Page 35 of Technically Abducted
Instead, I step back from the doorway.
"Would you like to come in?" I ask. "I could prepare something to drink while you explain."
Finn's smile is warmer than any I've observed from him previously. "Yeah, I'd like that."
As he crosses the threshold into my private quarters, I realize that nothing about this assessment is proceeding according to established parameters. The Council expects professional analysis, objective findings, systematic evaluation of human compatibility potential.
What they're going to receive is something far more complex, far more personal than any protocol anticipated.
And as I watch Finn examine my living space with obvious curiosity, I find myself significantly less concerned about protocol compliance than I should be.
"Your quarters are exactly what I expected," Finn says, running a hand along the pristine surface of my work station. "Very organized. Very... you."
"Nereidan design principles prioritize functional efficiency," I explain, moving to prepare the beverages.
"Right," Finn says, and there's amusement in his voice. "Functional efficiency."
I glance back at him, noting the way he's studying the space—not with judgment, but with the same careful attention he brought to understanding the ship's adaptive systems.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing," Finn says, settling onto the seating platform with obvious comfort. "It's just... after what happened in the pool, after that kiss, somehow 'functional efficiency' feels like it might not be the most important thing anymore."
His words send warmth through me. "No," I admit quietly. "I'm beginning to suspect it's not."
Chapter Eleven
Finn
Tev'ra's quarters are exactly what I expected and somehow completely surprising at the same time. Everything is pristine, organized, efficient—but there are small details that feel personal. A collection of what look like research tablets arranged just so on his desk. The way the lighting is adjusted to a warmer tone than the rest of the ship. A subtle scent that's uniquely him.
"This is nice," I say, settling onto the seating platform that's probably designed for optimal ergonomics but feels comfortable in a way that suggests he actually uses it. "Feels more like a home than the rest of the ship."
"Environmental controls respond to occupant preferences over time," Tev'ra explains, moving to what appears to be a beverage preparation area. "The systems adapt to promote optimal rest and relaxation."
"Or maybe," I suggest, watching the way his shoulders have relaxed since we left the pools, "you've made it feel like home without realizing it."
He pauses in his preparation, glancing back at me. "Perhaps."
The silence that follows isn't uncomfortable, but it's loaded with everything that happened in the water—the kiss, the empathic connection, the way we fit together like we were designed for each other. I can still feel echoes of it, phantom sensations that make my skin feel too sensitive.
"Tev'ra," I say quietly.
"Yes?"
"What happened in the pool... that empathic thing. Is it always that intense?"
He turns fully to face me, abandoning the beverage preparation. "I told you, I've never experienced anything like that before."
"So it's not normal for your species?"
"Empathic bonding exists between Nereidans, but it's... rare. Special. It requires specific compatibility factors that aren't well understood." He moves closer, settling onto the seating platform beside me. "Recent assessments have documented similar responses with other humans, which I had forgotten about since it has happened only three times in our history, though the mechanism remains unclear. Cross-species empathic bonding shouldn't be possible according to our understanding of neural compatibility."
"But it happened."
"Yes," he says softly. "It happened. With you, with the others... we're discovering our research had significant gaps."
I study his face, noting the way his bioluminescence is pulsing gently beneath his skin even now, responding to proximity, to the memory of our connection.
