Page 30 of Reluctantly Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #3)

Owen

The rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement matches the pounding beat in my earbuds.

Six miles in, and I'm finally reaching that state where my mind empties of everything except the music and the movement.

Sweat pours down my chest and back, the late afternoon sun still strong enough to make running shirtless a necessity rather than a choice.

This is the only time I feel something close to peace these days—when I push my body hard enough that there's no room for thoughts of blue skin and golden eyes. No space for wondering about what might have been.

I round the corner onto my street, slowing to a cool-down jog for the last quarter mile. My building comes into view, unremarkable in the row of similar brick structures. Just another apartment in Chicago, occupied by just another ex-military guy trying to figure out his next move.

I take the stairs two at a time, still moving to the beat pulsing through my earbuds. My muscles burn pleasantly from exertion, my skin slick with sweat. A hot shower and protein shake are the only things on my mind as I fish my keys from the pocket of my running shorts.

The door swings open, and I step inside, tugging my earbuds out as I kick the door closed behind me. The sudden absence of music makes the apartment seem unusually quiet. I toss my keys on the small table by the door, heading straight for the kitchen and the refrigerator.

It's not until I'm halfway across the living room that a flicker of movement in my peripheral vision makes me freeze.

Someone is sitting on my couch.

Military training kicks in instantly. I drop into a defensive stance, muscles tensing, eyes locking onto the intruder, mind already calculating distance, angles, potential weapons within reach.

Then my brain processes what my eyes are seeing, and everything stops.

Blue-tinted skin. Golden eyes. The subtle glow of bioluminescence that responds to my presence by brightening perceptibly.

Ry.

He sits perfectly upright on my couch, looking both completely out of place and strangely right in my small apartment.

He's wearing what I recognize as standard Nereidan attire—that slightly iridescent fabric that shifts with movement—and his expression is attempting scientific neutrality but failing spectacularly as patterns of light pulse beneath his skin.

"Hello, Owen," he says, his formal tone at odds with the rapid brightening of his bioluminescence.

I stand frozen, acutely aware that I'm wearing nothing but thin running shorts, my body still glistening with sweat, my hair likely sticking up in all directions. This is not how I imagined our reunion. Not that I imagined we'd have one at all.

"Ry," I finally manage, my voice coming out rougher than intended. "What... how are you in my apartment?" I shake my head. I know the answer to that. "You transported into my apartment," I state flatly. "Without warning."

"I apologize for entering without permission," he says, his formal tone at odds with the way his eyes keep wandering over my bare chest. "But appearing outside your building seemed inadvisable."

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it—partly from the absurdity of finding him sitting there as if we'd arranged this meeting, partly from the sheer shock of seeing him at all.

"Why are you here, Ry?" I ask, running a hand through my sweat-dampened hair. "I thought the assessment was over. I thought I'd never see you again."

Something flickers across his features, and the patterns of light beneath his skin shift in a way I recognize as emotional response, though I couldn't name the specific emotion.

"The Council has authorized a final assessment period," he says, his voice carefully controlled. "Seventy-two hours to determine if there is potential for an empathic bond between us."

"An empathic bond," I repeat. "Like what your brothers have with their humans."

"Yes." He stands, his movements precise and controlled, though his bioluminescence betrays his agitation. "The initial assessment did not yield conclusive results regarding bond compatibility. The Council has granted this final opportunity based on... various factors."

"Various factors," I echo, unable to keep a hint of amusement from my voice. Even now, he's trying to maintain scientific detachment.

"Your medical expertise was of particular interest," he continues, not quite meeting my eyes. "The integration program would benefit significantly from human medical knowledge adapted to Nereidan physiology."

I step closer to him, close enough to see the subtle tells I'd learned to recognize during our three days together—the slight tension in his shoulders, the carefully controlled breathing, the way his eyes want to linger on me but keep darting away.

"Is that the only reason you're here, Ry?" I ask, deliberately using the shortened version of his name that I know affects him. "For my medical expertise?"

The flash of bioluminescence that ripples across his skin at the nickname is all the answer I need, but he attempts to maintain his professional demeanor.

"The assessment has multiple objectives," he says stiffly. "Bond compatibility is the primary focus, but your potential contribution to our society is also relevant."

I'm close enough now that I can see the rapid pulse at the base of his throat, the way his pupils have dilated slightly. Something shifts in my chest—a tension I've been carrying since I returned to Earth suddenly transforming into something lighter, something like hope.

"Seventy-two hours," I say. "And then what?"

His formal mask slips slightly. "If no bond forms, or if you choose not to return with me permanently after the assessment, then that is the end. There will be no further contact. The Council was explicit about this being the final opportunity."

The finality in his voice makes something twist in my gut. A last chance. Three days to determine our future, with no possibility of revisiting the decision later.

"And if a bond does form?" I ask, my voice lower than I intended.

"Then you would be invited to return to my world permanently," he says. "To become part of our society. To..." he hesitates, scientific vocabulary apparently failing him, "to be with me."

The simple honesty of those last four words hits me harder than any elaborate explanation could have.

"You're asking me to leave Earth behind. Permanently." It's not really a question, but I need to hear him say it.

"Yes." No scientific qualifications, no formal explanations. Just that single syllable, loaded with everything he's not saying.

I should need time to think about this. I should have questions, concerns, practical considerations to work through.

Instead, I find myself already calculating what I would need to pack, what arrangements I would need to make.

Because the truth is, there's not much holding me here.

No family I'm close to, no job I care about, no connections I couldn't leave behind.

And on the other side of the equation: Ry'eth. The chance to explore whatever this is between us. The opportunity to use my medical skills in a way I never could have imagined.

"When do we leave?" I ask.

His bioluminescence explodes in a display so bright it momentarily illuminates the entire apartment like daylight. His eyes widen, and he actually takes a small step backward as if physically impacted by my response.

"You—you—" he tries, then stops, swallows, and tries again. "The assessment. You agree. To participate?" Each phrase comes out as its own separate thought, his usual fluid speech pattern completely disrupted.

I grin at seeing the normally composed scientist so thoroughly rattled. "I agree to the assessment," I confirm, taking another step closer. "The seventy-two hours will tell us if we can form a bond. That's what we're here to find out, right?"

He nods rapidly, clearly trying to regain his composure. "That is... a reasonable approach. Methodologically sound."

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. Even completely flustered, he defaults to scientific terminology.

"I need to shower," I say, taking a deliberate step toward him rather than the bathroom. The blue glow beneath his skin intensifies, pulsing in a way that tells me exactly how much my proximity is affecting him. "I'm going in now. Are you joining me?"

For a moment, I think he might actually short-circuit. The bioluminescence goes from steady glow to strobing so bright it's almost painful to look at. His mouth opens and closes several times, no sound emerging. When he finally manages to speak, his voice has jumped at least an octave higher.

"I—you—that—not—protocol—assessment—" he stammers, a string of disconnected words that make absolutely no sense together.

I laugh, unable to help myself. "I'll take that as a no. For now." I wink at him, enjoying the fresh wave of blue light that pulses through his skin in response. "Give me fifteen minutes to get cleaned up and pack. Then we can go."

As I turn toward the bathroom, I glance back over my shoulder. "You'll still be here when I get out, right? This isn't going to turn out to be some weird hallucination brought on by heatstroke?"

He swallows visibly, still struggling to compose himself. "I will be here, Owen."

I nod and head to the bathroom, turning on the shower to let the water heat up. I strip off my running shorts, tossing them in the hamper, and step under the spray. The hot water feels good on my tired muscles, washing away the sweat and grime from my run.

I've barely started to soap up when I hear a soft knock on the bathroom door.

"Owen?" Ry's voice is hesitant, almost nervous. "May I... would it be acceptable if I..."

I smile to myself. "Door's unlocked, Ry."

There's a moment of silence, then the door opens slowly. Ry stands in the doorway, his skin glowing with a mix of nervousness and something darker, more primal. His eyes move over me, taking in every inch of my naked, wet body.