Page 33 of Reluctantly Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #3)

"And if we do?" Owen asks, his voice soft but intent. "What happens then?"

"You would be invited to stay," I say, turning more fully to face him. "To be with me. Permanently."

His eyes search mine. "And if we don't bond?"

"Then we part ways," I admit, the words painful to speak. "The Council was clear that this is our only chance."

Owen is quiet for a moment, his fingers laced with mine. "That's a lot riding on seventy-two hours," he finally says.

"Yes," I agree, unable to offer any scientific reassurance. "But I'm glad to have this chance, whatever the outcome."

"Me too," he says simply.

"What does it feel like?" he asks after a moment. "This bond? How will we know if it's happening?"

I consider his question carefully. "My brothers describe it differently. Kav'eth talks about neural resonance, while Zeph'hai describes it more emotionally—a sense of recognition, of finding something essential in another person."

"And what do you think it would feel like for us?"

The question catches me off guard. I haven't allowed myself to imagine this specifically. "I'm not sure," I admit. "But I think... I think I would feel complete in a way I never have before."

Owen's expression softens at my words. "Are you scared?" he asks, surprising me with his perception.

My first instinct is to deny it, to retreat behind scientific objectivity. Instead, I give him the truth. "Yes," I admit quietly. "I'm terrified."

"Of what? That we won't bond?"

"That," I acknowledge, "and..." I meet his eyes directly. "And that we will. That everything will change."

Understanding dawns in his expression. "Change can be scary," he says. "Even good change."

"Yes."

He pulls me closer, his forehead resting against mine. "Whatever happens," he says, "these seventy-two hours are ours. Let's not worry about the outcome yet."

His practical approach resonates with me. "Living in the present moment," I say with a small smile. "I like that."

Owen laughs softly. "That might be the most non-scientific thing I've ever heard you say," he teases, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw.

"I'm discovering there's value in more than just scientific approaches," I reply, leaning slightly into his touch. "Especially when it comes to you."

"Speaking of maximizing experiences," Owen says, his voice dropping lower, "I think we've had enough stargazing for now, don't you?"

My skin brightens immediately in response, but rather than suggesting we move to the sleeping chamber, I find myself curious about the time we've been apart.

"Actually," I say, shifting slightly to look at him better while still remaining in his arms, "I'd like to know what you've been doing since you returned to Earth. "

Owen looks surprised for a moment, then smiles. "You want to talk? Now?"

"Yes," I confirm, hesitantly sliding my hand under the hem of his shirt to rest against the warm skin of his abdomen.

The direct contact sends pleasant waves of bioluminescence across my skin, but I maintain my focus.

"We have seventy-two hours for physical intimacy.

I find I want to know more about you first."

His expression softens as he settles back against the bench, adjusting our position so we're still close, my hand remaining under his shirt. "Okay," he says. "Though there's not much to tell. I've mostly been running and working out since I got back."

"Why running specifically?" I ask, genuinely curious about this activity he seems to find so important.

"It helps me think," he explains, his hand absently stroking my arm. "Or not think, depending on what I need. When I push hard enough physically, everything else falls away for a while."

"You were trying not to think about our time together," I realize, my fingers tracing small patterns against his skin.

"Yeah," he admits. "Didn't work very well, though."

My bioluminescence pulses brighter at this admission. "What else? Did you pursue employment opportunities?"

Owen shakes his head. "Not really. I'm set financially for a while. I sold a few of those mineral samples you gave me."

"The kethrite crystals?" I ask, surprised. "They're quite common on our world, though I suppose they would be considered exotic on Earth."

"Exotic enough that one small stone covered three months' rent," Owen says with a slight laugh. "I only sold three, kept the rest. Seemed wrong somehow to sell all of them."

I'm touched by this sentiment, though I'm not entirely sure why. "You could have sold them all. They were a gift."

"They were from you," he says simply, as if that explains everything. Perhaps it does.

We fall silent for a moment, comfortable in our closeness. My hand continues its exploration under his shirt, fascinated by the warmth of his skin, the subtle differences in texture from my own. I spread my fingers wider, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"What about you?" Owen asks eventually. "Besides the Council presentation, what have you been doing?"

"Preparing for my next research assignment," I reply. "Though I found it difficult to focus properly."

"Oh?" There's a hint of smugness in his voice that I find I don't mind.

"Yes," I admit. "I found myself experiencing frequent... distractions."

"What kind of distractions?" he prompts, clearly enjoying my admission.

I consider being evasive, then decide on honesty. "Memories. Of you. Of our time together. They would intrude at inappropriate moments during my work."

Owen's smile widens. "Good to know I wasn't the only one struggling to focus."

"Indeed," I agree, shifting my position slightly to slide my hand higher under his shirt, feeling the contours of his chest. "I found it particularly difficult during hydration cycles."

His breath catches slightly at my touch, and at my words. "The water reminded you of us having sex, didn't it?"

"Yes," I admit, feeling my skin glow brighter with the memory of what we'd done just hours ago in his bathroom. "The physical sensation was... evocative."

Owen turns slightly, his own hand moving to cup my face. "For someone who claims to struggle with emotions, you're getting pretty good at talking about them, Ry."

"I am finding it easier," I acknowledge. "With you."

His expression softens further at this, and he leans in to kiss me gently. Unlike our earlier urgency, this kiss is slow, deliberate, a conversation without words. When we part, he doesn't move away, keeping our foreheads touching.

"What else do you want to know?" he asks quietly.

I consider the question. There are many things I could ask about Earth, about his experiences, about his plans. Instead, I find myself asking something more personal. "Were you afraid you wouldn't see me again?"

He doesn't answer immediately, his thumb tracing the line of my cheekbone. "Yes," he finally says. "I figured the assessment was over, that was it. Back to normal life." He pauses, then adds, "Except nothing felt normal anymore."

"Because of the exposure to alien technology?" I ask, though I suspect that's not what he means.

Owen laughs softly. "No, because of you. Because after meeting you, Earth felt... incomplete somehow."

The admission sends a wave of emotion through me so strong that my bioluminescence flares brightly enough to cast shadows. "I experienced a similar sensation," I confess. "As if something essential was missing from my environment."

"And now?" he asks, his eyes searching mine.

"Now I feel... more complete," I say, the words inadequate for the sensation but the best I can manage.

Owen doesn't respond verbally, instead pulling me closer for another kiss, this one deeper than the last. My hand, still under his shirt, splays against his chest, feeling his heartbeat accelerate to match my own.

When we separate, both slightly breathless, he smiles. "We should probably get some rest," he suggests. "We've got a big day tomorrow."

"We do?" I ask, not having planned any specific activities.

"Well, I'm assuming you're going to want to run some tests, take some measurements, do whatever scientific things you need to do for this assessment," he says with a teasing smile. "I know how thorough you are with your research."

I start to explain that bond formation isn't something that can be measured with traditional scientific instrumentation, then realize he's joking. "Yes," I agree, matching his tone. "Very thorough assessments. Multiple data points required."

His laugh is warm and genuine. "See? You're getting better at this."

"At what?"

"Not taking everything so literally. Playing along."

I find I'm pleased by this observation. "I am attempting to be more... flexible in my interactions."

"It suits you," Owen says, standing and offering his hand. "Now, about that rest..."

I take his hand, but instead of leading him to the guest quarters he used before, I find myself saying, "My personal quarters are more comfortable."

Owen's eyebrows rise slightly in surprise. "Your quarters? Not the guest room?"

"Yes," I confirm, feeling an unusual nervousness. "If that's acceptable to you."

A warm smile spreads across his face. "More than acceptable," he says, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. "Lead the way."

As we walk through the corridors, I find myself experiencing an unexpected mix of anticipation and anxiety. My personal space is exactly that—personal. I've never shared it with anyone before. The decision to bring Owen there feels significant in a way I hadn't fully anticipated.

Outside my quarters, I hesitate briefly before opening the door.

The space reveals itself—more sparsely decorated than the guest quarters, but with personal touches that reflect my scientific interests.

Specimens from various research expeditions are displayed with careful precision.

A large data terminal occupies one corner, while a sleeping platform larger than the ones in the guest quarters dominates the opposite wall.

"So this is where you hide away," Owen says, looking around with obvious interest. He moves to examine a shelf of collected specimens, his fingers hovering near but not touching a crystalline formation from the northern continent. "It's very you."

"Is that a compliment?" I ask, genuinely unsure.

He turns to me with a smile. "Definitely. Organized but interesting. Full of things worth discovering."

The observation sends a pleasant wave of bioluminescence across my skin. I move closer to him, drawn by an impulse I don't try to analyze. When I reach him, my hand finds its way under his shirt again, seeking the warm skin beneath.

Owen's breath catches slightly, but he covers my hand with his own, holding it in place. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, his eyes searching mine. "We have time. We don't need to rush anything."

The question surprises me. "You're concerned about moving too quickly? After what we did in your shower mere hours ago?"

A small laugh escapes him. "That was... spontaneous. Heat of the moment. This feels different." His expression grows more serious. "This is your space, Ry. Your private domain. I want to be sure you're comfortable with me being here."

The consideration in his words touches me unexpectedly deeply. "I am sure," I tell him, moving my free hand to touch his face. "I want you here. In my space. With me."

His expression softens, and he leans into my touch. "Okay," he says simply. "But we can still take it slow. We have time."

"Seventy-two hours," I remind him, a hint of tension in my voice.

"Hey," he says gently, turning his face to press a kiss to my palm. "Remember what I said? Let's not worry about the countdown. Just be here, now, with me."

His words ease something in my chest. "Here. Now. With you," I repeat, finding comfort in the simplicity.

"Exactly," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss me softly. "Everything else can wait until tomorrow."

As his lips meet mine, I allow myself to let go of the concerns, the calculations, the constant awareness of time passing. For now, there is only this moment, this space, this man.

And for now, that is enough.