Page 123 of Rok's Captive
I take his hand, grateful for the escape from the intense scrutiny. My legs ache from sitting cross-legged for so long, and exhaustion weighs on me like a physical burden. The events of the day have left me completely drained.
Rok leads me through a narrow passage branching off from the main cavern. The tunnel winds deeper into the cliff face, occasionally opening into smaller chambers.
“Here,” Rok projects finally, gesturing to an opening in the stone wall.
He guides me into what is clearly his personal space—a modestly sized chamber carved into the living rock. The ceiling is low enough that he must duck slightly to enter, though there’s enough room for me to stand comfortably.
Rok watches my face as I take in his dwelling. His chest is puffed slightly, but as he follows my gaze, his expression shifts to uncertainty, then something like embarrassment.
“This is my chamber,” he explains. “I earned it when I became scout leader. Few have their own space.”
I can tell he’s seeing it through my eyes now, and finding it lacking. The chamber is Spartanly furnished—a pile of animal hides in one corner serves as bedding; various tools and weapons hang from pegs hammered into cracks in the stone; a small niche holds what appear to be personal items—a collection of unusual stones, a piece of metal that might be from a ship, and a few bone carvings.
Rok’s brow furrows as he scans the bare rock walls. “It is…not much,” he projects hesitantly. “Not worthy of a female.”
I reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s perfect,” I tell him, and I’m being honest.
Because at this moment, it is. It’s shelter, it’s safety, and most importantly, it’s away from dozens of curious eyes and probing minds. My legs feel ready to buckle beneath me, and my eyelids are growing heavier by the second.
Rok seems unconvinced by my assurance, his gaze still moving critically around the chamber. “Tomorrow I will make it better,” he decides. “More comfortable for you.”
“Tomorrow,” I agree, though in my mind, tomorrow holds more pressing concerns—finding the others, making sure they’re safe. The thought of Jacqui and the rest of the women alone in the wasteland sends a fresh spike of anxiety through me.
As if sensing my thoughts, Rok guides me to the pile of hides. “Rest now,” he projects gently. “We will find your people when Ain rises. That is my oath.”
I sink gratefully onto the surprisingly soft bedding, too exhausted to even remove my shoes. The hides smell of him. It’s oddly comforting.
“Sleep,” Rok projects, settling beside me, his body radiating warmth in the cool chamber. “I will keep watch.”
As consciousness begins to slip away, my last coherent thought is of tomorrow—of traveling through the desert, of facing unknown dangers, of the hope and fear warring within me.
But for now, in this moment, sheltered in a cave with an alien warrior who’s somehow become my protector, I feel something I’ve felt since only being in his presence.
I feel safe.
Chapter35
EXPLAINING HUMANS: MORE DIFFICULT THAN HUNTING SAND SERPENTS
ROK
The first light of Ain has barely touched the sky when Tharn appears at the entrance of my chamber.
It is unusual. Tharn does not come to rouse me—not since we were younglings. He knows I wake before the light, my senses sharp and ever-watchful. Yet here he is, his broad form casting a shadow in the dim morning light, his golden eyes narrowed with curiosity.
I do not need to ask why. I know.
Jus-teen rests beside me, her small form curled in the pile of hides. Her pale skin glows faintly in the soft light creeping into the chamber, her loose mane spilling across the bedding like threads of Ain’s own radiance. She is extraordinary. Even now, I can feel Tharn’s mind brushing against mine, full of questions he does not yet push into my mindspace.
“She still rests,” Tharn projects, his mental tone laced with amusement.
“She needs rest,” I reply, my voice equally soft in his mind.
Tharn tilts his head, his focus shifting to her with unhidden curiosity. “I have never seen one rest so deeply. Does she not sense the light or the movement?”
“She is not Drakav,” I remind him, annoyance flickering through my thoughts. “Her body does not respond as ours do.”
I can sense he understands, but he still does not leave. Instead, he steps farther into the chamber, his gaze lingering on Jus-teen. I feel a low growl building in my chest, but I suppress it. Tharn means no harm. He is curious, as are all my brothers. They have never seen a female before, let alone one like her.
