Page 38 of Accidentally Abducted

"As do I," he murmurs, his gaze moving over my features with such intensity I can almost feel it as a physical touch.

Too soon, the ship announces that the transportation cycle will activate in thirty minutes.

Zeph pulls back reluctantly, his hands lingering on my arms. "You should prepare. The process can be... disorienting."

"Right. Wouldn't want to arrive back on Earth inside-out or something." I attempt a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. "That would be a hell of a conversation starter at parties."

Zeph doesn't laugh. Instead, he turns abruptly and moves to a panel on the wall, pressing his hand against it. A hidden compartment slides open, revealing a small device that looks something like a metallic river stone, smooth and flat with faint blue markings.

"This is against every protocol we have," he says, his voice tight. "I could lose my position for this."

"What is it?" I ask as he presses the device into my palm.

"A neural communicator." Zeph closes my fingers around it. "For emergencies only. It can transmit a single signal across interstellar distances."

I stare at him, not quite believing what I'm hearing. "You're giving me a way to call you?"

"It is extremely limited," he cautions. "It cannot transmit actual messages, only a simple distress signal. And it is meant solely for true emergencies, not... casual communication."

The unspoken message is clear, he's breaking rules for me, risking his career to make sure I'm not completely cut off. "How would I know if you received it? Or if you respond?"

"You would feel it," Zeph says, tapping my chest lightly. "Through our bond."

"I thought the bond would fade once we're separated." The thought has been haunting me, losing not just his physical presence but that deeper connection we've formed.

"It will diminish with distance," he acknowledges. "But not disappear entirely. Not if what we have experienced is... as significant as I believe it to be."

The ship announces twenty minutes remaining, and my heart rate kicks up a notch.

"Thank you," I say, closing my hand around the communicator. "Though I have to say, your definition of 'emergency' better be pretty broad."

That gets me a ghost of a smile. "I trust your judgment."

"That might be the first mistake you've made since we met," I joke, but it falls flat.

"You should position yourself in the center of the room," Zeph says, guiding me to the spot where I first arrived. "The transport coordinates are locked to your original location on Earth."

I stand where he indicates, suddenly feeling very small and very human. "So this is it, huh?"

"Yes." Zeph's professional mask is slipping again, pain showing through the cracks. "Jake, I—"

"No," I interrupt. "Don't say it. Not if this is goodbye."

He nods, understanding without me having to explain. Some words shouldn't be said unless there's hope of a future to back them up.

Ten minutes.

"I'm going to miss you," I say instead, because that much is safe to admit. "More than I thought possible after three days."

"And I you," Zeph replies, his voice rough with emotion. "More than I thought possible in a lifetime."

Five minutes.

The room begins to fill with the same blue light that brought me here, and I feel a familiar tingling sensation starting in my extremities.

"Zeph—" I start, suddenly desperate to say everything I've been holding back.

But it's too late. The blue light intensifies, and the last thing I see is Zeph's face, golden eyes wide and filled with an emotion that mirrors the one tearing my own chest apart.

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