Page 23 of Reluctantly Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #3)

Ry'eth

It's been one full rotation cycle since I watched Owen dissolve into light and return to Earth. One day of trying to compile my final report. One day of failing to find the right words to describe the assessment while maintaining scientific objectivity.

I stand outside my brother Zeph'hai's dwelling in the coastal district, the sound of the mineral sea a constant murmur in the background.

I've delayed this visit as long as possible.

Both my brothers have attempted to contact me since my return, their messages carrying tones of concern that I've ignored.

But I can't avoid them forever, especially with my Council presentation tomorrow.

Before I can activate the entrance signal, the door slides open. Zeph stands there, his expression shifting from surprise to obvious relief.

"Ry'eth! You're back." He reaches forward to clasp my forearm in the traditional greeting between siblings. "We've been worried. Your communication silence was... concerning."

"I had reports to complete," I say, the excuse sounding hollow even to me.

Zeph gives me a look that says he doesn't believe me but won't challenge the statement. "Come in. Kav'eth is here too."

I hesitate. "I just came to inform you of my return. I have preparation to do for the Council presentation—"

"Which isn't until tomorrow," he interrupts. "You can spare an hour for family."

The word 'family' now encompasses more than just my brothers, I realize as I step inside.

The dwelling is warm and filled with unfamiliar scents, human cooking, I recognize after a moment.

In the common area, I see Kav'eth sitting beside his human partner, Derek, while Jake, Zeph's human, appears to be explaining something animated about Earth entertainment.

They all look up when I enter.

"The prodigal brother returns," Jake says with a smile. I've learned enough about human expressions to recognize the warmth in it, though the reference escapes me.

Kav'eth rises, his formal posture relaxing slightly. "It is good to see you well, Ry'eth. Your lack of communication was concerning."

"As I told Zeph'hai, I had reports to complete," I repeat, already regretting my decision to come here. The domesticity of the scene, my two brothers with their human partners, so obviously comfortable together, creates a strange hollowness in my chest.

"You should have told us you were back safely," Kav'eth admonishes, though without the sharp edge his reprimands usually carry.

"I'm telling you now," I say, remaining near the doorway.

"How was your assessment?" Derek asks, his directness typical of what I've observed in humans. "Did you find it as educational as your brothers did?"

I feel my skin betray me before I can control it, a flash of bioluminescence that I quickly suppress. "The assessment was completed according to protocol. My report will be delivered to the Council tomorrow."

"That's not what he asked," Jake says, studying me with an intensity I find uncomfortable. "He asked how it was."

"It was..." I search for a word that conveys nothing while satisfying their curiosity. "Informative."

"Sit," Zeph encourages, gesturing to an empty cushion. "You look exhausted."

He's not wrong. I haven't entered a proper hydration cycle since returning, and the signs are becoming visible, the slight dullness to my normally vibrant skin, the faint dryness at the edges of my facial ridges, the darkening around my eyes.

I've ignored the early warning signals my body has been sending, too consumed by the effort of maintaining my composure, of completing my report, of not thinking about Owen.

I don't want to sit. I don't want to be here, surrounded by their happiness, their bonded completeness, while the absence of Owen creates a vacuum inside me that seems to grow with each passing moment.

But refusing would only prompt more questions, so I lower myself onto the cushion, keeping my posture rigid despite the fatigue making my limbs feel heavy.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Jake asks. "You look like you could use it."

I open my mouth to request something familiar, but what comes out instead is, "Hot chocolate. With cinnamon. And whipped cream."

The words hang in the air, as surprising to me as they clearly are to everyone else in the room. Jake's eyebrows shoot up.

"Hot chocolate? With cinnamon and whipped cream?" he repeats, exchanging a look with Zeph.

"I mean—" I begin to correct myself, but Jake is already nodding.

"Coming right up," he says, moving toward their food preparation area. "Didn't know you'd developed a taste for Earth drinks."

I didn't either. The words had come out without conscious thought, surprising me as much as everyone else. I stare down at my hands, noticing for the first time how the usually vibrant blue of my skin has dulled to a muted shade that indicates dehydration.

"Were you compatible?" Jake asks bluntly from the food area, his back to me as he prepares the drink.

"No," I say, the word like ash in my mouth. "We were not."

"No empathic bond," I add when Jake continues to look at me expectantly, turning to hand the steaming mug to Zeph, who brings it to me. "We completed the assessment as scheduled, and he was returned to Earth precisely according to protocol."

I see my brothers exchange a glance. They don't believe me, or at least they don't believe that's the full story.

I accept the mug from Zeph, my hands betraying me with a slight tremor.

The rich, sweet aroma hits me, and for a moment I'm back in the dim nutrition center, Owen's eyes bright with amusement as he watched me taste the unfamiliar beverage for the first time.

The memory is so vivid that I nearly spill the hot liquid.

"Careful," Zeph murmurs, steadying my hands with his own. His eyes widen slightly as he touches me. "Ry'eth, your temperature regulation is off. When did you last complete a full hydration cycle?"

"I'm fine," I say, pulling my hands away.

"You're not," he insists, his scientific training coming to the fore. "Your skin moisture levels are dangerously low, and your thermal regulation is compromised. I can feel it."

"I've been busy," I say, taking a deliberate sip of the hot chocolate to forestall further discussion. The sweetness, warmth, and faint spice of the cinnamon overwhelm my senses. Owen's drink. I struggle to keep my expression neutral as my skin betrays me with a pulse of blue-green light.

"That's too bad," Derek says, in that casual Earth way that attempts to minimize discomfort. "He seemed interesting from what Kav'eth told me. A combat medic, right?"

"Yes."

"With field experience," Kav'eth adds, watching me closely. "An impressive skill set that would be valuable to our medical knowledge base."

I close my eyes briefly as the room tilts. The lack of proper hydration affects me more than I've admitted, and the emotional strain only compounds it. When I open my eyes, all four of them watch me with obvious concern.

"When did you last eat?" Jake asks with that human directness.

"I..." I begin, then realize I can't actually remember. "Yesterday. I think."

Jake makes a sound remarkably similar to one Owen would make, a sort of disapproving huff. "I'm making you something right now. No arguments."

I don't have the energy to protest as he returns to the food preparation area. The hot chocolate warms my hands through the mug, and I focus on that sensation rather than the concerned looks my brothers are giving me.

"The northern archipelago restoration project will be physically demanding," Kav'eth says after a moment. "You won't be able to contribute effectively in this condition."

"I'll recover," I say. "I just need a proper hydration cycle."

"You need more than that," Zeph says quietly. "You need to be honest with yourself about what happened during this assessment."

I stare into the mug, watching the whipped cream dissolve into the dark liquid. "Nothing happened that wasn't documented in my report."

"And what about the things that can't be documented?" Zeph presses gently. "The things that don't fit into data fields and protocol parameters?"

"I don't know what you're referring to," I say stiffly, but even as the words leave my mouth, my skin betrays me with a flash of blue-green light.

Jake leans forward suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he studies me. "What's that on your neck?"

"What?" My hand goes automatically to my neck, touching the spot where Owen's teeth had pressed into my skin during our final, desperate embrace before the transport countdown.

"That mark," Jake says, a knowing expression crossing his face. "Looks like a bite to me."

I feel my skin illuminate with mortification, the blue-green glow impossible to suppress. "That's... it's merely... it's not relevant to the assessment."

Zeph's bioluminescence flickers in surprise. "You and the human were intimate?"

"Physical interaction was part of the assessment," I say stiffly, though my words are belied by the way I nearly spill my drink as another wave of dizziness passes through me. "It has no bearing on compatibility without an empathic bond."

"Uh-huh," Jake says skeptically, returning from the kitchen area with a plate of food. He sets it in front of me, something that looks surprisingly like the breakfast Owen made on our last morning together. "And how do you feel right now, exactly?"

The sight of the food, so reminiscent of what Owen prepared, makes my throat tighten painfully. "My feelings are not relevant to, "

"Answer the question, Ry'eth," Kav'eth interrupts, his tone gentle but firm.

I look at my oldest brother, at the depth of understanding in his eyes, and something inside me crumbles. The mug shakes in my hands, hot chocolate threatening to spill over. Derek quietly takes it from me before I can drop it.

"I feel like I'm missing a limb," I admit, the words barely audible. "Like there's an empty space where something vital should be."