Page 64 of Rok's Captive
And then, impossibly, I hear it—not with my ears, but somehow within my mind itself:
“I am…sorry.”
My eyes fly open. With tear-blurred vision, I search his face. His lips haven’t moved. There’s no way he could have spoken those words. And yet, I heard them as clearly as if he’d whispered them aloud.
I let out a shaky laugh, wiping at my tears. “And now I’m hallucinating again. Like the time I thought I heard you speaking to me. When I was trapped in the sand.”
But there’s something in his eyes, something deep, something unspoken, that makes me wonder if I imagined it after all.
For the first time, I feel like I’m really seeing him—not as an alien, not as a savior or a threat, but as a being with thoughts and feelings as complex as my own.
And…I understand something: we may never share words, but that doesn’t mean we can’t communicate.
I don’t know what possesses me to do it. Maybe it’s the pure emotion of the moment, or the vulnerability in his eyes, or just the desperate need to connect with someone—anyone—in this alien world.
Before I can overthink it, I lean forward the few inches separating us and press my lips against his.
Rok goes completely rigid, his entire body freezing as if struck by lightning. His lips are unlike anything I’ve ever felt before—warmer than human lips, with a texture like fine suede but firmer, more unyielding. For a terrible, suspended moment, I’m certain I’ve just made the worst possible mistake, violating some sacred taboo of his species.
Then, slowly, minutely, I feel his tension ease. His lips remain motionless, but the glow beneath his skin erupts into pulsing waves, illuminating the shadows around us with surges of golden light that match the pounding of my heart.
My lips move, my tongue licking at the seam of his lips, the taste of him sending a shiver through me. When Rok opens his mouth, a rumble vibrating in his chest, sudden awareness of what I’ve done comes crashing over me.
I pull away, cheeks no doubt flaming red. I can feel the heat.
What was I thinking? He’s an alien—an actual extraterrestrial being—and I just kissed him as if we’re in some ridiculous sci-fi romance.
I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady myself. “Okay,” I say quietly, desperate to move past the moment. “Okay. I’m still mad at you. I still think you had no right to do what you did. But…I get that you probably thought you were protecting me. From what, I have no idea, but I get that was your intention.”
His forehead remains against mine, but I can’t look at him. The knowledge of that intense stare alone has my cheeks flaming hotter.
“So let’s…try again,” I continue, straightening my spine and forcing him to pull back slightly. “We need to figure out how to communicate without the translator. I need to find my people, and you need to…well, I don’t know what you need. But I’m guessing you don’t want to stay in this cave forever, either.”
I gesture between us, then out toward the cave entrance, trying to convey the concept of leaving, of traveling together. His eyes follow my movements, only to come back to my lips.
“And next time,” I add, my voice firmer now, “before you destroy something of mine, maybe try asking first? I know you can’t exactly say ‘Hey, is that device dangerous?’ but there has to be a better way than just…smashing it.”
I mime crushing something in my hand, then shake my head emphatically. His head tilts, but this time the gesture doesn’t infuriate me. It just reminds me how much work we have ahead of us if we’re going to build any kind of understanding.
But maybe that’s not impossible. Maybe we can find a way to communicate that doesn’t rely on technology or shared language. After all, humans managed to communicate across language barriers for thousands of years before the invention of universal translators.
It won’t be easy. Nothing about this situation is easy. But as I look into Rok’s eyes and see the intelligence, the concern, the complexity there, I feel something I thought I’d lost: hope.
“Alright,” I say, sitting up straighter, wiping the last of my tears away with the back of my hand. “Let’s start over. My name is Justine Parker.” I touch my chest, then point to him. “You are Rok.”
Basic. Childish, even. But it’s a beginning.
And right now, that’s all I can ask for.
Chapter19
THAT WAS WEIRD. WANT TO DO IT AGAIN
ROK
She is in pain.
Not the obvious agony of a claw wound or the burning torture of shadowmaw venom, but something quieter, deeper, more insidious. I can see it in the way she winces when she opens her eyes, in how she presses her fingertips to her temples, in the tight lines around her mouth.
