“Don’t laugh,” she says, pointing a finger at me. “This is your fault.”

Her words are sharp, but there’s no real anger in them. If anything, there’s a flicker of amusement in her tone, and for a moment, the tension between us eases.

Then she sighs, gesturing toward the floor. “Do you need to…rest or something? Recover?”

I get images of my own form resting on the stone. Of her resting beside me.

Jus-teen blinks at me before she mimes lying down, her movements exaggerated, and I realize she still doesn’t know I am getting imprints of her thoughts. She is not doing it on purpose then.

And I…do not want to tell her. Not yet.

Something tells me that if I do, all these delicious images she’s sending my way will stop.

So, instead, I lower my head and press my forehead to hers, letting the soft, trembling warmth of her skin connect with mine.

The moment our foreheads touch, it’s as if the ground beneath me shifts.

A jolt of energy surges through me and I hear her gasp, feel the slight tremor in her body as it passes through her, too.

Her hands fly to my arms, clutching at me for balance as her knees buckle slightly. A soft, breathless moan escapes her lips, and the sound strikes me like lightning, sinking deep into my chest.

“No rest,” I project, my thoughts flowing into hers like dust melding with dust. My voice in her mind is steady, but the words carry the weight of my urgency, the fire that still burns within me. “No time. We have already delayed too long.”

Her breath hitches again, her trembling growing more pronounced as my thoughts wrap around hers. I can feel the heat of her emotions—confusion, fear, curiosity—all interwoven with something else. Something warmer.

“Rok…” she whispers, the sound of my name soft but filled with trust.

My name in her mouth does things to me. Makes my claws curl. Makes my cock twitch and throb. And the thoughts bleeding from her mind—dust.

She sees me all wrong.

I know what I am. Scar tissue and survival. Claws made for gutting prey, not…whatever soft things she imagines when I touch her. But her mind keeps throwing these broken reflections at me:

—My battle-worn hands gentle on her hips

—My fangs (which have ripped out throats) making her shiver when I bite

—Some golden-eyed being she’s built from dust and hope

Worst part? I want to be that for her.

The realization tastes like blood in my mouth. I’ve spent cycles proving I’m the sharpest blade in the clan, and now this soft-skinned female has me aching to sheathe myself in her fantasies.

Her breath hitches when I step closer. I can smell her pulse jump—hear the wet catch in her throat. She thinks I don’t notice how her thighs press together when I loom over her. Like she’s trying to drown in my shadow.

And then, under all that, a burning need. A fire growing. A sensation that rises and culminates in a single spot between her thighs.

She cuts herself off, but I’ve already felt it. That fire. The pull between us that neither of us can deny.

The stars beneath my skin pulse faintly, responding to her, but they don’t return. My transformation is complete, I suppose. This is not the chaos from before. This is something new.

Is this mind sickness?

I should walk away. Should let her see the real me—the one who left her people to rot in that valley. But then her fingers brush my chest, and the lie does not manifest to thought.

I pull back slightly, just enough to meet her gaze. Her pupils are blown wide, her cheeks flushed a deep red, and her lips are parted slightly, as if she’s struggling to catch her breath.

She doesn’t move away.

She doesn’t pull back.

I can sense her every breath. Every beat of her dra-kir. As if Xiraxis has formed around her and she is the world in its entirety.

The fire within me still burns, but it’s no longer a chaotic blaze. It’s a controlled heat now, simmering just beneath the surface, focused and ready.

And at the center of it all is her.

The small, fragile being who has placed her trust in me despite everything.

I will not fail her.

I put my forehead to hers. “I will take you to your clan. But first we must go to mine.”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 27

OceanofPDF.com

HELP ME, OBI-WAN KENOBI. YOU’RE MY ONLY HOPE (OF ESCAPING THIS SEXUAL TENSION)

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JUSTINE

We don’t leave the cave once night falls.

“Too dangerous,” Rok says—or rather, thinks at me, his forehead pressed briefly against mine. “Predators hunt in darkness.”

I nod, pretending this makes perfect sense, like receiving telepathic warnings about alien predators is just part of my daily routine now. No big deal. Just another day on Planet Dust.

“Sure, sure,” I reply, as if we’re discussing whether to grab takeout or cook dinner. “Wouldn’t want to be someone’s midnight snack.”

The tension between us is thick enough to cut with a knife. Or one of those wicked claws of his. We’ve both been carefully avoiding discussing what happened earlier—his cosmic transformation, the stars beneath his skin, and especially that new…addition to his anatomy.

Which is now mercifully covered by my sacrificed pants legs, though the makeshift loincloth does little to disguise the impressive outline beneath.

Not that I’m looking. Much.

And Rok, Rok seems tense. Not tense like he was before when he was in pain. This is different. He’s watching me like a hawk, and the look in his eyes is making me feel all sorts of things. He ventures out briefly—just outside the cave entrance—to hunt, returning with more of those strange lizard creatures. He prepares them the same way as before, removing the dangerous parts and cooking them just enough to make the meat safe.

My observant alien even cooks mine a little longer, his nostrils flaring as if he thinks he’s doing a disservice, but he does it anyway.

It’s still a little rarer than I’d like, but I eat without complaint, too hungry to be fussy. The protein feels good, strengthening, and I know I’ll need my energy for tomorrow’s journey.

After eating, I deliberately position myself on the opposite side of the cave from Rok. It seems like the sensible thing to do, given…everything. Distance. That’s what we need. Distance and time to process whatever is happening between us.

Except I can’t sleep.

I lie on my side, facing the wall, acutely aware of every sound he makes across the chamber. The soft sounds of him moving. The steady rhythm of his breathing. The occasional low rumble that might be a sigh or might be something else entirely.

I can hear every slight shift when I hadn’t been able to before. Rok has always been so silent to me. Just another of those new skills I’ve developed, I guess.

When I finally give up and roll over, I find him watching me, his eyes reflecting the dim glow from the stones that are still burning. How? Alien magic, maybe.

He doesn’t look away when I catch him staring. If anything, his gaze intensifies, his lips parting slightly to reveal those sharp teeth in what’s his version of a smile.

Bastard.

It should be terrifying—those fangs, those predatory eyes—but somehow it just looks…rakish. Almost charming, in a dangerous, alien sort of way.

I notice something else, too. His skin, which has always emitted that warm, golden glow, is now completely dark. Not the star-filled darkness from earlier, just…normal. Like human skin, but with that strange amber-gold tone.