Heat rushes to my cheeks at the memory, but I can’t shake the suspicion. What if having sex with Rok is what triggered this? What if the wet dreams, the fever, the constant arousal—what if all of it was pushing me toward exactly what happened in that cave?

Like the universe, or the planet itself, wanted me to get on with it already.

And the moment I did—boom. Telepathy.

If I’d known alien sex came with superpowers, I would have signed up for NASA years ago.

What’s more disturbing is how good I feel now. The fever that plagued me, gone. The headache? Gone. I feel stronger, clearer, more alert than I have since waking up on this dust ball. Like his touch has somehow changed me from the inside out, making me more adapted to this world. Making me more like him, perhaps.

But that’s preposterous. Right?

Rok leads the way through the winding canyon, his powerful body moving with effortless grace. I follow, surprised to find that I’m keeping pace without struggling. Just days ago, I could barely walk an hour without needing to rest, my lungs burning, my limbs shaking with exhaustion.

But now? I feel like I could run a marathon. Well, maybe not a marathon, but definitely more than I should be capable of after nearly dying multiple times on this planet.

“You are quiet,” Rok’s thought brushes against my mind. “This is not like you. Does something trouble you?”

“I’m just thinking about how weird all this is,” I reply, gesturing vaguely between us. “This mind-reading thing. The fact that I’m suddenly feeling better than I have since I got here.”

He glances back at me, his golden eyes assessing. “Your body is adapting to the dust.”

“Yeah, but why now? And why so suddenly?” I push my hair back from my face, frustrated. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Rok slows, falling into step beside me. “Some things do not need to make sense, Jus-teen. They simply are.”

“That’s a very…alien way of looking at it,” I mutter.

He tilts his head. “Alien zen?” The thought comes to me haltingly, like he’s turning it over in his own head.

I snort. “No, just—wait, how do you even know the word ‘zen’?”

His nostrils flare slightly. “You thought it at me. With images.” A pause. “Small man with fur obscuring his mouth. Strange sitting pose.” His claws flex. “Why does he not fall over?”

“Mother of—, you’re literally inside my head watching my mental reruns of Kung Fu Panda?” My face burns. “Forget I said anything.”

His amusement ripples through me anyway, warm as the sunlight. After a few moments, he glances at me. “Perhaps you are right, my light. Or perhaps you think too much.”

“Story of my life,” I sigh, but I’m biting back a grin.

As we walk, I can’t help but notice the way Rok positions himself—always slightly ahead of me, his massive body between me and any potential threat. He scans the landscape constantly, nostrils flaring as he scents the air, ears twitching at the slightest sound.

At first, I thought it was just caution—the same way he’s been since he found me. But there’s something different now. Something in the way his eyes track back to me every few seconds, as if he physically can’t go too long without confirming I’m still there. The way he shifts his body whenever I move, maintaining a perfect shield between me and the open desert.

It reminds me of documentaries I’ve watched about certain animals after they mate—wolves, eagles, some big cats. The way they change, become attuned to their partners on a level that goes beyond simple attraction.

I remember what he said in the cave: “As real as the pain I feel whenever you are not near. As if part of me is missing.” At the time, I thought it was just a romantic exaggeration. But what if it wasn’t?

Rok isn’t human. He’s something else entirely—wild, beautiful, deadly. An alien creature with instincts and biology I can barely comprehend.

What if he’s…what if he’s imprinted on me?

He said he’d have killed me, but something stopped him.

A shiver goes down my spine at the thought that I came so close to dying and didn’t even know.

And then there’s the fact that his dick emerged, thick and perfect, just the way I like it.

Oh my God…this can’t be real.

He turns at that moment, catching my gaze, and something in his golden eyes makes my breath stop in my throat. The intensity there…it’s devotion. Something ancient and unshakeable.

“What?” I ask, feeling strangely vulnerable under that stare.

“You are beautiful under Ain’s glare,” he replies simply, and the sincerity in his mental voice makes my heart flip.

Before I can respond, his entire demeanor suddenly changes. His head snaps up, nostrils flaring, muscles tensing. I freeze, recognizing the signs of danger.

“What is it?” I push through my thoughts as I scan the terrain for threats. “Rival clan again?”

Rok doesn’t answer. His eyes narrow, focusing on something in the distance that I can’t make out.

“Rok?” I reach for him, but he moves away, stepping in front of me, his posture shifting to something more aggressive.

“Stay behind me,” he growls in my mind.

I peer around his massive frame, trying to see what’s got him so alarmed. The landscape appears empty—just rock formations and endless sand stretching toward the horizon.

And then I see it. Movement. Just a flicker at first, then a blur of motion so fast I can barely track it—a golden shape launching from a high rock, sailing through the air with impossible speed.

Before I can even cry out, the figure slams into Rok with bone-crushing force, sending them both crashing to the sand in a tangle of limbs and snarls.

“Rok!” I scream, my heart in my throat as I stumble backward.

The two forms roll across the ground, dust flying up around them as they grapple. I catch glimpses of the attacker—golden skin like Rok’s, but darker, more burnished. Broader shoulders. Longer, sharper fangs bared in a snarl.

Another male. One of Rok’s kind, but clearly not friendly.

Panic surges through me. Is it one of the rival clan? Did they track us after all? I have to help him—but how? I have no weapons, no strength that could possibly match these beings.

My hands fumble, but all I’m carrying is my gourd of water. Not much of a weapon, but it’s all I have.

I don’t think. I just act.

Rushing forward, I raise the gourd high and bring it down with all my strength on the attacker’s head. The container splits open with a crack, water splashing over the male’s face and shoulders.

He freezes, shock evident in his suddenly wide eyes. His head swivels toward me, water dripping from his jaw, and a voice—not Rok’s, deeper, rougher—thunders in my mind.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE DUST?!”

The sheer force of his mental shout makes me stagger back. His amber eyes lock onto mine, rage and confusion warring in their depths.

“Another male? You bring a rival male into our territory, Rok? One who wastes precious water?” The voice in my head is accusing, furious.

Before I can process what’s happening, the stranger lunges for me, a growl ripping from his throat. I flinch, throwing my arms up in a pathetic attempt to shield myself—but the impact never comes.

Rok slams into the attacker mid-leap, driving him into the ground with enough force to send sand spraying in all directions.

“SHE IS FEMALE!” Rok’s mental shout is even louder than the stranger’s, filled with fury and…fear? “STAND DOWN, THARN!”

The name registers dimly in my panicked brain. Tharn. Not an enemy, then—at least, not from the rival clan. Someone Rok knows.

The two males separate, both crouched low, tense and ready to spring. I stay frozen, heart hammering against my ribs.