Page 66 of Reluctantly Abducted
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, watching the stars. I find my thoughts drifting not to scientific classifications but to how right this feels—Owen's warmth against my back, his arms around me, the steady rhythm of his breathing.
"So," he says eventually, his voice a pleasant rumble against my back, "what have you been up to since I left? Besides missing me terribly, of course."
I smile at his teasing tone. "I presented my findings to the Council," I reply. "They were quite impressed with the data on human adaptability."
"Meaning they were impressed with me," Owen says, a hint of playfulness in his voice.
"Very impressed," I confirm, turning slightly to see his face. "Particularly with your medical knowledge. The Council sees significant potential benefits for our society."
"And they approved this second assessment based on that presentation?" His hand traces lazy patterns on my arm that match the flow of light beneath my skin.
"Yes, though it's technically a final assessment," I explain, covering his hand with mine. "Seventy-two hours to determine if we can form a bond."
"And if we do?" Owen asks, his voice soft but intent. "What happens then?"
"You would be invited to stay," I say, turning more fully to face him. "To be with me. Permanently."
His eyes search mine. "And if we don't bond?"
"Then we part ways," I admit, the words painful to speak. "The Council was clear that this is our only chance."
Owen is quiet for a moment, his fingers laced with mine. "That's a lot riding on seventy-two hours," he finally says.
"Yes," I agree, unable to offer any scientific reassurance. "But I'm glad to have this chance, whatever the outcome."
"Me too," he says simply.
"What does it feel like?" he asks after a moment. "This bond? How will we know if it's happening?"
I consider his question carefully. "My brothers describe it differently. Kav'eth talks about neural resonance, while Zeph'hai describes it more emotionally—a sense of recognition, of finding something essential in another person."
"And what do you think it would feel like for us?"
The question catches me off guard. I haven't allowed myself to imagine this specifically. "I'm not sure," I admit. "But I think... I think I would feel complete in a way I never have before."
Owen's expression softens at my words. "Are you scared?" he asks, surprising me with his perception.
My first instinct is to deny it, to retreat behind scientific objectivity. Instead, I give him the truth. "Yes," I admit quietly. "I'm terrified."
"Of what? That we won't bond?"
"That," I acknowledge, "and..." I meet his eyes directly. "And that we will. That everything will change."
Understanding dawns in his expression. "Change can be scary," he says. "Even good change."
"Yes."
He pulls me closer, his forehead resting against mine. "Whatever happens," he says, "these seventy-two hours are ours. Let's not worry about the outcome yet."
His practical approach resonates with me. "Living in the present moment," I say with a small smile. "I like that."
Owen laughs softly. "That might be the most non-scientific thing I've ever heard you say," he teases, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw.
"I'm discovering there's value in more than just scientific approaches," I reply, leaning slightly into his touch. "Especially when it comes to you."
"Speaking of maximizing experiences," Owen says, his voice dropping lower, "I think we've had enough stargazing for now, don't you?"
My skin brightens immediately in response, but rather than suggesting we move to the sleeping chamber, I find myself curious about the time we've been apart. "Actually," I say, shifting slightly to look at him better while still remaining in his arms, "I'd like to know what you've been doing since you returned to Earth."
