Page 72 of Rok's Captive
“Rok,” she says, my name soft on her lips, but the sound of it strikes me like a thunderclap. I feel it in my chest, in my blood, a jolt that robs me of sense and reason.
I lean closer, too close. My balance shifts, my weight tipping forward as if I can’t bear the distance between us any longer.
The world tilts.
The cool shock of water engulfs me as I plunge into the pool, the heat of my skin extinguished in an instant. Everything is muffled—except for her laugh. Low, surprised, and undeniably amused.
I break the surface, gasping for air, my hair plastered to my face. She’s there, treading the water beside me, light in her eyes.
“You fell,” she says.
I reach for her, my hands finding her waist, steadying her as the water shifts around us. She is soft beneath my touch, yielding yet strong, a contradiction that fascinates me.
Her hands come to rest against my chest, directly over the place where that strange fire has burned since I left her. At her touch, it transforms, changing from pain to a different kind of heat—intense but pleasant, consuming but welcome.
She looks up at me, water clinging to her face, her lips parted slightly. I remember the sharing of water, the press of her mouth against mine, and suddenly I want nothing more than to experience that again.
I lean down, drawn by a force as inexorable as the pull of Ain’s light. She stiffens for just a moment, surprised perhaps by my boldness, but then she rises to meet me, her lips finding mine in a gesture that is becoming familiar yet remains thrillingly new.
The contact sends a surge through me, the glow beneath my skin brightening until it illuminates the water around us, casting everything in golden light. Her mouth moves against mine, teaching me this strange, intimate language, and I respond eagerly, learning with each passing moment.
This is more than sharing water. This is...connection. Understanding. A bridge across the vast gulf that separates our worlds.
When we finally part, both breathless, the look in her eyes tells me she feels it too—this inexplicable bond, this tether that binds us, that brings me pain when she is not near, that pulls us together across all barriers of language and species.
“Rok,” she whispers again, and in that single syllable, I hear everything I need to know.
The hunt can wait. The danger can wait. The dust and all its threats can wait.
For now, there is only this—her in my arms, her eyes reflecting my glow, her breath mingling with mine in the cool darkness of our sanctuary.
And for the first time since I found her in the dust, I feel truly, completely alive.
Chapter22
FIVE STARS. WOULD GET KIDNAPPED AGAIN (MAYBE)
JUSTINE
His hands find my waist in the water, strong and sure, and before I can process what’s happening, Rok lifts me. Water streams from my body, cascading back into the pool as he carries me to the edge and sets me down on the cool stone.
The contrast between the stone’s chill and my heated skin sends a shiver through me. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me—eyes luminous in the dim light, pupils dilated, focused on me with an intensity that steals my breath.
“Rok,” I whisper, suddenly aware of my nakedness, of my vulnerability. I should feel embarrassed, exposed. I should reach for my clothes.
I do none of those things.
Instead, I watch, mesmerized, as he pulls himself from the pool in one fluid motion, water sluicing off his golden skin. He crouches before me, his face inches from mine, studying me with that predatory focus that should terrify me but instead sends a thrill of anticipation through my body.
My headache is gone. Completely gone. As if it never existed. The water—there must be something in the water. The same way my fever disappeared when he brought me water before. But instead of relief, I feel…something else. A different kind of heat building inside me, a restlessness that makes me shift on the stone.
Oh no. Icannotbe getting horny.
Rok inches closer, his nostrils flaring slightly as if he’s catching my scent. His glow suddenly flares and pulses brighter in the dimness, highlighting the sharp angles of his face, the broad expanse of his chest. He reaches for me, one clawed hand hovering just above my shoulder, before he stops.
I should shift away. I should remember all the reasons why this is a terrible idea. I should?—
A lump forms in my throat. I swallow it down…and I don’t move.
