Page 128 of Rok's Captive
“Oh, thank God,” Pam beams. “Thank God!”
But the others don’t react the same.
“Helpus?” Mikaela repeats. “They look like they want to eat us.”
I glance over my shoulder to see several of the gathered Drakav snarling, fangs visible as they brace against the constant chatter that comes from my people. And I realise it must be like when I got overwhelmed by their mindspeak back in their cave. I give them a pleading look, hoping they’ll understand.
“No.” I shake my head. “They don’t eat…I mean, they hunt, but not… Look, they’re here to help. They saved my life.Hesaved my life.”
I turn toward Rok, extending my hand in invitation. “It’s okay,” I project to him. “Come closer. Slowly. No sudden movements.”
Rok hesitates, his gaze flicking between me and the cluster of women. I can feel his caution, his awareness of the fear radiating from the humans. But after a moment, he steps forward, his approach measured and non-threatening.
As he comes to stand beside me, I hear the collective intake of breath from the women. He towers over all of us, his golden eyes bright, his powerful frame casting a shadow over us.
“This is Rok,” I say, reaching out to take his hand in mine. The gesture feels both natural and significant. “He found me in the desert after I left to find help. He kept me alive. Protected me.”
I pause, suddenly aware that I’ve reached a moment of definition. What is Rok to me? What word can possibly encompass what we’ve become to each other in this short, intense time?
“He’s my…” I pause. The word forms in my mind before I’ve fully acknowledged it. But it’s…it’s true. “He’s my boyfr—.” The word seems oddly wrong. As if it’s lessening the gravity of our connection. “He’s my mate.”
The declaration sends a visible shock wave through the group of women. Mikaela’s jaw drops open, and Erika takes an involuntary step backward.
“Yourwhat?” Tina asks, eyes wide as they blink behind her glasses.
“Mate,” I repeat, more firmly this time, squeezing Rok’s hand. “We…bonded. Out there.” I gesture vaguely toward the vast expanse of desert. Oh god, what am I saying? I can hear how it sounds. But it’s the truth. And I’m not ashamed of it.
“You’ve been gone for like three weeks, Justine,” Mikaela says slowly, as if explaining something to a child. “And you’ve…mated…with an alien?”
When she puts it that way, it does sound insane. But nothing about my experience has been normal or expected. How can I explain the intensity of survival, the depth of connection that forms when someone saves your life, learns your mind, accepts you completely?
“It’s complicated,” I say finally. “But he and his clan are here to help us. They know this planet. They can help us survive.”
Rok’s thoughts brush against mine. “Tell them we mean no harm. We will protect them as I have protected you.”
I relay his message, watching as the women’s expressions shift between disbelief, fear, and cautious hope.
“The others,” I project to Rok. “They can come closer, too. Slowly.”
Rok turns, making a gesture to the waiting clan members. One by one, they begin to approach. Kol comes first, his face impassive but curious. Tharn follows, his gaze darting between the human women with barely contained fascination.
As they draw nearer, I notice something in the women’s reactions—beyond the fear and uncertainty, there’s a flicker of something else. A kind of stunned appreciation. For all their alienness, the Drakav are impressive—powerful, graceful, their eyes intelligent and observant.
“There are more of us inside,” Erika says, her practical nature reasserting itself. “Some are too weak to come out. We’ve been surviving on emergency rations and some of us figured out how to harvest water from the ship’s condensers. Mikaela even found some…uh…insects in the sand. We’ve been uh…” She swallows hard. “It’s been hard. Between the headaches and fevers and nightmares, we thought…we never thought this day would come.”
I pause. “Fevers and headaches…because of the heat and dehydration?”
Alex steps closer. “I think so.”
Mikaela shakes her head. “I think it’s something else entirely.” She folds her arms. “But we agree to disagree.”
I nod, suddenly noticing the gauntness in their faces, the way their clothes hang loosely on their frames. They’ve been barely surviving out here. And they’ve been having the same fever and headaches as I was.
It’s strange, but too much for us to unpack right now.
“The Drakav know where to find water,” I tell them. “They can help us gather food, too. We don’t have to struggle anymore.”
“That’s all good. If they can help us till the Xyma arrive, we can probably make it,” someone says. A sour feeling develops in the pit of my stomach. They’re still hoping the Xyma will come? As my case shifts across the group, I realize it’s not all of them that are hoping. Mikaela, for one, simply rolls her eyes when the woman speaks.
