Is this new? Another change along with his newly acquired anatomy? Or is this how he’s always been? Able to control his luminosity at will.

There’s so much I don’t know about him. So much I can’t ask without pressing my forehead to his and entering that strange mental space where our thoughts intermingle.

I’m not ready for that. Not yet. Not with the memory of his transformation still so fresh, and certainly not with the current state of his…lower half.

I mean, where did it even come from? There’s no way he hid that thing in some lower cavity I didn’t notice. It’s just…too big!

After another hour of pretending to sleep while secretly watching him watch me, I give up and sit up.

“I need some water,” I announce to the darkness, not sure if he understands the words but needing to say something to break the silence.

I make my way to the pool, grateful for the cool, clear water that seems perpetually fresh, as if being constantly replenished from some underground source. I cup my hands and drink deeply, knowing how precious this liquid will be once we’re back in the desert tomorrow.

“Drink it all, Justine,” I mutter to myself. “Who knows when you’ll see water again once we’re out in the sand with only Bitch Sun for company.”

The thought of tomorrow’s journey makes my stomach clench with anxiety. Not just the physical challenges—the heat, the terrain, the dangers Rok warned me about—but the fact that I’ll be doing it with only half my pants.

“A miniskirt,” I say with a disbelieving laugh. “I’m going to trek across an alien desert in a makeshift miniskirt and heels. Because apparently, that’s where my life choices have led me.”

Still, it was worth it. The alternative—Rok walking around with his new appendage swinging free—was simply not an option. Not if I wanted to maintain any semblance of focus or dignity.

And yet, despite my best efforts, my mind keeps returning to the image of it. To him. To how that perfect, thick head would feel⁠—

“Nope,” I say aloud, splashing water on my face to cool my suddenly burning cheeks. “Not going there. Not thinking about alien anatomy. Absolutely not.”

Except…it wasn’t truly alien, was it? At least, not in the way I would have expected. It looked surprisingly…uh…attractive, if exceptionally well-proportioned. Almost as if designed specifically to appeal to human—to my—preferences.

Did this planet just custom-order a dick for me? What kind of five-star resort bullshit is this?

“Right,” I snort softly. “Because the universe conspired to create the perfect alien penis just for me. That makes total sense.”

The absurdity of it all hits me suddenly, and I have to stifle a hysterical laugh. Here I am, on God knows which planet, hiding in a cave with a golden-skinned, occasionally glowing alien, concerned about his newly manifested genitalia while we prepare to trek across a desert to find my sister and the others.

If I woke up tomorrow and discovered this had all been some elaborate fever dream while I was passed out on that bus, I’d be…relieved?

No. That’s not quite right. Confused, certainly. Bewildered, absolutely. But also, strangely…disappointed?

“You’re losing it, Justine,” I mutter, pushing myself up from the pool’s edge. “Complete mental breakdown imminent.”

I turn to head back to my designated sleeping area, but my eyes catch on Rok again. He’s sitting by the fire, his body angled so that the makeshift covering does little to hide the still-prominent outline beneath. How is he still…like that? Doesn’t he get uncomfortable?

Obviously, he could just…take care of it. I mean, I’m not a prude. Everyone does it. I certainly wouldn’t judge him for needing some relief after whatever transformation he went through.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he’s focused intently on something in his hands—a small, round object that looks vaguely like a miniature pumpkin. He’s using one of those sharp bone tools to carve into it, his movements precise and delicate despite his massive claws.

I’m so distracted by the unexpected sight that I don’t immediately notice when his attention shifts from his project to me. But when I do, the intensity of his gaze makes my breath catch.

Heat creeps up my neck and into my cheeks, and I look away quickly, suddenly very interested in a random spot on the cave wall.

But the damage is done. The thought is there, firmly lodged in my mind—Rok, alone in the darkness, those strong hands wrapped around himself, those starlit eyes closing in pleasure…

I shuffle awkwardly back to my spot, keeping my eyes firmly on the ground. The heat that started in my face has migrated lower, settling in my core like a banked ember, ready to flare at the slightest provocation.

This is worse than those dreams.

A pulse goes through my core, and I clench my thighs. No. I can’t—not here, not like this, with him watching. But my body doesn’t care. Every breath I take drags his scent deeper into my lungs, my muscles clenching around nothing. I squeeze my eyes shut. Was it the air? The water? Or just him?

I swallow hard, my nails biting into my palms. I need to touch him. Need him to touch me. Need⁠—

No.

This is ridiculous. I’ve never been this sexually frustrated in my life. Not even during that four-year dry spell after breaking up with my ex. Not even during the pandemic lockdowns.

It has to be this planet. The air, maybe, or something in the water. Some alien aphrodisiac that’s affecting my normally very reasonable libido.

Because the alternative—that I’m genuinely, intensely attracted to Rok, who until recently didn’t even have the appropriate equipment—is too bizarre to contemplate.

I curl up on my side again, squeezing my eyes shut and willing myself to sleep. “Just rest,” I mutter. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day of not dying in the desert. Focus on that.”

Eventually, exhaustion wins out over my racing thoughts. I guess I fall asleep because in the next moment…

__

His hands are everywhere at once—too much, not enough. Calluses scrape my ribs as his mouth hits that spot under my ear that makes my hips jerk. I’m panting before we even really start, nails digging into his shoulders hard enough that I smell copper.

“Fuck, Rok—” The words get strangled when he growls against my throat. Not some romantic purr—a real fucking growl, all vibration and teeth that I feel in my teeth.

His knee shoves my legs apart like he’s staking a claim. No sweet nothings, just ragged breathing and the slick sound of his mouth on my skin. When his fingers dig into my thighs, I know there’ll be bruises tomorrow.

I don’t care.

I can feel him, all of him, pressing where I’m already soaked through. No poetry here. Just sweat and spit and the animalistic need to get closer. My heel rams into the small of his back, pulling him in hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.

“Oh fu— You’re huge—” I’m not thinking in complete sentences anymore. Just heat and pressure and the single-minded drive to take everything this golden bastard can give me.

His claws catch the light as they trail down my stomach. He’s holding himself back by a thread and we both know it. I can see his control fraying in the twitch of his jaw, the way his hips stutter when I rock up against him.

“Stop being so fucking careful,” I snarl, biting his shoulder hard enough to taste him. Salt and something electric, like licking a battery.

His answering snarl shakes the cave walls.

__

I jolt awake, my body flushed and trembling, the echo of dream-pleasure still pulsing between my legs. For a moment, I’m disoriented, unsure where I am or what woke me.

Then reality crashes back—the cave, the pool, Rok…

Rok, who is watching me from across the chamber, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, his expression unreadable.