Page 49 of Reluctantly Abducted
"As I told Zeph'hai, I had reports to complete," I repeat, already regretting my decision to come here. The domesticity of the scene, my two brothers with their human partners, so obviously comfortable together, creates a strange hollowness in my chest.
"You should have told us you were back safely," Kav'eth admonishes, though without the sharp edge his reprimands usually carry.
"I'm telling you now," I say, remaining near the doorway.
"How was your assessment?" Derek asks, his directness typical of what I've observed in humans. "Did you find it as educational as your brothers did?"
I feel my skin betray me before I can control it, a flash of bioluminescence that I quickly suppress. "The assessment was completed according to protocol. My report will be delivered to the Council tomorrow."
"That's not what he asked," Jake says, studying me with an intensity I find uncomfortable. "He asked how it was."
"It was..." I search for a word that conveys nothing while satisfying their curiosity. "Informative."
"Sit," Zeph encourages, gesturing to an empty cushion. "You look exhausted."
He's not wrong. I haven't entered a proper hydration cycle since returning, and the signs are becoming visible, theslight dullness to my normally vibrant skin, the faint dryness at the edges of my facial ridges, the darkening around my eyes. I've ignored the early warning signals my body has been sending, too consumed by the effort of maintaining my composure, of completing my report, of not thinking about Owen.
I don't want to sit. I don't want to be here, surrounded by their happiness, their bonded completeness, while the absence of Owen creates a vacuum inside me that seems to grow with each passing moment. But refusing would only prompt more questions, so I lower myself onto the cushion, keeping my posture rigid despite the fatigue making my limbs feel heavy.
"Can I get you something to drink?" Jake asks. "You look like you could use it."
I open my mouth to request something familiar, but what comes out instead is, "Hot chocolate. With cinnamon. And whipped cream."
The words hang in the air, as surprising to me as they clearly are to everyone else in the room. Jake's eyebrows shoot up.
"Hot chocolate? With cinnamon and whipped cream?" he repeats, exchanging a look with Zeph.
"I mean—" I begin to correct myself, but Jake is already nodding.
"Coming right up," he says, moving toward their food preparation area. "Didn't know you'd developed a taste for Earth drinks."
I didn't either. The words had come out without conscious thought, surprising me as much as everyone else. I stare down at my hands, noticing for the first time how the usually vibrant blue of my skin has dulled to a muted shade that indicates dehydration.
"Were you compatible?" Jake asks bluntly from the food area, his back to me as he prepares the drink.
"No," I say, the word like ash in my mouth. "We were not."
"No empathic bond," I add when Jake continues to look at me expectantly, turning to hand the steaming mug to Zeph, who brings it to me. "We completed the assessment as scheduled, and he was returned to Earth precisely according to protocol."
I see my brothers exchange a glance. They don't believe me, or at least they don't believe that's the full story.
I accept the mug from Zeph, my hands betraying me with a slight tremor. The rich, sweet aroma hits me, and for a moment I'm back in the dim nutrition center, Owen's eyes bright with amusement as he watched me taste the unfamiliar beverage for the first time. The memory is so vivid that I nearly spill the hot liquid.
"Careful," Zeph murmurs, steadying my hands with his own. His eyes widen slightly as he touches me. "Ry'eth, your temperature regulation is off. When did you last complete a full hydration cycle?"
"I'm fine," I say, pulling my hands away.
"You're not," he insists, his scientific training coming to the fore. "Your skin moisture levels are dangerously low, and your thermal regulation is compromised. I can feel it."
"I've been busy," I say, taking a deliberate sip of the hot chocolate to forestall further discussion. The sweetness, warmth, and faint spice of the cinnamon overwhelm my senses. Owen's drink. I struggle to keep my expression neutral as my skin betrays me with a pulse of blue-green light.
"That's too bad," Derek says, in that casual Earth way that attempts to minimize discomfort. "He seemed interesting from what Kav'eth told me. A combat medic, right?"
"Yes."
"With field experience," Kav'eth adds, watching me closely. "An impressive skill set that would be valuable to our medical knowledge base."
I close my eyes briefly as the room tilts. The lack of proper hydration affects me more than I've admitted, and the emotional strain only compounds it. When I open my eyes, all four of them watch me with obvious concern.
