Page 22 of Accidentally Abducted

Jake snorts. "I bet. For what it's worth, you would've hated spending three days with Derek. He would've spent the whole time complaining about the lack of protein powder and documenting his 'alien abduction fitness journey' for his followers." His tone is light, but there's something almost kind beneath the sarcasm. "At least I only complain about the food synthesizer and your terrible research methods."

The unexpected defense catches me off-guard, sending a wave of warmth through me that momentarily brightens my bioluminescence. "You have been... surprisingly adaptable."

"That's me. Adaptability Man. My superpower is rolling with weird alien shit." Jake is quiet for a moment, then shifts over in the bed. "Want to stay? Plenty of room, and you look like you could use some actual sleep instead of whatever alien existential crisis you're having over there."

The offer catches me completely unprepared. We have been intimate, yes, but sleeping together, actually sleeping, feels like crossing a different kind of threshold. One that has nothing to do with physical compatibility and everything to do with trust and emotional intimacy.

"I do not wish to intrude—"

"Zeph." Jake's voice is patient but firm. "You're not intruding. I'm asking."

I look at him, this human who somehow sees through my careful composure to whatever emotional turmoil I'm trying to hide, and realize that maintaining professional distance is already impossible. The damage, as humans might say, is done.

"Thank you," I say quietly, moving toward the bed.

Jake doesn't say anything as I settle beside him, just shifts to make room and then curls against my side with anaturalness that constricts my throat with unexpected emotion. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing should be comforting, but instead it makes the weight of tomorrow's deadline feel heavier.

In less than twenty-four hours, I will have to make my recommendation to the Council. And lying here with Jake's sleeping form pressed against me, I realize I have no idea how I'm going to choose between my duty to my people and the human who has somehow become essential to my happiness.

Tomorrow we will have less than a day remaining. And I still have no idea how I am going to let him go.

Chapter Nine

Jake

I wake up alone, the empty space beside me still holding a faint warmth that suggests Zeph hasn't been gone long. For a moment, I stare at the ceiling, which has shifted to a soft morning blue, and try not to think about how quickly I've gotten used to alien technology that responds to my moods.

Or how quickly I've gotten used to Zeph.

I stretch, feeling surprisingly well-rested despite how late we stayed up talking. After he returned from whatever "administrative tasks" kept him away, something had shifted between us. The fact that he chose to stay, curled around me like he couldn't bear to let go even after he'd fallen asleep, that feels more significant than anything else we've done so far.

The smell of something cooking draws me out of my thoughts. I pull myself out of bed, realizing I'd gone to sleep completely naked. Looking around, I grab the sheet and wrap it around my waist before padding toward the kitchen area.

"Zeph?" I call out, following the surprisingly appetizing aroma.

When I reach the kitchen, I find not Zeph but the food synthesizer humming quietly, a plate of something that looks suspiciously like pancakes sitting on the counter beside it. There's a glowing interface floating above the device with a message that reads: "Scheduled preparation complete. Recipe: 'Human Breakfast - Pancakes (Revised).'"

"Huh," I say to the empty room, poking at the pancakes with a fork. They look... edible? Which is a significant improvement over yesterday's gray construction material.

I'm about to take a bite when I hear the whoosh of a door opening, and turn to see Zeph entering from what I'm pretty sure is the direction of the cleansing pools. His hair is damp, hisskin has that extra glow it gets after water immersion, and he's wearing a loose robe that clings to his still-wet skin in ways that make my mouth go dry.

"Good morning," he says, and there's a formality to his tone that wasn't there yesterday. "I see the automated preparation was successful."

"You programmed the synthesizer to make me breakfast?" I ask, oddly touched by the gesture despite the formal greeting.

"After our previous attempt, I spent some time refining the recipe parameters while you were sleeping. The synthesizer has been calibrated to produce what should be an acceptable approximation of pancakes." He pauses, then adds with a touch of uncertainty, "Are they... adequate?"

I take a bite, fully prepared to fake enthusiasm, but am surprised to find they're actually pretty good. "They're great," I tell him honestly. "Not as good as the ones we made together, but definitely not construction material this time."

That gets me a small smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I am pleased they meet with your approval."

There's something off about his manner this morning, a careful distance that wasn't there yesterday. I wonder if it has something to do with whatever kept him up last night, those "administrative tasks" that had him looking so tense when he came back to the bedroom.

"You okay?" I ask, studying his face. "You seem... I don't know, formal. Like you're hosting a diplomatic dinner instead of having breakfast with the guy you spent half the night getting very informal with."

Zeph's skin flushes that lovely blue, and the glow beneath it brightens momentarily. "I apologize. I have been... preoccupied."

"With work stuff?" I guess, remembering the tension in his body when he crawled into bed beside me. "Those administrative tasks you mentioned?"

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