Page 98 of Rok's Captive
The projections were vivid, unguarded, pouring into the mindspace between us like a flood. I could feel her softness, taste her on my tongue again, hear the sounds she would make as I claimed her.
My claw moved faster, gripping tighter, the pleasure building until it consumed me completely. When the release came, it was unlike anything I’d ever known—a pulse of wetness spilling over my claw, my body trembling with the force of it.
For the first time in my existence, my body wasted water, and I was too far gone to care about it.
But the relief was temporary. By dawn, the tension had returned, sharper than before, the need building like pressure in a dust geyser.
I cannot allow myself to lose control again, not while she depends on me for protection.
* * *
Ain isat her highest when I notice Jus-teen faltering.
She has fallen behind me, her steps slow and uneven, her breathing labored. The red tint spreading across her exposed skin concerns me—it is the warning sign I have come to recognize as her body struggling with Ain’s heat.
I stop and move back to her side, assessing her condition. The gourd is nearly empty. Even though she has already consumed what would have served me and five of my brothers for sols, I know that for her needs, she has been conserving it well. But the journey is taxing her small form more than I anticipated.
“Rest,” I project, as I gesture to a shaded alcove beneath a nearby ridge.
She hesitates, her brow furrowing as if to argue, but when I press my forehead to hers, the thought passes between us clearly.
“Rest. You cannot continue like this.”
She releases a breath, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. But only for a little while.”
I steady her as she moves toward the shade, my hand brushing against her arm. Even that brief contact sends a surge of heat through me, and I release her quickly, retreating a step to regain control. Her scent lingers in the air, warm and sweet, mingling with the heat of the dust, and the tension beneath my skin coils tighter as I fight the urge to touch her again, to press my forehead to hers and feel the flood of her thoughts.
She leans against the rock, her breathing slowing as her body relaxes.
We rest through the height of Ain’s passage, when the dust is hottest and most treacherous. Jus-teen dozes, her back against the stone, while I keep watch for dangers. Shadow stalkers rarely hunt during peak light, but small serpents emerge from their burrows to warm themselves, and rival clan scouts sometimes use this time to traverse open territory, knowing few predators will challenge them.
When Ain begins her descent, we resume our journey. Jus-teen moves more slowly now, her stride shortened. She does not complain, but I can see the toll the journey is taking on her.
By the third solmark, I make a decision.
“Jus-teen,” I say, moving to stand before her. I crouch, indicating my back, then mime lifting something.
Her brows furrow in what looks like confusion, but then her expression clears.
“Oh no,” she says, shaking her head. “I can walk.”
Her protest is weak, unconvincing. I make the gesture again, more insistent this time, and after a moment, she relents with a small nod.
Carefully, I lift her onto my back, her arms wrapping around my neck, her legs encircling my waist. The position brings her body flush against mine, her softness pressing into my hardness in a way that makes my stem throb painfully.
I nearly stumble at the sensation, momentarily blinded by the surge of heat that courses through me. But I steady myself, focusing on the path ahead rather than the feel of her against me.
Her breath is warm against my neck, her scent surrounding me, her small fingers occasionally brushing against my skin. Each touch is a spark to the fire already burning within me.
It is both relief and torture, carrying her this way.
By the time we reach the second shelter, I am nearly crazed with need.
The constant pressure of her body against mine, the soft sounds she makes when the terrain jostles us, the heat of her skin seeping into mine—it all combines into a torment I can barely endure.
I set her down carefully at the cave entrance, forcing myself to release her even as my claws linger at her waist.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice soft, paired with a small baring of her teeth that makes my chest tighten.
