore." The woman's voice breaks.

"You're exactly where you need to be." Vanessa slides a steaming cup across the table. "Earth blend, extra sugar. On the house."

The woman takes a sip and bursts into tears. I've seen this scene play out dozens of times now - the relief of finding a piece of home in the vastness of space.

Vanessa catches my eye and winks. She's in her element here, creating this sanctuary for the lost and confused. Her walls are covered in her artwork now - scenes of Earth blending seamlessly into alien landscapes, bridging two worlds just like we do.

I lean against the counter, watching Vanessa balance precariously on a stepladder as she hangs glittering hearts from the ceiling. Her tongue pokes out slightly in concentration - a habit I've grown to adore.

"A little to the left," I suggest, fighting back a grin as she shoots me a look.

"If you're such an expert on Earth decorations now, why don't you come up here and do it yourself?"

"And miss this view? Never." My horns catch the light as I tilt my head appreciatively.

She throws a paper cupid at me. "Keep it professional, mister. We've got customers."

"They're all regulars. Half of them were at our mating ceremony."

Vanessa climbs down, surveying her work. The café looks like love exploded in it - hearts, flowers, and twinkling lights everywhere. Last year, she'd rolled her eyes at all this. Now she's humming as she adjusts a bouquet of roses.

"Remember when you first interviewed me about Valentine's Day?" She slides behind the counter, bumping her hip against mine. "All those weird questions about human mating rituals?"

"In my defense, your customs are bizarre. An infant with arrows? Hearts that look nothing like actual cardiac organs?"

"Says the man who proposed by taking me to see a binary star system merge."

"That was romantic! The gravitational forces pulling them together, just like-"

She silences me with a kiss. "You're such a nerd."

"Your nerd," I murmur against her lips.

"Always," she agrees, then pulls back with a playful smile. "Now help me hang these stupid cupids or you're sleeping on the couch."

Hours later, the last customer shuffles out, their tentacles dragging slightly from too much caffeine. I flip the sign to "Closed" while Vanessa counts the register, humming an old Earth song under her breath. The café feels different at night - more intimate, the artificial starlight casting shadows through the hanging hearts.

"You missed one." I point to a stray paper cupid that's fallen behind a plant.

"Leave it. He can keep the Venusian fern company." She taps the screen, frowning. "Did we really go through twelve pounds of coffee today?"

"The Alliance delegation cleaned us out. Apparently, they're taking some back as 'exotic contraband.'"

"Great. More paperwork." She yawns, stretching her arms above her head. The movement makes her dress ride up slightly, and my hands itch to touch her. "Stop staring at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're planning to ravish me on the counter again."

"That was one time." I move behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. "And you weren't complaining."

"We had to replace the espresso machine." But she leans back against me, her fingers tracing the ridges on my forearms. "The health inspector almost had a stroke."

"Worth it."

She turns in my arms, rising on her toes. Her lips brush mine, soft and sweet. "Happy Valentine's Day, my alien."

The words send a shiver through me. After everything - the lies, the reveal, the rescue - she's still here, still mine. And I'm completely, irrevocably hers.