“No fire,” I project, though I do not think she receives the message. I mimic creating a flame with my claws, then spread them wide—the gesture for absence among my people.

For a moment, she blinks at me and then understanding dawns in her eyes, followed by poorly concealed dismay as she looks back at the pale, glistening flesh of the dust crabs. To her credit, she doesn’t recoil, merely takes a deep breath as if steeling herself for an unpleasant task.

When I offer her a portion—the best parts, with the least bitterness—she accepts it with a grateful nod, though her expression suggests she’s preparing for battle rather than a meal.

Her first bite is cautious, tentative. She chews slowly, her face contorting briefly before she forces herself to swallow. But she doesn’t complain, merely continues eating with determined efficiency, washing down each bite with small sips from what’s left in her gourd.

I will need to carve her a better one, I think as I watch her eat. It is hard not to admire her resilience, her adaptability. She is stronger than she appears, this soft creature from beyond the dust.

But as she eats, my gaze shifts to the movement of her throat as she swallows, the way her lips press together between bites, the occasional dart of her tongue to catch a stray morsel. Each small action sends a fresh pulse of heat through me, stoking the fire that has been building all day.

I cannot continue like this. The pressure is becoming unbearable, the need too insistent to ignore. If I remain here, watching her, I fear what I might do—what primal impulse might override my reason and honor.

“Rest,” I lean forward, touching my forehead to hers briefly before rising to my feet more abruptly than I intended.

She looks up at me, confusion clear in her expression. “Where are you going?” she vocalizes, her tone making the question clear even if I don’t understand her words.

I gesture vaguely toward the cave entrance, then mimic the motion of scanning the horizon.

I don’t wait for her response, striding quickly from the cave before my resolve can weaken. The cool evening air is a relief against my heated skin, but it does nothing to dampen the insistent throbbing between my thighs.

I move a short distance from the cave, just far enough that she won’t hear or see me, but close enough that I can reach her quickly if danger approaches. Finding a secluded spot behind a large boulder, I lean against the cooling stone and finally allow myself to address the need that has been tormenting me all day.

With swift, decisive movements, I unfasten the hide covering, freeing my stem from its confines. It springs forth eagerly, fully extended and aching with need. The sacs beneath it feel heavier than before, tight and full of something I instinctively know must be released.

I wrap my claw around the length of it, flinching slightly at even that light touch. The sensitivity is almost painful, but the pleasure that follows the pain is immediate and intense.

As I begin to move my claw, stroking from base to tip and back again, I close my eyes and let the sensation wash over me. Images of Jus-teen fill my mind—her perfection, her laugh, the way she looked at me when I transformed, fear and wonder mingling in her expression.

I think of her body pressed against mine as I carried her across the dust, the feel of her soft curves, the scent of her skin. I remember the taste of her essence, sweet and tangy on my tongue, and the sounds she made when pleasure overtook her.

The memory alone is enough to make my movements quicken, my breath coming in harsh pants as the pressure builds. I should feel shame for using thoughts of her this way, but I cannot bring myself to care. Not when the release is so close, so desperately needed.

When it comes, it is even more powerful than before—a surge of pleasure so intense it nearly brings me to my knees, my claw squeezing rhythmically as wetness spills over my fingers in pulsing waves. For moments afterward, I can only lean against the stone, trembling, as my body slowly calms.

The relief is immediate but incomplete. Like a thirst only partially quenched, it leaves me satisfied for the moment but aware that the need will return. And with it, the knowledge that what my body truly craves cannot be satisfied by my own touch.

I clean myself as best I can, brief guilt as I bury the moisture beneath the dust and refasten the hide covering. I make a quick circuit of our shelter to ensure no threats have approached while I was…distracted. Finding nothing concerning, I return to the cave, composed once more, ready to face Jus-teen without the overwhelming desperation that drove me away.

She looks up as I enter, her expression questioning but not suspicious. “Everything okay out there?” she asks, gesturing toward the entrance.

I nod, moving to sit across from her against the opposite wall of the cave. The distance between us is necessary, I tell myself. Safe.

But even as I think it, I find my gaze drawn to her again and again. To the curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder. To the soft swell of her chest beneath her coverings. To her hands, small and delicate, yet capable of such strength.

This soft creature is mine to protect, I remind myself. Mine to guide safely to my clan. Nothing more.

But as she settles back against the cave wall, her eyes drifting closed in exhaustion, I cannot help but wonder if that is truly all she is to me. If that is all she can ever be.

The stars that appeared beneath my skin, the transformation of my body, the constant pull I feel toward her—surely these things mean something. Surely the ancestors would not have remade me so completely without purpose.

I watch her as she slips into sleep, her breathing deep and even, her face peaceful in the firelight. And in that moment, I make a silent vow to the ancestors, to Ain herself.

I will discover what this connection between us means. I will understand why I have been transformed. And I will honor whatever purpose the ancestors have set before me, even if it means embracing feelings I cannot yet name.

Until then, I will protect her with every breath in my body. I will guide her safely through the dust. I will reunite her with her clan and bring her into mine.

And I will control this fire within me, no matter the cost.

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Chapter 29

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PROOF THAT ALIENS HAVE EXCELLENT TASTE (IN EVERYTHING)

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JUSTINE

I wake with a start, my heart pounding and my skin flushed. The dream clings to me like damned desert dust—vivid and embarrassingly real. Rok’s hands were everywhere, leaving trails of lightning. I’d gasped as his claws scored my ribs, pleasure so sharp it bordered on agony. ‘Mine,’ he’d snarled against my throat as my back arched, offering myself. His mouth had sealed over my nipple, sucking hard, and I’d cried out—only to wake panting…and with my fingers already buried between my thighs.

I freeze. Oh. Oh no. My clit throbs.

I’ve never woken up like this, fingers wet, hips grinding into my own hand. A broken sound escapes me. Another alien fantasy to add to my growing collection. What is this planet doing to me?

I press my thighs together, trying to quiet the persistent ache there, and take a deep breath to steady myself. The cave is dark, just faint starlight filtering through the narrow entrance, but something feels off. Something woke me.

A sound. Movement.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I make out Rok’s silhouette near the cave entrance. He’s pacing—three steps one way, pivot, three steps back—his movements jagged and tense. His breathing sounds labored, almost pained, and alarm shoots through me.