Page 14 of Accidentally Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #1)

Zeph

I wake before Jake, my internal chronometer indicating just over fourteen hours remain before the transportation cycle becomes reversible. Fourteen hours before I must return him to Earth and submit my final report to the Council.

He sleeps peacefully beside me, one arm thrown carelessly across my chest, his breathing deep and even.

In sleep, his features lose that guarded quality he maintains when awake, the slight tension around his eyes, the ready smirk that serves as both weapon and shield.

Now, he looks younger, more vulnerable. More precious.

I should not be thinking of him as precious. I should be thinking of him as a research subject. A representative sample of humanity. Data.

But as I watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, I cannot make myself believe that lie any longer. Jake Morrison is not data. He is... essential. And in less than fifteen hours, I must let him go.

My brother's warning echoes in my mind: Do not jeopardize everything we have worked for because of one human.

But he is not just one human. He is Jake. The human who laughed at my nakedness and questioned our research protocols. Who taught me to cook eggs and told me that food is love. Who looks at me with those eyes that see too much and somehow find me worthy anyway.

I carefully extricate myself from his embrace, needing distance to organize my thoughts. He stirs slightly but doesn't wake, simply curling into the warm spot I've left behind. The gesture sends an unexpected pang through me.

I should maintain professional distance. I should remember my duty to my people. I should focus on completing the assessment and preparing my recommendations.

I should not be memorizing the curve of his spine or the way his hair falls across his forehead or how his lips part slightly in sleep.

I retreat to the common area to prepare sustenance. The synthesizer hums to life, producing the bitter stimulant Jake has indicated preference for, "coffee." The aroma fills the air, rich and complex, and I find myself appreciating it simply because it reminds me of him.

This is... problematic.

I am preparing to check the mission parameters again when I hear movement from the sleeping area. Jake appears in the doorway, dressed only in the loose sleeping garments I provided, his hair disheveled in a way that makes my bioluminescence threaten to activate.

"Hey," he says, voice still rough with sleep. "I woke up and you were gone."

There's a vulnerability in the statement that catches me off-guard. "I did not wish to disturb your rest."

"I would have preferred being disturbed," he says with a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Especially since we're on a countdown."

So he is aware of our diminishing time as well. "Fourteen hours," I confirm, and immediately regret the precision when I see his expression falter.

"That's... specific." He moves toward the synthesizer, investigating the coffee I've prepared. "You made this for me?"

"You have expressed preference for it upon waking."

"I have expressed preference," Jake repeats, mimicking my formal tone before breaking into a genuine smile. "You're kind of adorable when you go all clinical, you know that?"

I do not know how to respond to this. Adorable is not a word typically used to describe Nereidan researchers. And clinical is not how I wish to be with Jake, especially not now, with our remaining time rapidly diminishing.

Jake takes a sip of the coffee, closing his eyes briefly in apparent satisfaction. "Not bad. Definitely better than the pancakes, version one."

The reference to our earlier cooking experiment creates a warmth in my chest that I should not indulge. I should maintain emotional distance. I should begin the day's assessment protocols. I should—

"Want to go for a swim?" Jake asks, interrupting my thoughts. "I've been thinking about those pools since we were in them yesterday."

The suggestion sends contradictory signals through my system. The prospect of sharing the cleansing pools with Jake again is deeply appealing. But it also represents another shared experience, another memory that will become painful once he is gone.

"If you wish," I say, my voice more formal than intended.

Jake's eyes narrow slightly. "I do wish. But do you? You seem... different this morning."

"Different how?" I attempt to sound casual, though I suspect I am not succeeding.

"More distant." Jake sets down his coffee cup and approaches me, stopping close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. "Like you're already saying goodbye."

His perception is uncomfortably accurate. "I am simply... preparing for the inevitable conclusion of our assessment period."

"Right. The assessment." Jake studies my face for a moment. "Well, I still want to swim with you. For research purposes, of course. Gotta make sure humans and Nereidans are compatible in aquatic environments, right?"

Despite myself, I feel my expression softening. "That would be a prudent area of investigation."

"Prudent," Jake repeats with a small smile. "Lead the way, then. For science."

The walk to the cleansing pools is quiet, filled with a tension I don't know how to address.

Jake walks beside me, occasionally brushing against my arm in a way that seems deliberate rather than accidental.

Each contact sends a small surge of warmth through our empathic connection, which has grown stronger since our intimate activities.

When we reach the pools, I activate the lighting sequence, illuminating the space with the soft blue-green glow that mimics our home oceans. Jake's eyes widen as he takes in the sight.

"It's so beautiful, I don't think I'll ever get tired of looking at it," he says, moving to the edge of the main pool. "The way the light plays on the water... it's like something out of a dream."

"It is designed to approximate the coastal waters of our homeworld," I explain, finding comfort in factual information.

"The mineral composition is similar as well, though modified for human safety.

Though, even without that modification, you would only feel a slight tingle after prolonged exposure. "

Jake turns to look at me, something unreadable in his expression. "You really thought of everything, didn't you? Even before you knew which human you'd end up with."

"Preparation is valued in Nereidan culture."

"And what about adaptation?" Jake asks, beginning to remove his sleeping garments with casual confidence. "How does your culture feel about that?"

I watch as he undresses, unable to look away despite knowing I should maintain professional demeanor. His body is now familiar to me, yet the sight of it still creates a response I cannot fully control. The faint glow begins beneath my skin, betraying my reaction.

"Adaptation is... necessary," I manage to say, my voice rougher than intended. "Though often challenging."

Jake steps into the water, sighing with pleasure as it envelops him. "Challenging how?"

I remove my own garments and join him in the pool, feeling the immediate comfort of submersion. For a moment, I allow myself to simply enjoy the sensation of being partially in my natural element, feeling the gentle current against my skin and the subtle vibration of the minerals in the water.

"Zeph?" Jake prompts, moving closer to me in the water. "Challenging how?"

"Change requires us to... reevaluate our understanding of what is essential," I say carefully. "What we can retain, and what we must let go."

Jake's expression shifts, a flash of something like hurt crossing his features before he masks it. "And I'm something you have to let go, is that it?"

The direct question catches me unprepared. "Jake..."

"No, it's fine. I get it." He moves away, floating on his back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "This was always temporary. A mistake that turned into a... what, a pleasant diversion? An interesting research anomaly?"

"You know that is not true," I say, unable to maintain distance when I can feel his hurt through our connection.

"Do I?" Jake rights himself in the water, facing me fully now. "Because it feels like you've been pulling away since I woke up. Like you've already decided this is over."

"It has to be over," I say, the words painful to speak aloud. "In fourteen hours, you return to Earth. I submit my recommendation to the Council. That is the protocol."

"Protocol," Jake repeats, the word heavy with something like disappointment. "Always back to protocol."

I do not know how to respond to this. He is not wrong, I have been retreating behind formality and duty because the alternative is to acknowledge the growing ache at the thought of his departure.

Jake moves closer again, the water rippling around him. Through our empathic bond, I can feel a complex mixture of emotions, frustration, sadness, longing, and something deeper that neither of us has named aloud.

"I can feel you," he says quietly. "Through this bond we've formed. I can sense your sadness underneath all that Nereidan composure."

I look away, unable to meet his gaze. "The empathic bond was unexpected. It typically requires more time to develop this level of sensitivity."

"But it is. And it's telling me that you don't want me to go any more than I want to leave."

His admission hits me with unexpected force. I had not allowed myself to consider that Jake might be equally reluctant to end our time together. "You... do not wish to return to Earth?"

Jake laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Return to what, exactly? My crappy apartment? My job making coffee for ungrateful customers? My ex-boyfriend renovating the apartment upstairs? There's not exactly a lot pulling me back."

"But your life is there," I insist, even as something hopeful and dangerous begins to unfurl in my chest. "Your species. Your home."

"Home is relative," Jake says, moving so close that our bodies nearly touch in the water. "I've felt more at home in the last three days than I have in years."