“Fe-male?” Tharn’s mental voice is incredulous, his amber eyes narrowing as they sweep over me. “That is not female.”

“She is,” Rok insists, moving to stand between me and Tharn. “From beyond the dust. A being from beyond.”

Tharn’s eyes widen slightly, his attention fully on me now. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, wishing I could somehow look more obviously female to avoid another battle.

But then Tharn’s gaze suddenly shifts to Rok.

“What in the dust is on your being?” He asks suddenly, his gaze dropping to Rok’s waist. “You wear hides as trophies now?”

I follow his gaze and have to stifle an inappropriate laugh. He’s staring at Rok’s loincloth—the one I fashioned for him after his…anatomical changes.

“It is not a trophy,” Rok replies, his mental tone defensive. “My female made it to cover my stem.”

“Your female?” Tharn snarls, his fangs looking decisively wicked. But then his face contorts in disbelief. “Lies. Why would you need to do that? Your stem is always in your pouch.”

To my absolute horror—and secret fascination—Rok reaches down and grips himself through the loincloth, the shape of his impressive erection clearly outlined by the gesture.

“No,” he says calmly. “Not anymore.”

Tharn physically recoils, shock evident in every line of his body. His gaze darts between Rok’s loincloth and my face, his expression a mix of disbelief and growing curiosity.

“Let me see the male,” he demands, trying to circle around Rok to get a better look at me.

Rok moves with him, keeping me firmly behind his bulk. “Fe-male,” he corrects. A growl rumbles low in his throat.

“Impossible,” Tharn scoffs.

“Possible,” Rok counters.

There’s a long pause, the tension between them almost palpable. Then Tharn’s mental voice comes again, quieter but no less intense.

“A daughter of Ain?”

Rok doesn’t answer, but I feel a ripple of unease from him. The silence stretches. I could cut the tension with a steak knife.

I can’t take it anymore. Ducking under Rok’s arm, I step out from behind him, ignoring his growl of warning.

Tharn stares at me, his amber eyes widening a fraction. Up close, I can see the differences between him and Rok more clearly. He’s bulkier, his features more angular, his skin a deeper golden bronze with patterns of darker markings across his shoulders.

Remembering how Rok had initially reacted to my voice, I decide to try this telepathy thing first. I focus on projecting my thoughts directly to Tharn, hoping he can hear me as clearly as Rok now can.

“I am female,” I think firmly. “We…landed here. Rok helped me. He is no liar. I owe him my life.”

Tharn’s eyes narrow, his head tilting in a gesture so similar to Rok’s that it makes my chest tighten with an unexpected wave of fondness.

“You claim to be female, yet look as a male does,” he thinks back, his mental voice laced with skepticism. “Only smaller…softer…” His brow furrows, and I can almost see the confusion and disbelief warring with his stubbornness to not believe. “Why would Rok risk himself for an outsider? This does not make sense.”

“Trust me,” I respond dryly, “where I’m from, I’m definitely female. Though this is the first planet where my lack of curves has been mistaken for a different species rather than just bad genetics.”

Tharn’s gaze flicks to Rok, who stands tense beside me, ready to intervene at the slightest provocation.

“You claim this one is female?” Tharn asks Rok directly. “This small, pale thing?”

“I do not claim,” Rok growls. “She is.”

Tharn circles me slowly, his movements predatory. I stand my ground, refusing to show fear even as my heart races.

“She barely reaches my chest,” Tharn observes. “The daughters of Ain were said to be like gods—females bigger than the males of our clan, bigger than any Drakav. While you…” He gestures at my slender form with something like disappointment. “You are small. Fragile.”

He stops in front of me, nostrils flaring as he leans in slightly. “Though there is…something.” Those golden pits fasten on me. “Something on you smells of Rok.”

I feel heat rush to my cheeks and see the moment he rears back at the sight. Of course—I’m probably covered in Rok’s scent after our activities in the cave. The thought is both embarrassing and oddly thrilling.

“She is my female,” Rok states, the possessiveness in his thoughts unmistakable. “We are returning to clan grounds. She has others like her. Those we must find.”

Tharn’s head snaps up at this. “Others? More…females from the stars? More females like her?”

“Yes,” I interject. “My sister and…many many others. They need our—your help.”

Tharn stares at me for a long moment, then turns to Rok. “Kol sent search parties when you did not return many sols ago. I was tracking your scent when I found you.” His gaze shifts back to me. “If there are indeed daughters of Ain fallen from the sky, he will want to know immediately.”

“Aye,” Rok nods and Tharn looks at him like he’s suddenly a strange thing he’s never seen before. I realize a little later it’s because of the nod itself. That’s something Rok learned from me.

“We will continue to clan grounds,” he projects to Tharn. “Lead the way.”

Tharn doesn’t respond. Casting one more suspicious glance at me, he turns to head across the sand.

Thank the gods for this new stamina. I manage to keep the pace as we walk, though I know both males are going considerably slower than they are capable of. As we go, I notice how Tharn keeps pace not too far ahead, frequently glancing back at me with unconcealed interest. There’s something in his gaze that makes me uneasy—not quite hostility, but a calculating intensity that has me instinctively moving closer to Rok.

“He doesn’t believe I’m female,” I whisper to Rok.

“He will,” Rok replies, his mental voice tinged with grim determination. “The clan has never seen beings like you. Their disbelief is natural.”

“What if they all react like Tharn? What if they attack before asking questions?”

Rok’s hand finds mine, his fingers intertwining with mine in a gesture so human it makes my throat tight. “I will not let them harm you.”

The promise is simple, but loaded with meaning. I glance up at him, finding his golden eyes already on me, filled with that same fierce protectiveness I’m coming to recognize.

After about an hour of trekking through increasingly rocky terrain, Rok stops abruptly.

“We must move faster,” he says, turning to me. “The clan grounds are still distant, and the dark will come soon.”

Before I can respond, he sweeps me into his arms, cradling me against his chest.

“I will carry you,” he states, not a question but a declaration. “It will be faster.”

Tharn watches this exchange with narrowed eyes. “The female cannot keep pace?”

“She is not of the dust,” Rok snaps. “Her strength is different.”

Something flickers in Tharn’s eyes—confusion, disbelief, and something else I can’t quite identify. His gaze lingers on me for a moment too long, trailing over the way I’m nestled against Rok’s chest, the way Rok’s arms tighten around me possessively.

There’s yearning there. Deep and unmistakable.

It sends a chill down my spine. Not fear, exactly, but a sudden awareness that Rok might not be the only one of his kind who could form this strange bond with a human woman.

“We go,” Rok’s voice in my head is a growl, clearly noticing Tharn’s stare. Without waiting for a response, he launches into a run, his powerful legs eating up the distance with astonishing speed.