Page 31 of Reluctantly Abducted
"Ah," he says, understanding dawning. "Your sexual orientation caused familial discord?"
I laugh, genuinely amused by his clinical phrasing. "That's one way of putting it. But yeah, they weren't thrilled. They're not openly hostile about it, just... uncomfortable. We do the obligatory holiday calls, but that's about it."
"I'm sorry," he says, and something in his tone suggests he actually means it.
"It's fine," I say automatically. "Like I said, plenty of people have it worse. At least they didn't kick me out or anything."
Ry'eth studies me with those golden eyes that seem to see more than I'm comfortable sharing. I decide to turn the question back to him.
"What about you?" I ask. "Do you want kids someday? Little blue Ry'eths running around, lecturing everyone about proper environmental protocols?"
A hint of a smile touches his lips at the image. "No. My work requires extensive travel to remote research sites, often in hostile conditions. It is not conducive to partnership, much less offspring."
"I get that," I nod, recognizing the parallel to my own life. "Same with the military, hard to maintain relationships when you're deployed for months at a time. Part of why my marriage fell apart."
"That was not your failing," Ry'eth says with unexpected firmness. "Your former mate's betrayal during your deployment was dishonorable. The fault was theirs, not yours."
I'm momentarily caught off guard by his vehemence. It's touching that he remembers and seems genuinely offended on my behalf.
"Thanks," I say, offering him a small smile. "Not many people see it that way."
"Then 'many people' are incorrect," he states simply, as if it's an indisputable scientific fact.
"Still," I admit, voicing thoughts I rarely share, "sometimes I think about it. Having a family, I mean. Someone to come home to. Maybe someday, when I figure out what I'm doing with my life post-military."
Ry'eth's expression softens slightly. "Perhaps you will find that," he says, surprising me with the sentiment.
"Maybe," I agree, finishing my last pancake. "These turned out pretty good, huh?"
"They were excellent," he acknowledges. "As was the beverage pairing."
"We make a good team," I say with a smile, and notice a subtle flicker of light beneath his skin in response.
He begins gathering the dishes, and I join him, the two of us working in comfortable silence to clear the table and return the kitchen to its original state. Our movements fall into an easy rhythm, as if we've done this together many times before.
"Thank you," he says as the last item is put away. "For sharing this aspect of your culture."
"Thanks for the fancy drink," I reply. "What did you call it? Kell-something?"
"Kel'linar," he corrects, pronouncing it with a melodic inflection my human tongue probably couldn't replicate. "It's traditionally served during celebrations."
A warm, reckless feeling rises in me, and I go with it. "Well, this was definitely something worth celebrating," I say, meeting his eyes. "Our first date."
"This was not a 'date,'" he protests immediately, bioluminescence flaring. "It was a cultural exchange exercise as part of the assessment protocol."
"Right," I say, unable to suppress my smile. "Cultural exchange. With pancakes and fancy drinks and getting to know each other better."
"Precisely," he says, ignoring the knowing look I give him.
"And the kissing earlier," I add, pushing a little further. "Was that part of the assessment protocol too?"
His skin practically glows at the direct reference to our moment in the pool. "That was, I was, it was an aberration."
"An aberration I wouldn't mind repeating," I say softly, taking a step closer to him.
He doesn't retreat, which I take as a good sign. I raise my hand to rest gently against his cheek, feeling the subtle warmth of his skin.
"You're glowing again," I murmur, captivated by the patterns of light beneath his skin. "It's beautiful."
