Page 89 of Rok's Captive
The thought is fleeting, like a ripple across the still water, and for a moment, I think I’ve imagined it. But then another comes, clearer this time.
“What if I did this to him?”
It’s Jus-teen.
I can hear her.
In the mindspace.
I can hear her directly.
The barrier between our minds has thinned, becoming so fragile it’s nearly transparent. For a moment, I am distracted from the pain.
Her thoughts come in fragments, disjointed yet vivid, each one cutting through the chaos like a blade.
“I need to…him to cool down. His skin…burning up.”
“Stupid Xyma water. Stupid Xyma themselves.”
“What am I going to do if…doesn’t recover, huh? What the fuck are…going to do, Justine?”
Humor rises inside me. Her thoughts are just as many as her vocalizations. A constant stream of commentary.
I hold them close to mydra-kiras the darkness takes me.
For solmarks more, the fire rages.
Time passes. Jus-teen remains by my side, sometimes speaking, sometimes silent, but always touching me in some way—a hand on my arm, fingers brushing my face, her shoulder pressed against mine. Each contact soothes the fire within me, brings me closer to some equilibrium I cannot name.
When exhaustion finally claims her, she curls up beside me, her body a warm, steady presence against my side, her head resting on my shoulder. Her breathing deepens, evens out, and I know when she succumbs to rest.
I watch her, marveling at the trust this small, fragile being places in me. Even after witnessing my transformation, even knowing what I am capable of, she rests beside me without fear.
The thought fills me with a protectiveness so fierce it borders on violence. I would tear apart anything that threatened her, would face down the rival clan and shadowmaws and the dust itself to keep her safe.
Perhaps it’s the thought. For, without warning, the fire within me surges again—different this time, focused, concentrated in a way it wasn’t before. The heat pools in my gut, then lower, in the pouch that houses my member, and panic flares alongside it.
No. Not this. Not now.
But my body responds to some call I cannot resist, some transformation that has been building since I first tasted her essence. No…since I firsttouchedher. My member, normally sleeping within its protective pouch, begins to swell, to change, to push outward.
The pain is excruciating—not like the burn of the transformation, but sharper, more localized. I bite back a cry, not wanting to wake Justine, but the agony of it tears through me like a dust-stalker’s claw.
It feels as though my member is being reshaped, remolded—which is impossible. The sensation is wrong, terrifying. But it is true.
My claws dig into the stone as I brace against the pain, a surprised grunt going through me as I see myself emerge. It breaks free of the protective pouch, the pouch itself reshaping as it escapes, fully extended for the first time in my life. I stare down at it in shock and confusion.
This is…not what I expected.
My stem…it has changed—transformed as completely as the rest of me. It is larger, thicker, the dark skin shot through with the same starlight that flows beneath the rest of my skin. The shape is different too—no longer the simple rod I emerged from the Giving Stone with, but something more complex, curved slightly, with a broad head and ridges along the underside.
And beneath it, where there was once only smooth skin, hang two heavy sacs, tight and full, their purpose a mystery to me.
My breath comes in harsh pants as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing, of what I’m feeling. The fire has localized here, concentrated in these new appendages, and the sensation is…intense. Not pain, not pleasure, but something in between, something that makes my claws flex against the stone and a growl rumble in my throat.
The movement, the sound, is enough to wake Jus-teen. She stirs against me, her eyes fluttering open, still heavy with sleep. For a moment, she seems disoriented, confused by the starlight emanating from my skin. Then her gaze drops to my lap, to the transformed member jutting proudly from between my thighs, and her eyes widen, all traces of sleep vanishing in an instant.
“Oh,” she whispers, the sound barely audible even to my enhanced hearing. “Well, that’s…made an appearance.”
