After dinner, I’m curled upwith Riven on his massive sectional sofa. The living room is gorgeous, with expansive windows overlooking the storm, a stone fireplace crackling warmly, and furniture that’s clearly been scaled up to accommodate his size but somehow doesn’t make me feel tiny.
Maybe it’s the soft throws draped everywhere, or the way he’s dimmed the lights to create a cozy atmosphere, but this feels less like a monster’s lair and more like the world’s most luxurious cabin retreat.
“What would you like to watch?” Riven asks as he reaches for the remote with one of his legs. Even sitting, he’s enormous, his multiple eyes scanning my face for preferences.
“What do you usually watch?”
“Love Island,” he says without a trace of embarrassment. “I’m following the current season’s alliance formations and territorial disputes very closely.”
I grin. “And how’s it been playing out?”
“Fascinating developments. Marcus is clearly using a long-term manipulation approach, hedging his alliances until he’s sure they’ll pay out, while Jessica’s employing short-term coalition building.” He reaches for an oversized remote. “Would you like to see the latest episode? The preview suggested significant relationship restructuring.”
“Absolutely. I must hear your analysis.”
Riven’s entire posture shifts as he queues up the show, like a professor preparing to deliver a lecture on his favorite subject. The opening credits roll with their usual dramatic music and manufactured tension, but I find myself completely distracted by his running commentary.
“Notice how Marcus approaches the group setting,” he says with the intensity of a nature documentary narrator. “He’s establishing dominance through physical positioning and vocal volume, but failing to read the social cues from the female participants.”
“Marcus is an idiot,” I agree, amused by his serious investment in the drama.
“Indeed. His tactics might work for intimidating rival males, but they’re counterproductive for attracting mates. The females clearly value emotional intelligence over physical dominance displays.”
“You’ve really thought about this.”
“Strategy is strategy, regardless of species. Though human courtship rituals are unnecessarily complex compared to Vyder practices.”
“How do Vyders court?”
“We build an impressive web, catch something beautiful, and keep it.” His eyes flick to me meaningfully. “Much more straightforward.”
A little thrill shoots through me at the reminder of being caught in his web, completely helpless while he touched me exactly how he wanted. I shift slightly on the couch, aware of his size and presence beside me, and I’m half-certain he’s aware of my arousal. I try to focus on the TV.
On screen, one of the contestants is having a dramatic conversation with the newest arrival, and Riven leans forward, completely absorbed.
“See how she’s mirroring his body language? That’s a positive social indicator. But watch his eye contact patterns; they’re too intense. It’s starting to make her uncomfortable.”
I watch the interaction with new eyes, and he’s absolutely right. The woman keeps looking away, her smile becoming more and more forced.
“So did you read about social cues online or something?”
“No. Predator instincts. Reading body language is essential for hunting.” He pauses, considering. “Though apparently it’s also useful for understanding reality television.”
“You’re better at reading people than most humans are.”
“Years of observation. When you can’t participate in social interactions, you get very good at analyzing them from the outside.”
There’s something wistful in his voice that makes my chest tighten. I think about him spending decades alone, watching the world from afar, learning about connection without actually experiencing it.
“Well, now you’re participating,” I say softly.
“With mixed results,” he says dryly, gesturing toward the kitchen where he earlier created what could generously be called a natural disaster.
“The cooking will improve. The conversation is already perfect.”
He looks at me with something that might be surprise, and I realize he’s been thinking of tonight as a series of failures rather than successes. In his mind, he probably ruined dinner and failed to be a proper host, when actually he’s been thoughtful, funny, and surprisingly easy to be around.
I give him a little nudge and say, “You’re doing good. Don’t worry.”
