Page 8 of Snared
I looked down at the vine still loosely wrapped around my wrist—Phil, as I’d decided to call it. “So Phil here is part of a planet-sized brain?”
The vine gave a little squeeze that felt suspiciously like affirmation.
“Fantastic. I’m on a first-name basis with alien plant life.” I took a deep breath. “And you knew I was here because...?”
His gaze intensified, and even without the vine-translator, the heat in those eyes would have communicated everything. “The Unity dream. You are mykassari. My fate mate.”
And there it was. The elephant in the jungle. Or rather, the extremely erotic shared dream experience we’d both apparently had.
“About that,” I said, my voice suddenly hoarse. “What exactly is a Unity dream? Because where I come from, sharing dreams with someone you’ve never met is not normal. Especially not...that kind of dream.”
His nostrils flared slightly. “When fate mates are in proximity, they dream together. It is how we find each other across the stars.”
“Fate mates,” I repeated. “That’s...That’s a lot. We just met. Well, technically we still haven’t met-met, since the dream doesn’t count. Does it? I don’t know the rules here.” I was babbling, a defense mechanism I’d perfected over years of uncomfortable situations. None quite as uncomfortable as waking up wrapped in sentient vines being watched by the alien sex god I’d dreamed about doing extremely non-PG things with, but still.
Lor moved closer, careful but deliberate, like he was approaching a skittish animal. Which, fair. I probably looked pretty skittish.
“You feel it too,” he said, not a question but a statement. “The connection.”
I wanted to deny it, to laugh it off as some kind of jungle fever hallucination. But something stopped me—the same something that had recognized him instantly upon waking, that had knownhis name before he told me, that had sent heat pooling low in my belly when our fingers touched.
“Maybe,” I admitted grudgingly. “But where I come from, people date before they start throwing around terms like ‘fate’ and ‘mate.’ They get to know each other. They build trust.”
He considered this, his expression thoughtful. “Then we will...date.”
The way he said it—like he was testing out a foreign concept—made me laugh despite myself. “Sure. Dinner and a movie in alien jungle land. Sounds perfect.”
“I can hunt for you,” he offered, completely serious. “The finest prey.”
“Oh my god,” I said, torn between horror and amusement. “Let’s put a pin in the hunting thing for now. I just...I need to get my bearings. Figure out where I am, how I got here, how to get home.”
At the mention of home, something shifted in his expression. A shadow passed over his features, too quick to interpret.
“The portal has been unstable for many cycles. It activated for you, but I cannot guarantee it will function again to return you.”
The implication hit me like a physical blow. “You’re saying I might be stuck here? On GL-7?”
“It is possible.”
“No,” I said firmly. “No way. I have a life back home. A brother who will notice I’m missing. A podcast with listeners who’ll wonder why I’ve suddenly ghosted them. I can’t just—” I gestured wildly at the jungle around us, “—disappear into space!”
I tried to stand, but the vines, while looser, still held me securely. Not restraining, exactly, but certainly not letting me storm off in a huff either.
Lor reached out, his large hand hovering just above my shoulder, seeking permission. When I didn’t pull away, he placed it gently on my upper arm, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric of my t-shirt.
“I will help you,” he said, the transmission vibrating through both the vine and his touch. “Whether to find a way home or to make a life here. You are my kassari. Your well-being is now my purpose.”
The sincerity in those words, in the golden depths of his eyes, made my throat tighten. I had always prided myself on being self-sufficient, on never needing anyone. The thought of this powerful alien warrior declaring himself my protector should have annoyed me. Instead, it unlocked something in my chest—a door I’d kept firmly closed since my parents’ death.
“I don’t even know you,” I said softly.
His hand moved from my arm to cup my face, the pad of his thumb brushing my cheekbone with surprising gentleness for someone with retractable claws. “Then know this: I will never harm you. I will never lie to you. I am yours as you are mine, by the will of the stars themselves.”
The conviction in his voice—in the feeling that transferred through his touch—was staggering. And absolutely terrifying.
I’d come to this abandoned military bunker looking for a story. Something to boost my podcast numbers, to validate my years of chasing the unexplained. I’d found...this. An alien planet. A sentient jungle. A warrior from another world who believed we were destined for each other.
It was too much. My brain short-circuited, and I did what I always did when overwhelmed—I deflected with humor.
