I cannot allow him to reach it. The truce between our clans is fragile at best. The tension between Kol (our leader) and Lucek (theirs) has been rising high since the water scarcity sols ago. A strange male crossing from our lands into theirs will be seen as either an attack or collusion—neither scenario ends well for my clan.

Each step brings him closer to the boundary, and my skin prickles.

I cannot let this happen.

I won’t.

Surging forward, my body is a blur of motion against the darkening landscape. The male doesn’t hear me approach—how could he when I move with the silence of wind over dust? At the last possible moment, he begins to turn, some instinct perhaps warning him of danger.

Too late.

I tackle him, angling my body sideways to take him off course, even as I’m careful to control my strength against his smaller frame. I expect an immediate onslaught against my mindspace, but there is nothing. What occurs is a shrill screech that comes from the male’s throat. I’d cover my ear holes if I didn’t have to grab his limbs as they suddenly kick out in every direction, trying but failing to land a blow on me.

We tumble across the dust, my momentum carrying us several lengths before coming to rest with the male pinned firmly beneath me, my hand covering his mouth to prevent more of that Ain-awful noise coming from his lips.

His eyes—the sight of them makes me freeze. They are a strange, single-colored blue without proper vertical pupils. Now they widen at me in shock and possibly fear. I can feel his dra-kir racing against my chest, his body radiating heat that speaks of exertion and stress.

His strange eyes dart wildly, searching for escape. Up close, I can see other disturbing details. His skin is even paler than I first realized, showing every pulse of his dra’kir beneath. Then there’s the rounded flatness of his teeth visible through parted lips, the small pertness of his nose. Not to mention the complete absence of status markings on any visible skin.

He is the most beautiful male I have ever seen in all my existence…and yet, everything about this male is wrong.

The struggle intensifies as he thrashes beneath me, making those horrible sounds despite my attempt to muffle them. My concentration slips for a moment, thrown by his strange features and the complete absence of mindspeak. Clawless digits connect with my jaw. The impact is weak, but that single touch is enough. It sends a burst of information through my nervous system—temperature, texture, scent—all foreign, all wrong.

His screeching grows louder, and my blood runs cold. Those sounds will carry across the dust. Every dust stalker within range will hear it, and the thought of those massive predators with their crystal-tipped claws makes my skin ripple with unease. Even a full hunting party approaches those beasts with caution. Alone, with this thrashing male drawing attention…

I must stop his racket.

I do not know how.

I release him and spring back, dropping into a defensive crouch, my body coiled and ready. The male scrambles away, falling twice before gaining his feet. He backs away but doesn’t flee, watching me with those unnatural eyes. His chest heaves with exertion and my brow tightens. His chest is not flat like mine.

There are two rounded mounds. He must carry gourds strapped underneath the strange trophy hides he wears. What else does he hide? A blade? Some weapon I cannot see?

My gaze snaps up to his when more sounds suddenly spill from his mouth. This time in shorter bursts.

It hurts my ears.

I am not used to such constant noise-making. It has been many many moons since I had the need to use my own voice—and that had only been because I was in dire circumstances. With no Drakav close by, I could only shout to get someone’s attention as the sandfin had tried to pull me under the dust to its den.

This male needs to be silent.

Ain touches the horizon. Soon the dust stalkers will begin their hunt.

My gaze travels over the male before me. To the wide blue eyes. The strangely soft face. The way he’s looking at me, still making those vocalizations that I wish I could silence.

I’ve prevented him from reaching the rival clan’s territory, but now I face an impossible choice. I cannot take him back to my tribe—bringing an unknown male to our sanctuary would be unforgivable. But I cannot leave him here, either to continue his mission or to become prey. If he dies in our territory, his clan—wherever they are—might seek vengeance.

Dust curse it.

A distant screech echoes across the dunes—not the male this time, but a hunting call. The male’s head snaps toward the sound, and for the first time, I see real terror in those strange eyes.

What am I to do with this void-minded, water-wasting, marker-defiling creature?

The answer comes to me as another screech tears through the air, far across the dunes. The male’s strange coverings will not protect him from what he has attracted here. His pale hide will be torn to shreds before Ain rises again.

I sniff the air, eyeing him as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.

I know what I will do.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 7

OceanofPDF.com

WHEN “FIRST CONTACT” MEANS EXACTLY WHAT THE FUCK IT SAYS

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JUSTINE

It’s a man. A person. The first living thing I’ve encountered apart from that ungodly screech I heard in the distance just now.

My heart hammers against my ribs as I stare at the figure before me. No, not a man—something else entirely. Humanoid, yes, but definitely not human.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, backing away slowly. I’ve discovered an alien.

If this doesn’t confirm we’re on another planet far away from Earth, I don’t know what will.

Unless the Xyma hired really committed cosplayers who got just as lost as we did, I’m going to go with door number one: definitely alien.

He’s tall—at least seven or more feet of lean, sculpted muscle. His skin is the first thing that draws my attention—a golden amber that seems to shift and ripple like the very dunes around us. His face is angular, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw that could cut glass.

And he’s completely, and utterly NAKED.

I avert my gaze then realize there’s nothing particularly…obvious…to avoid looking at. Either his people have different anatomy or there’s some kind of concealment I’m not seeing. I’m too disoriented to figure it out and frankly, being poked in the eye by D is the least of my concerns right now.

Oh shit, what did the Xyma do when they arrived on Earth again? I was so frickin’ terrified I can hardly remember. Funny how the entire Earth population has just moved on and accepted them from those early days. But the being in front of me does not look accepting right now.

“Um, hello?” I try, raising my hands in what I hope is a universal gesture of non-aggression. “I come in peace? That’s what you’re supposed to say, right?”

The being winces at the sound of my voice, his strange eyes narrowing. They’re amazing—vertical pupils like a cat’s, with irises the color of true topaz flecked with bronze. His reaction makes me lower my voice to just above a whisper.

“Sorry. Too loud?”

He remains in a crouched position, perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet, looking ready to either flee or attack. His nostrils flare slightly as he…sniffs me? Great. I probably smell really rich right now.

“Look,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady and quiet, “I’m lost. My people are back that way.” I point in the direction of the transport. He doesn’t even turn his head to look. Doesn’t even glance at my arm. Those eyes remain locked on mine and it’s hard to keep focus. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. “We’re stranded. Do you understand?”