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Excerpt from The Aquarean: Abducted and Altered Book 3"

Ch. 3 "Flipper and the Tuna Sandwich"

I pull up the ladder and lower the red diver's flag while I stare at the blue wonder I just left. Some of the colorful fish that live in the reef recognized me and approached without fear as I swam among them. Or I could be imagining it because I'm lonely. It's probably not a great idea to make friends in my situation, so I keep my interactions on a surface level with people at work and in town.

Every now and then when I go snorkeling, I get the sense I'm being watched. Today it's especially unnerving. There's not another boat in sight as I scan the horizon in all directions. No one else around but me and my paranoia.

As I stow my mask, snorkel and fins after a long swim, a soft thump vibrates beneath my feet. Another bump to the bottom of my boat is followed by a telltale splash and a familiar Loggerhead Sea Turtle pokes his big, brown head above water. He's become a regular fixture on my outings.

His enormous bulk glides through the water effortlessly as he follows in my wake. There's a distinctive notch in his front right arm, probably scarred by an unfortunate clash with a boat propeller in the past. Hence, his name — at least I think it's a boy.

"Hey, Flipper! Where have you been, big guy?" I maneuver my skiff to a sand bar I'm fond of and raise the small engine in the back, securing it to avoid getting sand in the rotors. The August Florida sun beats down on my shoulders now that I've stripped off my wet rash guard. I wrap my long, damp strawberry blonde hair in a low messy bun and cover up with a light cotton shirt and my straw hat as I step onto the soft, hot sand.

No matter how much sunscreen I use, my pale skin won't tan, it only burns. So, I've finally conceded prevention is the best medicine. Mom would be proud if she were still alive to see my pasty ass right now. Spreading my towel out, I plop down and take in the view. As usual, Flipper watches with one buggy black eye above the clear aquamarine shallows but he doesn't approach.

The lumbering turtle's distance closes in as I unwrap my tuna sandwich. "Convenient, you make an appearance just in time for lunch." I pluck off a chunk and toss it into the gentle waves. He snatches the snack up in his powerful beak, downing it in one easy gulp.

Suddenly, he moves with a speed I didn't think he was capable of, waddling onto the sand to lunge for what's left of my sandwich. He's never been so aggressive before, but I've also never shared my meal with him.

His intimidating pointed mouth chomps at my hand and I yelp, scrambling backwards in the soft, deep sand as I make a poor attempt to escape. The turtle is dogging me, and in my flailing clumsiness, I lack the mental clarity to just drop the damn sandwich.

A deep, commanding male voice breaks through my panic, speaking a fluid, musical language the likes of which I've never heard. As if in a trance, Flipper stops in his tracks and backs away, turning to slide into the water without a splash.

I rise and absently dust sand from my legs with my free hand as I scan the barren sandbar for my rescuer. With a golden shimmer, a man materializes and wades toward me.

One moment the space was empty and the next he's there, moving my way with dangerous grace. He wears a white tunic-like shirt and gray pants that hug his powerful legs. The water seems to wick right off the fabric.

"How—?" I whisper as he approaches. What remains of the sandwich Flipper attacked me over falls from my fingers and lands on the sand, forgotten at my bare feet.

He's not normal. I can tell that right off. His hair is long and silky, white as snow. His skin is blue, even more so than the shallow water he's stepped out of to cross the sand. A small breeze blows his hair to the side and one ear is exposed. Elongated, it looks like a delicate webbed fin extending from the side of his head.

Eyes with huge irises so pale azure as to be silver narrow accusingly as he speaks. "You shouldn't feed Maxu. He's fat enough."

"Maxu?" I shake my head, feeling like I've been in a trance. The sizeable man is too close for comfort and happens to be the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. I crane my neck to meet his gaze because he's easily a head and shoulders taller than my five foot five inches. My eyes trail over a thick, muscled chest and broad shoulders along the way. His flowing tunic can't hide how big and strong he is.

"The shelled sea reptile," He cocks his head and replies as if I'm simple minded. His accent is foreign, but I can't place it. I should be running to my boat. An electric current skates up my spine and adrenaline surges in my veins because he is not human. He hasn't been hostile yet, but anything could happen to me alone out here so far from shore.

"The sea turtle," I utter. "Flipper is what I call him."

"And what shall I call you?" His gray-blue eyes rove over me, and his deep, melodic voice sends goosebumps racing down my arms.

"My name is Finley Hooper." I doubt this alien that literally appeared out of the ocean needs to know my full name. What else could he be but an extraterrestrial invader? Belatedly, I wish I'd never spoken to him and instead ran away when he appeared. Is it too late to run?

"Pleased to make your acquaintance… Finley Hooper." The deep timbre of his voice makes my insides quiver in the best way. I mean, no! I shouldn't let a stranger get this close. Especially not one as strange as him. He gently clasps my wrist in his much larger hand and my eyes widen as he pulls me closer and bows low, silky hair tickling my skin.

After the lightest brush of his lips to my fingertips he resumes his full height and releases my hand. "I am Ketan Vantis. You may simply call me Ketan." His smile, meant to be pleasant, has the opposite effect when I notice his teeth are all sharp, sort of like an orca.

As if that weren't enough, something about his presence has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end and my heart pounding. He hasn't done anything threatening, but I am off kilter in his presence just the same. I mean, who wouldn't be?

"I'd better head back to shore. My boss is expecting me at work today."

"Work." He looks me up and down, those striking eyes pinning me in place. "If you were mine, I would ensure you never toiled a day in your life and every luxury was yours for the taking."

My hands go numb despite the oppressive heat. It was no luxury to be treated in such a way by a man. I make fists and open them repeatedly to regain circulation in my fingers while reminding myself to breathe. I was a prisoner in Geno's home. Kept in golden chains to limit my exposure to the outside world.

In hindsight, he didn't want me talking to anyone about his lifestyle and how I was treated. "You don't know a thing about me. And you should work on your pickup lines." I head for my boat while uneasiness gnaws at my belly. Will he let me leave?

"May I get to know you, Finley Hooper? I will become better at picking up the lines," He calls after me.

I chuckle despite my anxiety as the warm saltwater laps at my ankles. Pausing, I turn back and the sight of him takes my breath away. Tall, broad, and unfortunately still very blue — Ketan is totally alien. "And how do you propose we accomplish that? You don't look like you're from around here."

Have I fallen and hit my head or suffered heat stroke and I'm hallucinating? I mentally check myself. I'm not lightheaded or weak.

"I reside on this planet under the aegis of the Council of the Nine Galaxies, so I am in fact, from around here." He takes a few steps toward me and stops when I hold out my hands. His expression falls when he sees me trying to ward him off. "I will return to this place before the next sunset, in hopes you will join me."

"Maybe." Why did I say that? Why would I entertain the idea of seeing him again? If he's even real. Everything about this encounter is nuts. I push off and lower my motor.

Fumbling twice before the engine starts, I speed away, resisting the urge to look back. My cheap straw hat flies off in the wind created by the sudden acceleration, but I'll just buy another from the hotel gift shop when I get paid next. Because no way am I turning around to chase it.

Against my better judgment, I glance over my shoulder just in time for the clothing Ketan wore to vanish as he gracefully wades into the turquoise sea. He looks me right in the eyes as he leaps into the air. With a flash of golden light like when he appeared, his muscular legs fuse into a long, silver-blue fish tail. I nearly topple over the side of my boat before I regain my balance.

"Holy fuck!" I can't stop the curse that falls from my lips when he disappears beneath the water as if he were part of it all along. Everything about him is big. And I do mean everything, because I saw it all.

"What are you?" One question I wish I'd asked sooner finally falls from my lips as I blink at the softly rippling ocean. Like it will answer you, Finley.

Shaking off my stupor, I won't waste the opportunity to escape. I drive my skiff like a tsunami is on my heels in the direction of land, of something more sane.

Thank you for reading!

Love, Arianna

Welcome to something out of this world.

It is an honor to write for you, dear reader.

Why did I choose the Science Fiction Romance genre? I'm a long time lover of all things weird. A science geek and space nerd from way back, I began creating intergalactic love stories in my head long before I ever wrote them down.

I've probably watched every episode of "Ancient Aliens" on the History Channel, which has been running since 2010. Some of it is repetitive and dry, but other episodes really get you thinking, like "Aliens and Stargates" Season 7, episode 1. I've linked the episode below. My favorite human (AKA hubby) calls the series my "nerd show," but I'll wear it like a badge of honor.

My stories delve into themes of alien abduction and experimentation, interstellar war, and love that comes in many different forms. It's intriguing to not only portray the extraterrestrials, but also the aliens among us. Perhaps they've been here before and continue to visit us. In my storytelling, I explore the ultimate question:  What if?