Page 138 of Rok's Captive
I huddle in the shallow cave that has been my shelter for the past two nights, squinting at the figure moving across the sand below. Tall. Impossibly strong-looking. Golden-bronze skin that catches the last rays of the setting sun.
Not human.
I press myself deeper into the shadows, my heart hammering against my ribs. After weeks alone in this desert, I’ve finally cracked. I’m seeing things. Have to be.
The figure stops, crouching to examine something on the ground. My tracks, probably. I’d been careful, but not careful enough. Not that it matters if this is just a hallucination.
But hallucinations don’t kick up sand as they walk. They don’t cast shadows. They don’t pause, head tilting as if scenting the air.
My breath catches as the figure’s head suddenly snaps up, golden eyes somehow finding mine despite the distance and shadows. Our gazes lock, and for a moment, time seems to suspend.
He’s real.
I scramble backward, deeper into the cave, my hand automatically reaching for the makeshift weapon Mikaela had fashioned. Not that it will do much good against…whatever that is.
My mind races through possibilities. Another species dropped here by the Xyma? Natives? Somehow, the latter feels worse.
How happy would some barbarian be to find some tourist hanging out at his favorite lookout spot? Shit.
The smart move is to stay hidden, to wait until this creature moves on. But something about those eyes…there had been intelligence there. Awareness. And something else I don’t want to pinpoint too clearly.
A sound outside—the soft slide of sand as something approaches the cave entrance. My fingers tighten around my weapon.
The creature appears in the entrance, his massive form blocking what little light remains. He makes no move to enter, simply stands there, watching me with those unsettling golden eyes.
My fingers tighten around the jagged metal in my grip—a piece torn from the bus wrapped in worn fabric. If this is a hallucination, it’s the most detailed one yet—right down to the way the sand shifts under his feet. But hallucinations don’t sniff the air so boldly I can sense the way it shifts. And they sure as hell don’t look at me like they can see straight into my soul.
I don’t wait for him to make the first move. Survival instinct takes over—I lunge forward, swinging my makeshift weapon with all the strength my exhausted body can muster.
He doesn’t even flinch.
My weapon connects with his arm and bounces off like I’ve hit solid rock. He moves then, faster than anything his size should be capable of, catching my wrist in a grip that’s firm but not crushing.
I thrash wildly, kicking, scratching, biting—using every dirty trick I’ve ever learned. He restrains me with insulting ease, eventually pinning me to the cave floor with my arms above my head, his weight carefully distributed so I can’t move but can still breathe.
“Get off me!” I scream, knowing it’s useless but unable to stop fighting. “Let me go!”
There’s a grunt in his throat, a wince as he turns his head away from me, brow furrowed, as if I hurt him somehow. But he makes no other sound. Just watches me with those strange eyes, his expression unreadable. I’m about to scream again when something impossible happens.
Where his skin touches mine, light blooms.
It’s subtle at first—a faint golden glow that pulses between us where his hands—no, fuck, those aren’t just hands, they’re claws—grip my wrists. Then it intensifies, spreading up his arms like liquid fire, not burning but warming, illuminating the cave with an otherworldly radiance.
He jerks back as if burned, releasing me and stumbling to his feet. His hand goes to his chest, clutching at it, his expression one of shock and something that looks strangely like pain. A low, guttural sound escapes him. Clearly distressed.
I scramble backward, too stunned to run. What just happened? What was that light? Why did he react that way?
As he recovers, something catches my eye—a small object that’s fallen from him during our struggle. Something that glints in the fading light, familiar and impossible.
A butterfly earring. Golden and pink crystal.Justine’searring. The twin to the one currently burning a hole against my breastbone. Tucked away safe in my bra since the day I found it buried in the sand at that rock formation she was supposed to be, but never was.
The alien notices my gaze. Slowly, he retrieves the earring and places it on the ground between us. Not keeping it. Offering it.
My mind races with possibilities. He’s killed her and taken it as a trophy. No—why would he come find me then? He’s found her body. No—he wouldn’t look so purposeful, so intent.
She’s alive. Somehow, my sister is alive, and this creature knows where she is.
“Justine?” I whisper, my voice breaking on her name. “Is she alive?”
