I will not allow it.

She huffs and begins walking again, her stride stiff. I let her take three more steps before I move, closing the distance between us in just two strides.

I catch her easily, lifting her off her feet and into my arms. Her body is lighter than it should be, fragile bones wrapped in soft skin, nothing like the dense, armored forms of the Drakav. She fits against my chest as if made to be there.

Her vocalizations turn sharp, piercing. I do not need to understand her words to know she is not happy with me. Her small hands push against my chest, ineffectual but insistent.

I ignore her protests. I will bear her anger, her resentment, her futile struggles. I will bear anything if it means keeping her alive.

I turn away from the deadly ridges, carrying her toward the safety of the eastern caves. She will not understand. She will fight me. But she will live.

And perhaps, in time, she will understand that I could not let her walk to her death simply because she could not hear the warnings in my mind.

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Chapter 14

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DESERT RAGE IS JUST HOTTER KIDNAPPING

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JUSTINE

“Put me down! Right now! This is the second time you’ve kidnapped me, you giant glowy asshole!”

I’m pounding my fists against his chest, which is about as effective as hitting a brick wall with a marshmallow. My knuckles are going to be bruised, and he doesn’t even seem to notice.

“I said put me DOWN!” I kick my legs, which just results in his arms tightening around me. “Don’t you dare squeeze me like a tube of toothpaste—I swear I will bite you!”

Rok—because apparently that’s his name—continues striding across the desert as if I weigh nothing at all. His face is set in that same impassive expression, golden eyes fixed on the horizon, completely ignoring my tantrum.

Because that’s what this is, if I’m being honest. A full-blown, toddler-level tantrum. And it’s getting me exactly nowhere.

“You know what?” I say, finally going limp in his arms. “Fine. Take me wherever you want. I’m not wasting any more energy on this.”

He glances down at me, one eyebrow raised in what might be surprise or skepticism.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m conserving my strength for when you finally put me down and I can run away properly.”

He makes that rumbling sound again—definitely laughter—and continues his relentless march away from the direction I think I need to go in. Because let’s face it. I’m lost. And Rok here, doesn’t seem interested in helping me get back.

I let my head fall back against his arm, staring up at the yellow sky. It’s starting to really sink in that I’m on another planet. Actually, legitimately on another planet.

“This is fine,” I mutter. “Everything is going to be fine.”

I’m just about to close my eyes and resign myself to my fate when I catch a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. Not Rok’s movement—something else. Something under the sand.

I jerk upright, suddenly alert. “Did you see that?”

Rok keeps walking, but his stride changes slightly, becomes more measured, more cautious. So he saw it too.

There it is again—a ripple beneath the surface of the sand, like something large moving just below. Like a shark, but without the fin.

“What the fuck is that?” I whisper, my fingers digging into Rok’s arm without me even realizing it.

Another ripple appears, closer this time, and suddenly I’m very, very glad I’m not the one walking on the sand.

“Okay, so maybe you had a point about not wandering around out here alone,” I admit. “But you still didn’t have to kidnap me. Again.”

He doesn’t respond, of course, but something in his posture relaxes slightly. It’s as if he can sense when I’ve conceded a point, even if he can’t understand my words.

With nothing else to do, I find myself studying him more closely. The way he moves across the sand is almost graceful—each step sure but light, barely leaving an impression. Unlike me, who would be sinking ankle-deep with every step.

His skin is fascinating up close. The subtle glow seems to come from within, and the markings across his chest were definitely carved there. I wince, just thinking about it. Almost without thinking, I flatten my palm against the raised bumps, feeling the texture of those markings.

He stiffens slightly at my touch, golden eyes darting down to meet mine.

“Sorry,” I say, not removing my hand. “Just…curious.”

What strikes me most, though, is that despite the heat—and it’s getting hotter by the minute—there’s not a drop of sweat on him. The sun isn’t at its peak yet, but it’s still hot enough that I can feel sweat beading at my hairline, trickling down my back.

“You’re not sweating,” I say, as if he can understand. “How are you not sweating? Are you even warm-blooded? Or is this some kind of…I don’t know…alien temperature regulation thing?”

His chest rumbles beneath my palm, and I realize I’m still touching him. I should probably move my hand, but…I don’t. The feel of his skin under my fingers is…not unpleasant.

Actually, it’s kind of nice. Cool. Soothing. Firm but with a strange, smooth texture that reminds me a little of polished stone. Rok. Rock. I almost laugh at the aptness of it.

“Your skin feels like stone,” I tell him. “Rok. Rock. Get it? Actually, that’s probably why you’re called that, isn’t it? You’re literally rock-solid.”

I’m rambling now, but it’s better than thinking about the fact that I’m lost, being carried God knows where by an alien who may or may not understand a word I’m saying, while strange creatures swim through the sand around us.

Speaking of which…

His eyes are constantly moving, scanning the horizon, the dunes, the ripples in the sand. He seems to catch every movement, no matter how small. When something that looks like a beetle crawls across our path, he tracks it with those golden eyes before it even fully emerges from hiding.

This ‘desert’ is a lot more alive than I first thought. It’s taken me too long to notice these things. Even about him.

My gaze drifts up to his ears—longer and more pointed than human ears, almost elf-like—and I notice they’re actually moving slightly, twitching and turning as if catching sounds I can’t hear.

“That’s why you were wincing when I was yelling, isn’t it?” I say with a sudden realization. “Those ears of yours—they’re like satellite dishes. You can probably hear a pin drop from a mile away.”

He glances down at me, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes that makes me think I might be right.

“Great. So I’ve been basically screaming into megaphones the whole time. No wonder you looked like you wanted to drown me in sand half the time.” I sigh. Oddly, I’m embarrassed. “Sorry about that. I’ll try to keep it down.”

Another thought occurs to me—if his hearing is that sensitive, maybe that’s how he found me in the first place. Maybe he heard me talking, or screaming, or just generally making a human-sized racket out there in the desert.

Or maybe he saw me from miles away with those golden eyes. Either way, it raises another question.

“Are there more of you?” I ask, then realize how that sounds. “I mean, you can’t be the only one of your kind out here, right? You must have…I don’t know…a family? A tribe or something?”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I remember how he reacted the last time I tried to ask about other people like him. His entire demeanor had changed. He’d nearly bit my head off. It wasn’t an invitation to keep asking questions.