Page 36 of Reluctantly Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #3)

Owen

Eventually, we make our way out of the hydration pool, our skin wrinkled from the long soak.

I grab a drying cloth and run it over my body, watching as Ry does the same, his movements precise and efficient even in this simple task.

The bioluminescence beneath his skin has settled into a gentle, steady glow that I'm beginning to recognize as contentment.

"Do you want to get dressed?" I ask, realizing I don't particularly care about clothing at the moment. The ship's environmental controls keep the temperature perfect, and there's something freeing about the casual intimacy of nudity after last night.

Ry hesitates, his hand hovering over his discarded pants. "Is clothing necessary?"

"Not for me," I reply with a smile. "But whatever you're comfortable with."

He considers this for a moment, then picks up the pants. "I'm comfortable like this with you," he says with a slight smile, "but I'd prefer to wear something in the common areas."

I nod, watching as he pulls on the pants.

They sit low on his hips, revealing the subtle differences in his anatomy—the slight indentation along his sternum, the faintly raised patterns along his ribs that glow more intensely than the surrounding skin.

Without a shirt, he looks less like the formal researcher I first met and more like someone real, someone vulnerable.

"Common areas it is," I say, retrieving my own pants from where I'd left them by the pool. "I'm starving. Breakfast?"

"Yes," Ry agrees with a smile. "What did you have in mind?"

"Something special," I say, taking his hand as we leave the hydration chamber. "And I'm making it myself, not just having the synthesizer do all the work."

"Ah, another of your 'cooking is better than efficiency' demonstrations," he says, but his eyes are bright with anticipation. "I admit I've come to appreciate your approach."

"You're learning," I reply with a grin, leading him toward the nutrition center. "Just wait until you see what I have planned."

The nutrition center is familiar territory by now. I head straight to the synthesizer console and start inputting commands for the ingredients I need.

"What are you making?" Ry asks, leaning against the counter beside me.

"Waffles," I say, continuing to input commands for the ingredients. "I can't believe I haven't made these for you yet."

"Another Earth breakfast specialty?" he asks with genuine interest.

"They're like pancakes but with pockets for holding all the good stuff," I explain, watching as the synthesizer produces the components I need. "Trust me, you'll love them."

I gather the synthesized ingredients—flour, eggs, milk, and fruits similar to Earth berries but with more vibrant colors—and begin mixing the batter with practiced ease.

Ry moves to the second synthesizer unit without being asked, already programming it to make hot chocolate for both of us.

I smile at how he remembers exactly how I like it—slightly darker and less sweet than his own.

It's these small gestures that make my chest warm in a way that has nothing to do with the heated kitchen.

"The variations in texture create an interesting sensory experience," Ry observes, his eyes bright with interest as he watches the cooking process.

"Exactly," I agree, accepting the mug of hot chocolate he hands me. "And then you add toppings for even more contrast—sweet, tart, creamy."

When the waffles are done, golden-brown and perfectly crisp, I plate them with a flourish.

I add the synthesized fruits—similar to strawberries and blueberries but with a more vibrant color—then whipped cream I programmed the synthesizer to create, and finally a drizzle of chocolate syrup that Ry helps me produce.

"This seems... excessive," Ry comments, looking at the towering creation.

"That's kind of the point," I tell him with a grin. "Sometimes excess is exactly what you need."

We take our plates to the small dining area, sitting close enough that our shoulders touch. Ry examines his waffle with the same focused attention he gives to scientific specimens, carefully cutting a small piece that includes all the components.

The moment the food touches his tongue, his eyes widen, and a wave of bioluminescence pulses beneath his skin so brightly it's almost white at the center.

"Good?" I ask, already knowing the answer from his reaction.

"These flavors together are... remarkable," he says once he's swallowed. "The warm waffle with the cool cream, the sweetness of the chocolate against the tartness of the fruit..." He takes another bite, abandoning his analysis in favor of simply enjoying the experience.

I dig into my own breakfast, but I find I'm getting almost as much pleasure from watching Ry eat as from the food itself. He approaches each bite with such thoughtful appreciation, his bioluminescence pulsing with each new flavor combination he discovers.

At one point, a small dot of whipped cream catches at the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, I lean in and kiss it away, tasting the sweetness on his lips. He responds immediately, turning to meet me properly, his mouth warm and sweet against mine.

What begins as a simple kiss quickly deepens, his hand coming up to cup my face as mine finds his waist. I can taste chocolate and fruit and something uniquely Ry beneath it all. When we finally break apart, his bioluminescence is pulsing rapidly, matching the quickened pace of my own heartbeat.

"I find waffles significantly more appealing than I anticipated," he says, his voice slightly rougher than usual.

I laugh, pressing another quick kiss to his lips. "Wait until you try French toast."

We return to our breakfast, exchanging occasional kisses between bites, the meal stretching out far longer than necessary. I've never seen Ry so relaxed, so present in the moment without rushing to the next task or analyzing the current one to death.

We're just finishing up when a sharp tone sounds from the communication panel on the wall. Ry freezes mid-bite, a look of alarm crossing his features. His bioluminescence, which had been glowing steadily with contentment, suddenly flickers with agitation.

"It's the Council," he says, setting down his fork. "That's Kav'eth's priority channel."

I watch as Ry's entire demeanor shifts, tension replacing the relaxed openness of moments before. He glances down at his bare chest, then up at the communication panel, genuine distress flashing across his face.

And that's when I feel it—a flutter of anxiety in my chest that doesn't feel like my own. A rising panic, a concern about propriety and protocol that I've never cared about in my life.

"I need to put on a shirt," Ry says, already starting to rise. "For a Council call, I should—"

"Ry," I interrupt, placing my hand over his. "I can feel it."

He stops, looking at me in confusion. "Feel what?"

"Your panic," I say, squeezing his hand. "Your worry about answering the call half-dressed. I can feel it... it's like it's in my chest, but it's not mine. We're actually bonding this time."

His eyes widen as he processes my words. "It's actually happening," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "The bond is forming? After what happened last time, I hardly dared hope—"

"Well, it's happening," I cut in. "Unless I suddenly developed a fear of video calls with your brother that I didn't have before."

Ry stares at me, his scientific mind visibly racing to catch up with what I'm telling him. "You can genuinely sense my emotional state?"

"Yes," I confirm. "And it's telling me you're freaking out about taking a call without a shirt on."

The communication tone sounds again, more insistent this time. Ry glances anxiously at the panel.

"Answer it," I tell him, standing and moving behind his chair. I place my hands on his bare shoulders, feeling the tension in the muscles there. "It's just Kav'eth checking in, right? So what if we're not dressed formally? We're on your ship, in private."

"But protocol dictates—"

"Forget protocol," I say, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. "Answer the call, Ry."

"But—"

"I can feel how scared you are," I tell him softly. "That's not my fear. That's the bond."

His head snaps up, golden eyes huge with realization. "The bond," he whispers, the words barely audible.

As the call tone sounds a third time, I concentrate on pushing my own feelings toward him—my calm confidence, my happiness, my complete lack of concern about what Kav'eth might think of our appearance. I have no idea if it will work, if the bond goes both ways this early, but I try anyway.

Something in Ry's expression shifts, his breathing slowing slightly as some of his tension eases. "You're helping me feel calmer," he says, sounding both fascinated and touched.

"Is it working?" I ask.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a small, wondering smile. "Yes."

With newfound determination, Ry reaches over and activates the communication panel.

A holographic display materializes above the table, showing Kav'eth in his formal Council attire.

His expression is neutral until he registers our appearance—both shirtless, sitting close together, breakfast spread out before us.

"Researcher Ry'eth," he begins formally, then stops, his eyes widening slightly. "I... appear to have contacted you at an inconvenient time."

"Not at all, Councilor," Ry replies, his voice steadier than I expected given the anxiety I can still feel flickering at the edges of our connection. "We were just completing the morning meal."

Kav'eth's gaze shifts between us, noting our state of undress, the remains of breakfast, and—most tellingly—my hands still resting on Ry's shoulders. Something that might almost be a smile touches his lips.

"I see," he says. "I was contacting you for a progress report on the assessment."

"The assessment is proceeding... productively," Ry says, his formal tone at odds with the way he leans back slightly into my touch.