Page 39 of Rok's Captive
JUSTINE
Warmth.
That’s the first thing I register as consciousness seeps back into my brain. Not the burning, feverish heat that had consumed me, but something else—something almost pleasant. A solid warmth against my side, cradling me like a cocoon.
My eyes flutter open, vision still blurry with sleep. Golden light fills the small cave, casting long shadows across the stone floor. It takes me a moment to realize that the light isn’t just coming from the sun—it’s also emanating from whatever I’m pressed against.
Then I feel it. The rhythmic rise and fall beneath my cheek. The solid mass of…something…I’m curled against.
Someone.
The memory of last night crashes back—the fever, the delirium, the alien—and I jerk upright so fast my vision swims.
“Holy shit!”
The alien—he’s sitting propped against the cave wall, and I’m in hislap. I was sleeping in his freaking lap, my head on his chest like he’s my personal body pillow. And he’s just…staring at me, those golden eyes unblinking, his skin glowing softly in the early morning light.
I scramble backward, stumbling and rolling in my haste to put some distance between us. My body lands on stone, the sensation of them shooting through me, and that’s when another realization hits me.
I’m still in my underwear. In myunderwear, in an alien’s lap.
“What the actual fuck,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest, suddenly hyperaware of how exposed I am. “What…how…I mean…” I gesture vaguely between us, as if that explains anything.
He just watches me, head tilted slightly to one side, that same inscrutable expression on his face. The markings on his skin pulse gently. With the light streaming in, it’s even more riveting.
“I was dying,” I say, more to myself than to him. “I was literally burning up. And now I’m…fine?” I press a hand to my forehead. No fever. Not even a hint of it. It’s like it never happened. “That’s not how heat exhaustion works. That’s not how anything works.”
I look around the cave, trying to piece together what happened after I passed out. The smooth stones are still arranged in a circle where he placed them. My clothes are scattered across the floor where I’d discarded them in my fever-induced delirium.
“Did you…take care of me all night?” I ask, knowing he can’t understand me but needing to fill the silence anyway.
He rises to his feet in one fluid motion, and I’m struck again by how large he is—towering over me, all lean muscle and strange, alien grace. He crosses the cave in one stride, crouching in front of me, close enough that I can feel the coolness flowing off his skin. I honestly swore his skin was hot, warm at least, yesterday.
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to back away again. “Look, uh, thank you. For whatever you did. I was in pretty bad shape, and I…well, I’m clearly better now, so…thanks for the alien nursing service, I guess?”
His eyes narrow slightly, scanning my face with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. Then, slowly, he reaches out, one clawed finger hovering near my temple.
I freeze, breath catching in my throat. The claw gently brushes a strand of hair from my face, the touch so delicate it barely registers.
“Okay,” I whisper, and I hate how breathy my voice sounds. “So that’s…that’s a thing that’s happening.”
The blazing sun streams in through the cave entrance, reminding me that time is passing. Jacqui and the others must be worried sick by now. I need to get back to them, explain what happened, figure out our next move.
“I’ve got to go,” I say, gesturing toward the cave entrance. “People waiting for me. Probably thinking I’m dead in a ditch. Or whatever the alien desert equivalent of a ditch is.”
I move to stand, and he rises with me, his massive form blocking the sunlight, casting me in shadow. For a moment, I think he’s going to stop me, but he just stands there, watching with that same unreadable expression.
“Right. Clothes first.” I spot my discarded outfit and make my way toward it, painfully aware of his eyes on me the entire time. “Don’t suppose you have any privacy curtains in this five-star desert accommodation?”
I reach for my blouse, trying to ignore the way my cheeks heat up. It’s ridiculous to be embarrassed—he’s already seen me in my underwear all night. Hell, he was holding me in my underwear all night. But something about being conscious for it makes it a thousand times more awkward.
As I grab my blouse, flashes of memory surface—his arms around me, the solid strength of his chest beneath my cheek, the strange, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. Or whatever alien equivalent of a heart he has.
The memory sends a shiver down my spine, and I quickly look away, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through my belly. That’s not supposed to be happening. Not now. Not to him.
I feel my face grow hotter, and I duck my head, hoping he can’t see the fact I’m blushing, or that if he does, he won’t know why I’m turning red.
No such luck.
