Page 36 of Rok's Captive
He doesn’t look at me. His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a series of deep, shuddering breaths, his hands flexing at his sides. He looks like he’s fighting something—like he’s barely holding himself together. And the light underneath his skin, it flickers. Wildly. Stars. So many stars. All going on and off at once.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I rasp. My voice trembles and I hate it.
When he turns back to me, there’s something feral in his movement—a wild sort of grace that makes my heart slam against my ribs. He stalks toward me, and I press myself harder against the stone, certain he’s about to…but instead, he reaches down beside me, retrieving a broad leaf I hadn’t noticed before, braced carefully against the rock.
A cool drop of water lands on my chest.
I gasp at the shock of it.
Water.
“You brought water?” My voice is little more than a croak, but the words seem to register. His jaw clenches and he simply stares into my soul the same way he was before. That deep, probing gaze that makes me feel like he’s trying to push thoughts directly into my mind. As if he could make me understand whatever he’s thinking through sheer force of will alone.
His chest heaves with every breath as he reaches for me, slipping an arm beneath my shoulders and lifting me slightly. All the while, that storm of light erupts under his skin, worse now that he’s close again—as if being close to me is setting off some kind of virus in him. The movement presses my body against his, and I gasp.
His temperature has changed. While my skin flares with heat, his is cool.
The contrast is shocking—his skin feels like smooth stone left in the shade, soothing against the fever burning beneath my own. The chill of him seeps into me, chasing away the dizziness for one fleeting moment, and I can’t stop the involuntary sigh that escapes my lips.
He brings the leaf to my lips, and I drink greedily, the water cool and impossibly sweet. It’s nothing like the stale, chemical taste of the emergency rations. Nothing like water back home, either. This is pure—perfect. Sent from the fountain of the gods.
“More,” I whisper.
Before I know it, the last few drops disappear down my throat.
“Fuck.”
The alien’s eyes narrow slightly, his gaze flicking to my fevered body before he presses his palm against my forehead. His cool touch is electric, and my body reacts before I can stop it, a small sound of relief escaping my lips.
His expression shifts at the sound—something dark flickering across his face.
Then, just like that, he’s gone again, moving toward the cave entrance with that strange, fluid grace.
“Wait…” I manage. “Don’t leave me. Please.”
But he doesn’t leave. Instead, he gathers something from outside the cave—smooth stones, arranging them in a circle on the ground at my feet.
For a moment, my thoughts drift back to the transport. To Jacqui waiting for me, probably pacing and snapping at anyone who tells her to calm down. To Erika, meticulously rationing supplies, marking off how many hours I’ve been gone. To the others, watching the horizon for my return with dwindling hope. The guilt is almost as hot as the fever. I promised I’d come back with answers, with help. Instead, I’m dying in a cave with a creature I can’t even communicate with.
The fever pulls me under again, my mind fogging as I collapse against the rock at my back. His scent wraps around me. It’s earthy and metallic, like sun-baked stone, and my back arches instinctively. My nipples tighten to painful points, rubbing against my bra with every ragged breath. I should be terrified. I should be fighting. Instead, my hips rock faintly, seeking friction where there is none. Consciousness fades in and out. But one thought lingers, clear and sharp through the haze.
What the fuck is happening to him?
What the fuck is happening tome?
Chapter10
CONFUSED DOESN’T START TO EXPLAIN IT AT ALL
ROK
The air in the cave is heavy.
It clings to my skin, thick as the heat waves that roll off the dunes in the dry season, but this heat does not belong to the dust. It belongs to her.
The creature lies before me, trembling, fragile form pressed to the stone. Her breathing is erratic—too fast, too shallow—and the fire burning beneath her skin has not abated. Despite the water I brought her, despite the cooling stones, she remains on the edge of collapse.
And I am on the edge of madness.
