Rok tolerates these approaches, but barely. His muscles remain tense, his breathing controlled. When a particularly bold clan member lingers too long, Rok’s mental voice snaps out a warning that has the offender retreating hastily.

“Your protector is most vigilant,” Kol observes after the fifth such incident, his thoughts tinged with something that might be amusement.

“He’s always been protective,” I reply, accepting a water gourd from a young male who immediately backs away from Rok’s glare.

“No,” Kol corrects, his face thoughtful. “This is different. This is…” He seems to search for the right concept. “Claiming.”

Heat rises to my cheeks at the word, and Kol goes still at the visible change in my skin color. Several nearby clan members shift closer, fascinated by this new development.

“She changes color!” one thinks loudly enough for everyone to hear. “You have enraged her, dra-dam!”

Dra-dam? Leader, I suppose. Kol is leaning forward slightly, focus on my skin so intent, embarrassment makes me blush even harder.

“It’s called blushing,” I explain, taking care to remember to talk in my head while also wishing my face would cool. “It happens when humans are…embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” The concept seems to confuse them.

“Uncomfortable with attention,” I clarify. “Or when discussing certain topics.”

“Such as claiming,” Kol supplies.

My blush deepens. “Yes.”

“I do not understand,” Kol continues. It seems he’s genuinely puzzled and I realize something I never noticed before. He, Rok, Tharn, the Drakav in general, do not seem to hide their emotions like humans do. Their minds are open. Their intentions clear.

Something warm develops in my chest as my gaze shifts to Rok. His intentions have always been clear to me. I’ve never had to guess.

“Claiming is simple.” Kol projects, bringing me back to the present. “When a Drakav finds something useful in the dust—a tool, a water source, a hunting territory—he claims it for his use. It becomes his. Rok has claimed you as his useful thing.”

My eyes widen as I realize the misunderstanding. He’s talking about ownership, possession—not the intimate act my mind immediately jumped to. But it’s too late; the memory of Rok’s mouth between my thighs, his tongue exploring places no one has ever touched in so long, flashes vividly in my mind. The heat, the wetness, the way he drank from me as if dying of thirst⁠—

A collective gasp echoes through the cave, not audible but mental—a wave of shock and confusion that makes me realize, to my absolute horror, that I’ve just accidentally broadcast that explicit memory to the entire clan.

The silence that follows is deafening. Every pair of golden eyes is fixed on me, expressions ranging from stunned to bewildered to intensely curious. Across the fire, Tharn’s mouth has actually fallen open, a very human gesture of shock that would be comical under other circumstances.

Rok goes completely still beside me.

“What…was…that?” Kol finally asks, his mental voice careful, measured even, as if approaching something potentially dangerous.

I want to dissolve into the stone beneath me. Instead, I press my hands to my blazing face, unable to look at any of them.

“I’m sorry,” I manage to think. “I didn’t mean to show that. It was private.”

“That was…” Someone’s thoughts reach me, then stop, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Sharing water,” Rok supplies calmly, though I can feel his discomfort rippling beneath the surface. “It is natural. As natural as breathing.”

“Sharing water…from there?” Tharn asks incredulously, gesturing vaguely toward my lower body.

If possible, my face burns even hotter. I’m going to die of embarrassment right here in this cave, surrounded by confused alien males who’ve just gotten an unexpected glimpse of human sexuality.

“All females have water to share,” Rok states, but his gaze darts to me for confirmation. Oh fuck. What should I even say? Cheeks blazing, I nod. Rok’s shoulders straighten with even more confidence. “It is how bonds are strengthened.”

The clan members exchange glances, a buzz of confused mental whispers passing between them.

“This is…claiming?” Kol asks, clearly trying to reconcile this new information with his understanding of the word.

“No,” I hastily correct, the words coming from my lips. They all collectively wince. Shit. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and focus on saying everything in my head. “No. That’s…something else. Something private.”

“Private?” Kol does that thing again where I’m sure he’s turning the word over in his mind. They don’t…they don’t understand what I mean.

Pretty sure I’m digging myself a hole here.

“Private means it isn’t shared with others. Only those we trust the most.”

“I see,” Kol says, though it’s clear he doesn’t see at all. “Your species has strange customs, star-daughter.”

“Do all females allow this…water sharing?” Someone from the wider group projects directly at me. I don’t know who it is until they lean forward, tilting their head at me. But before I can answer, Rok’s growl fills my mind—a warning so potent I feel several of the gathered males recoil.

“My female’s water is mine alone,” he projects with unmistakable possessiveness. “As mine is hers.”

This declaration seems to make sense to the clan in a way the act itself didn’t. Territory, resources, possession—these are concepts they seem to understand well.

Kol raises a hand, silencing the murmurs that have broken out. “Enough,” he commands. “The customs of star-daughters are not our concern. What matters is finding the others. At first light.”

I’ve never been so grateful for a change of subject in my life. There’s a hum now, one of anticipation and curiosity. Thoughts tickling my brain like being in a big crowd at the county fair and hearing all the voices at once.

A clan member with particularly elaborate markings across his chest approaches, bearing what appears to be one of those freshly killed lizard creatures. He presents it to me with a gesture that seems almost ceremonial.

“For the female’s strength,” he projects, his mental voice carrying an undercurrent of excitement. “The dra-kir gives greatest power.”

I stare at the bloody offering. “Thank you,” I manage. Rok intervenes, taking the offering with a brief nod of acknowledgment.

“She requires food touched by flame,” he explains, then turns to pierce the small carcass with a sharpened bone, holding it over the fire.

The male tilts his head, confused.

The gathered clan watches this process with fascination. I hear their mental murmurs—wondering at my strange dietary needs, at Rok’s willingness to prepare food for me, at everything about this bizarre situation.

My gaze shifts to Rok. “Do you think they still believe I’m male like them?”

Rok’s warm gaze shifts to me, so very different from the cold glares he’s been sending his brothers. “No. If they thought you were a male from a rival clan, they would not be giving you offerings.”

Well, that’s a relief.

“Tell us of your world, star-daughter,” Kol projects, diverting attention from the cooking meat. “Why did you return to our dust?”

All eyes turn to me expectantly. I take a deep breath, considering how to explain Earth and the fact that I’m not this…mythical daughter of the sun they think I am.

“I come from a world called Earth,” I begin. “A planet—a…round ground in the sky—much like this one, but with more water. Our people have learned to travel among the stars, visiting other worlds to learn about them. But…we didn’t come here. I am not the daughter of Ain you revere so much. I am simply a human. I and all the others females who need your help.”

I take a deep breath, waiting for this revelation to come back and bite me in the ass. What’s worse, Kol’s face is unreadable. Even more than Rok’s. I can see why he’s the leader. Back on Earth, his poker game would be freaking marvelous.