Page 13 of Reluctantly Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #3)

"It would be highly inefficient," he says, as if this should be obvious. "Our current method allows for optimal genetic selection while eliminating the physical risks and limitations of biological pregnancy."

"That's fascinating," I say, meaning it. Despite everything I've seen in the past two days, there are still aspects of alien life that can completely surprise me. "So both parents contribute genetically, but no one carries the baby."

"Correct. The gestation chamber provides ideal conditions for development, monitored continuously by medical specialists." He takes another pancake, choosing a chocolate one this time. "The process also allows for minor genetic modifications to correct for potential health issues."

"Designer babies," I say, nodding. "We've been debating the ethics of that on Earth for decades."

"It is not 'design' in the way I suspect you mean," he clarifies. "We do not select for appearance or arbitrary traits. The modifications are strictly health-related."

"Still pretty advanced compared to human reproduction," I point out. "We're still doing it the old-fashioned biological way, for the most part."

"An inefficient and physically taxing process," he observes.

"But a pretty intimate one," I counter with a small smile, enjoying the immediate flush of luminescence that spreads across his skin.

He focuses intently on his food, clearly flustered by the direction of the conversation. "What about your parents?" he asks, obviously trying to shift focus. "You mentioned your mother made these pancakes."

The question brings me back to thoughts I generally prefer to avoid.

"Yeah," I say, measuring my words. "Mom was around when I was younger, but got more career-focused as I got older.

Dad was always working. Standard middle-class American upbringing, parents who provide financially but aren't exactly present emotionally. "

"That sounds... difficult," Ry'eth says, his tone suggesting he's uncertain how to respond.

I shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. "It was fine. Lots of kids have it way worse."

"Still, the absence of emotional support during development would have effects," he points out with scientific precision.

"Probably why I joined the military," I say with a short laugh. "Looking for structure, purpose, all that psychological stuff."

I take another pancake, dipping it more carelessly now as memories surface. "We don't talk much these days. Not since I came out."

"Came out?" he repeats, clearly unfamiliar with the term.

"Told them I was gay," I clarify. "That I'm attracted to men, not women."

"Ah," he says, understanding dawning. "Your sexual orientation caused familial discord?"

I laugh, genuinely amused by his clinical phrasing. "That's one way of putting it. But yeah, they weren't thrilled. They're not openly hostile about it, just... uncomfortable. We do the obligatory holiday calls, but that's about it."

"I'm sorry," he says, and something in his tone suggests he actually means it.

"It's fine," I say automatically. "Like I said, plenty of people have it worse. At least they didn't kick me out or anything."

Ry'eth studies me with those golden eyes that seem to see more than I'm comfortable sharing. I decide to turn the question back to him.

"What about you?" I ask. "Do you want kids someday? Little blue Ry'eths running around, lecturing everyone about proper environmental protocols?"

A hint of a smile touches his lips at the image. "No. My work requires extensive travel to remote research sites, often in hostile conditions. It is not conducive to partnership, much less offspring."

"I get that," I nod, recognizing the parallel to my own life. "Same with the military, hard to maintain relationships when you're deployed for months at a time. Part of why my marriage fell apart."

"That was not your failing," Ry'eth says with unexpected firmness. "Your former mate's betrayal during your deployment was dishonorable. The fault was theirs, not yours."

I'm momentarily caught off guard by his vehemence. It's touching that he remembers and seems genuinely offended on my behalf.

"Thanks," I say, offering him a small smile. "Not many people see it that way."

"Then 'many people' are incorrect," he states simply, as if it's an indisputable scientific fact.

"Still," I admit, voicing thoughts I rarely share, "sometimes I think about it. Having a family, I mean. Someone to come home to. Maybe someday, when I figure out what I'm doing with my life post-military."

Ry'eth's expression softens slightly. "Perhaps you will find that," he says, surprising me with the sentiment.

"Maybe," I agree, finishing my last pancake. "These turned out pretty good, huh?"

"They were excellent," he acknowledges. "As was the beverage pairing."

"We make a good team," I say with a smile, and notice a subtle flicker of light beneath his skin in response.

He begins gathering the dishes, and I join him, the two of us working in comfortable silence to clear the table and return the kitchen to its original state. Our movements fall into an easy rhythm, as if we've done this together many times before.

"Thank you," he says as the last item is put away. "For sharing this aspect of your culture."

"Thanks for the fancy drink," I reply. "What did you call it? Kell-something?"

" Kel'linar ," he corrects, pronouncing it with a melodic inflection my human tongue probably couldn't replicate. "It's traditionally served during celebrations."

A warm, reckless feeling rises in me, and I go with it. "Well, this was definitely something worth celebrating," I say, meeting his eyes. "Our first date."

"This was not a 'date,'" he protests immediately, bioluminescence flaring. "It was a cultural exchange exercise as part of the assessment protocol."

"Right," I say, unable to suppress my smile. "Cultural exchange. With pancakes and fancy drinks and getting to know each other better."

"Precisely," he says, ignoring the knowing look I give him.

"And the kissing earlier," I add, pushing a little further. "Was that part of the assessment protocol too?"

His skin practically glows at the direct reference to our moment in the pool. "That was, I was, it was an aberration."

"An aberration I wouldn't mind repeating," I say softly, taking a step closer to him.

He doesn't retreat, which I take as a good sign. I raise my hand to rest gently against his cheek, feeling the subtle warmth of his skin.

"You're glowing again," I murmur, captivated by the patterns of light beneath his skin. "It's beautiful."

"It's an involuntary physiological response," he says, his voice not quite steady.

"To what?" I ask, running my thumb along his cheekbone.

"To... stimuli," he replies, the scientific term somehow endearing in this context.

I smile. "Am I stimulating you, Ry'eth?"

I deliberately use his full name, pronouncing it as carefully as I can. Something flickers in his golden eyes at the sound, and before I can analyze it further, I lean in and brush my lips against his, even more gently than before.

This time, he doesn't pull away. Instead, to my surprise and delight, he leans into the kiss, his hand coming to rest hesitantly against my chest. I can feel his touch through the thin fabric of my shirt, tentative but unmistakably present.

I deepen the kiss slightly, keeping it gentle, conscious that this is all new to him. The patterns of light beneath his skin pulse in waves that I can feel against my palm, a strange and beautiful sensation unlike anything I've experienced before.

When we finally separate, I keep my eyes on his, searching for any sign of regret or discomfort. I find none, only a complex mixture of wonder and uncertainty.

"We have less than two days left," I say quietly, voicing the reality we've both been avoiding. "After that, you'll be done with your assessment and I'll go back to Earth."

"Yes," he agrees, and I see something shift in his expression.

"I wish we had more time," I admit, not bothering to hide the truth.

He steps back slightly, as if needing physical distance. "The assessment timeline is fixed," he says, his voice steadier now. "Three days is the standard protocol."

I nod, accepting his retreat without pressing further. "Then we should make the most of the time we have left."

"There are still several assessment parameters to complete," he reminds me, clearly more comfortable with scientific procedure than whatever is happening between us.

"Of course," I agree, though I suspect he can tell I see through the deflection. "What's next on the agenda, then?"

He consults a data pad, his movements precise and controlled once more. "We should complete a full environmental compatibility analysis. This includes exposure to various Nereidan botanical specimens to check for allergic reactions."

"Plants," I say, nodding. "Sounds safe enough."

"Most are harmless to humans," he confirms. "But we must be thorough."

"Always thorough," I say with a small smile. "Lead the way, Environmental Specialist."

As we leave the kitchen, I find myself intensely aware of Ry'eth beside me, the subtle glow beneath his skin, the precise way he moves, the lingering warmth where my lips had touched his. Two more days, I think. Just two more days before I go back to Earth and he returns to his research.

The thought should make me focus on the present, enjoying what little time we have. Instead, it leaves a hollow feeling in my chest that I haven't felt since waking up alone after Derek left for good.

I'm getting attached, I realize with a sinking feeling. To an alien scientist who's made it clear that his work is his priority, that relationships are a distraction, that our time together has an expiration date.

And despite knowing better, despite all my experience with things that don't last, I can't seem to stop myself from wanting more.