Page 50 of Accidentally Abducted

For the first time since the blue light took him away, my bioluminescence begins to brighten, pulsing with a rhythm that feels right again.

I am going back to Earth.

I am going back to Jake.

And this time, I do not have to say goodbye.

Chapter Fifteen

Jake

I've been staring at the same job application for forty minutes, the words blurring together in a meaningless jumble. Something about "implementing evidence-based therapeutic interventions in a client-centered environment." Two beers in and it sounds like corporate bullshit designed to make glorified listening seem revolutionary.

The clock on my laptop says 1:47 AM. Another night of not sleeping, of staring at walls and screens and the ceiling, all while clutching a piece of alien technology that refuses to work.

Ten days. Ten days since I came back. Ten days of trying to reach Zeph through the communicator, of straining to feel something, anything, through our empathic bond. Ten days of absolutely nothing.

I take another swig of beer. Not enough to get drunk, just enough to dull the hollow ache in my chest that never seems to go away. Sleep deprivation is doing the rest, blurring the edges of reality into something almost dreamlike. If I close my eyes, I can almost feel the gentle current of the cleansing pools, almost smell that spicy-sweet scent that clung to Zeph's skin.

Almost, but not quite.

The communicator sits on the coffee table, silent and useless. I've tried everything, holding it different ways, whispering to it, shouting at it, sleeping with it under my pillow. Nothing works. Either it's broken, or Zeph isn't listening.

Or he's forgotten me already.

I close the laptop, giving up on the job application. What's the point? Even if I get an interview, I'll just be going through the motions. Nothing feels real anymore. Nothing feels important.

"Fuck this," I mutter, picking up the communicator again. "One more try, and then I'm done."

I don't know why I'm still trying. Hope, probably. That most persistent and annoying of human emotions.

I close my fingers around the smooth stone, focusing on the faint vibration that tells me it's still active. I close my eyes, trying to reach through the void, trying to find that connection that felt so vivid just days ago.

I'm still here. I'm still waiting. Please, just give me something. Anything.

Nothing. Not even the faintest echo.

"Fine," I say to the empty room, tossing the communicator back onto the coffee table. "Message received. Or not received. Whatever."

I lean back on the couch, exhaustion dragging at my limbs. Maybe tonight I'll finally sleep. Maybe exhaustion and beer will do what willpower couldn't. I let my eyes close, just for a moment.

I don't know how long I've been dozing when a familiar blue light begins to seep under my eyelids.

Great. Now I'm dreaming about the abduction. My subconscious isn't exactly subtle.

The light intensifies, and I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, not wanting to wake up. Dream-Zeph is better than no Zeph at all. But the light only grows brighter, pulsing in a pattern I recognize from that first night. Not a dream-light. A real light.

I force my eyes open, sitting up so fast my head spins.

The blue light is filling my living room, emanating from a central point that's beginning to take shape. A form coalescing out of pure energy, tall and broad-shouldered and achingly familiar.

Zeph.

For a moment, I can't move, can't breathe, can't do anything but stare as he materializes fully in my living room. He's wearing what looks like formal attire, deep blue with silver accents that make his skin look even more otherworldly. His golden eyes find mine immediately, and even across the room, I can see the emotion in them.

"Jake," he says, my name carrying a weight that breaks whatever paralysis was holding me in place.

I don't speak. I don't think. I just move, launching myself across the room and into him with enough force that he actually takes a step back. My hands find his face, his shoulders, his chest, making sure he's real, that he's actually here, before I crush my mouth against his in a kiss that's as much anger as it is relief.

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