Page 32 of Secretly Abducted
He's quiet for a moment, still working to keep his head above water. The effort is clearly exhausting him, but he doesn't move toward the platform for support. "I was upset. When you said goodbye was for the best. But then I realized—you panicked, didn't you? When I suggested... when I brought up sex."
I want to deny it, but his directness strips away my usual deflections. His eyes are too knowing, too patient. "Yes. It was far too fast. I was... scared."
"Why scared?"
A piece of debris bumps against my shoulder, and I push it away absently. "Because we met yesterday. One day. Nereidans don't progress to physical intimacy that quickly."
"What's the usual timeline?"
"Months of careful evaluation. Sometimes years."
Alex's eyes widen. "Years? Before any physical contact?"
"Before intimacy, yes."
"Jesus." He laughs, though not unkindly. "What's the shortest time you've heard of between meeting someone and having sex?"
I consider this. "I don't know. What's yours?"
"Honestly?" He grins. "A few hours, maybe less."
I choke on seawater, sputtering. "Hours?"
"There was a party, we both knew what we wanted." He's still grinning, but his voice softens. "But Vel'aan, I'm not asking you to have sex with me after a few hours. Hell, technically we met a decade ago, even if you don't remember it the same way I do."
The joke catches me off guard, and I find myself almost smiling. "That's not the same thing."
"I know." His breathing is becoming more labored from treading water. "I'm sorry I scared you. I moved too fast."
The simple apology, delivered while he struggles against exhaustion, hits harder than any elaborate explanation. I study his face, seeing sincerity there, and vulnerability. The practical part of my mind notes that he's tiring quickly, that humans aren't built for extended water work.
I float there, processing this while watching him struggle. "Section D needs untangling," I finally say. "But you'll need to surface frequently. You can't work underwater the way I can."
Relief floods his features like sunrise. "I know. I'll do what I can from near the surface."
"Cut only the dead growth—it's brown, brittle. Leave anything with green, even if it's damaged."
"Okay." He attempts a smile, though he's clearly fighting fatigue. "Thank you."
I gesture toward a small work platform anchored among the zhik'ra. "Rest first. You can't help if you're exhausted."
We swim to the platform together, me adjusting my pace to match his labored strokes. By the time we reach it, he's breathing hard, moving with the deliberate care of someone pushing their limits.
He hauls himself onto the platform with visible effort, water streaming from his body. His chest heaves as he catches his breath, skin flushed from exertion and sun.
"How do you swim for hours?" he asks between breaths.
"Gills. Different lung capacity. Muscle structure adapted for aquatic work." I remain in the water, floating beside the platform, watching him recover. "You don't have to do this."
"I want to help."
"Why?"
He looks at me, and something shifts in his expression—vulnerability mixing with determination. "Because this morning you told me goodbye was for the best, and I realized I don't want goodbye. Not yet. Maybe not ever."
The words send bioluminescence racing across my skin in patterns I can't control. "Alex—"
"I know I moved too fast. I know I scared you. But I also know what I felt yesterday, and I don't think it was one-sided." He slides back into the water, moving carefully, testing his recovered strength. "So I'm here. Offering to help with something that matters to you. No expectations, no pressure. Just... let me be useful."
