Chapter 14
Verity
I couldn't believe I'd kissed him. I couldn't believe how good it had felt. And how much I wanted to do it again, and again, until my lips were swollen and I couldn't remember my own name.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. Nothing about this was supposed to happen like that.
One minute, I’d been trying to reason with myself, listing every sensible reason not to want him — alien, abductor, wrong species, wrong situation — and the next, his mouth was on mine, and my body had voted for complete mutiny.
I pressed my fingers to my lips. They still tingled. My pulse hadn’t slowed; it was thudding hard enough that I could feel it everywhere — in my ribs, my throat, the tips of my fingers. The sea breeze cooled my skin but couldn’t calm the heat that had taken root beneath it.
I’d kissed men before.
But never like that.
There’d been no hesitation, no polite test of compatibility, no trying to make it work. It had just… worked. Instantly. Like my body already knew the rhythm of his, like some deep, ancient part of me had been waiting for that precise moment to exist.
I wanted to blame it on the bond — that strange biological phenomenon he’d described, part chemistry, part instinct. Maybe it explained the attraction, the dizzying pull between us. Maybe it was his scent, or pheromones, or whatever mysterious evolutionary quirk made our DNA spark like flint.
But science didn’t explain the way his touch had made me feel.
I’d spent years studying patterns — migration routes, sonar communication, the subtle logic behind animal behaviour. None of it had prepared me for this. For him.
I turned toward the sea. The waves were calm again, stretching out in endless shades of silver-blue. He was somewhere behind me, probably just as dazed as I was. Maybe not — Finfolk were used to the idea of “fated mates.” Maybe this was ordinary for him. Another biological inevitability.
But for me? It felt anything but ordinary.
I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, to analyse, to think. The scientist in me demanded structure — cause, effect, explanation. The woman in me only wanted to feel the next kiss.
Maybe both were right.
“You’re thinking very loudly,” he said.
I smiled without opening my eyes. “Occupational hazard. Scientists overanalyse everything.”
He came to stand beside me, close but not touching. The restraint in that was almost unbearable. “Do you regret it?”
I turned to face him. The sunlight caught the faint shimmer of his greenskin, the subtle movement of it in the wind, like kelp swaying under a current. He looked impossibly beautiful — familiar and strange all at once.
“No,” I said honestly. “That’s the problem.”
Something flickered across his expression — relief, maybe, or hunger. “Good.”
I shook my head, half laughing, half on the edge of another disaster. “You can’t just— you can’t kiss me like that and expect me to think straight.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to think at all,” he said softly.
And there it was again — that quiet confidence, the heat beneath the calm. I wanted to be angry at him for it, but I couldn’t. He wasn’t playing a game. He was just being honest.
The bond pulsed between us, low and steady. I wondered if he felt it the same way I did — like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing that jumping would feel like flying, even if you might drown after.
“I need time,” I said finally. “To understand what this is.”
He nodded once, solemn. “You’ll have it. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
I believed him. That was the terrifying part.
When he turned back toward the resort, the sunlight caught him again — scales glinting, shoulders broad, strength and softness in equal measure. I watched him go, my heart a chaotic mess of logic and longing.
I had every reason to walk away.
And not a single desire to do it.
I somehow made it back to my bungalow before the emotions caught up with me.
Inside, I closed the door and leaned against it, pressing my fingers to my lips. They still tingled from his kiss.
What was I doing?
I walked to the window and stared out at the ocean. Somewhere out there was the Minerva. My colleagues. My research. The life I'd spent years building.
And I was ready to throw it away for an alien I'd known for less than a week.
Was I insane?
I pulled out the tablet I’d been given and scrolled through my emails. Dozens of messages. Questions about data. A reminder about the conference paper I was supposed to submit next month. An email from my university supervisor asking how the expedition was going.
My life. My real life.
I sat on the edge of the bed and made myself think it through.
The facts: I'd nearly died. Been rescued by an alien. Been kept on an island against my will—no, that wasn't fair. He'd protected me when I was injured. There was a difference.
But was there?
He'd made choices for me. Decided I couldn't handle the swim. Decided I needed to be kept separate from everyone else until... what? Until I fell for him?
And I had. That was the terrifying part.
One kiss and I was ready to upend my entire existence.
The bond hummed in my chest, a gentle pull telling me exactly where he was on the island. Two buildings away. Probably worrying about me. Probably waiting.
Was this love? Or just very sophisticated biochemistry?
I thought about my mother, who'd always said she knew my father was the one the moment she met him. "Just knew," she'd said, as if that explained everything.
I'd never believed in that. Love at first sight. Instant connections. Soulmates.
But I'd never met an alien before who talked about bonds and fated mates.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Same face. Same eyes. But something had changed. I looked... alive. More alive than I'd felt in years.
Was that the bond? Or was it him?
Did it matter?
The scientist in me screamed yes. Understanding the mechanism mattered. Knowing whether I was being influenced mattered. Having control over my own choices mattered.
But the woman who'd kissed him, who'd felt that surge of rightness, who right now wanted nothing more than to do it again... she didn't care about mechanisms.
She just wanted him.
I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my own heartbeat. Steady. Sure.
I could leave. Contact the Minerva. Say this was all too much, too fast, too alien. Go back to my research and my papers and my carefully planned career.
Or I could stay. Take the DNA test. See if the bond was real. Give this—give him—a chance.
The pull in my chest strengthened, as if the bond itself was voting.
But that wasn't fair. The bond didn't get to decide. I did.
So what did I want?
I closed my eyes and let myself really feel it. Not the bond. Not the biology. Just... what my heart wanted when I stripped away all the fear and logic and doubt.
I wanted to learn his language. Hear him sing the currents. Wake up to greenskin wrapped around me like a living blanket. Argue with him about scientific method. Kiss him until we both forgot our own names.
I wanted him.
Not because of the bond. Because of who he was. Who we could be together.
The realization settled over me like calm water.
I opened my eyes and looked at my phone one more time. The Minerva could wait. The conference could wait. Everything could wait.
This—him—couldn't.
I stood up, smoothed down my borrowed clothes, and headed for the door.
Time to stop running from what I wanted.
I found him walking along the beach, guided to him by the bond.
“Wait!”
He stopped immediately, turning to me, the sunlight catching the fine sheen of water still clinging to his greenskin. His eyes met mine, unreadable but patient, as if he’d been waiting for me to come running back all along.
I swallowed hard. “Have you eaten yet?”
His head tilted slightly. “No. I can't even remember when I last had some food. Why?”
“Because I haven’t either,” I said, surprised by how steady my voice sounded. “Well, nothing but a banana from the fruit basket in my room. And I thought… maybe we could fix that. Together.”
For a heartbeat, he just looked at me — silent, assessing, as though trying to decide if this was real. Then the corners of his mouth curved, and his entire face lit up. “You’re asking me to dinner.”
“Yes.” I folded my arms, mostly because I didn't know what to do with my hands. “It’s called a date. Humans do that sometimes when they’re trying to make sense of whatever this is. When they want to get to know each other further, on neutral ground, in a nice place.”
“I know what a date is,” he said, and there was a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I just didn’t think you’d want one with me.”
“I didn’t either,” I admitted. “And yet, here we are.”
That made him smile, and it was devastating. The kind of smile that felt like sunlight breaking through water.
“Then it would be my honour,” he said simply.
The ridiculous formality of it made me laugh — a small, unsteady sound that somehow grounded me. “Good. I saw a dining area near the main lodge when Elise showed me around. I’m guessing they serve more than fish?”
"They will make you whatever you want. By now the entire island will know that you almost drowned and then almost became shark food. You'll be the local celebrity and favourite source of gossip for a few sunpasses, before they move on to a new target. I recommend you milk it while you can."
I laughed. "I guess there's a lot of gossip on an island like this."
"You have no idea."
We fell into step together as we made our way up the beach, the silence between us comfortable this time. I was aware of him in that hyper-focused way that made everything else blur — his scent, the quiet rhythm of his breathing, the faint rustle of his greenskin as he moved.