Page 21 of Rok’s Captive (Barbarians of the Dust #1)

THE DUST PROVIDES. (SOMETIMES)

ROK

T he dust is silent now, but I do not trust it.

The hunters are close. Too close.

I hold still, my body pressed against the stone, my skin blending seamlessly with the rock face. The female is curled against me, her breaths shallow, her body trembling ever so slightly in my arms. I can feel her confusion, her fear—emotions that radiate from her like heat waves rising from the dunes.

But she does not make a sound. She trusts me to keep her safe, even if she does not realize it yet.

I cannot fail her.

Above us, more hunters move with the precision of a stalking shadowmaw, their footsteps light but deliberate. I can feel the vibrations through the stone, each one a reminder of the danger we are in. They are searching, their senses sharp and attuned to the smallest disturbance. Their presence is wrong here—out of place.

This is not their territory.

Their scent is unfamiliar, but the markings on their skin… Those, I recognize. The rival clan. One that roams the dust, taking what they need from those too weak to defend it. They are drifters, scavengers, raiders. And they are deadly.

The one on the ridge—bronze-skinned, his hair like copper fire—turns his head, scanning the horizon with eyes fierce like a beast. His nostrils flare, scenting the air, and for a moment, I am certain he has found us.

I shift my grip on Jus-teen, pulling her closer against me, shielding her entirely with my body. Her soft form presses against my chest and I am once again reminded that she is so small. So fragile.

The thought sends a surge of protectiveness through me, so fierce it borders on pain. I clench my jaw, forcing myself to stay still, to focus. If they find us, I will not survive this fight. Not in my current state. Not with her to protect.

I close my eyes, drawing in a measured breath. The scent of her fills my senses—sweet and strange, not found anywhere else on Xiraxis. It grounds me, sharpens my thoughts. The hunters may be stronger, faster, and uninjured, but I have something they do not.

A purpose.

I will not let them take her.

The vibrations of their footsteps grow fainter. They are moving away, their search carrying them farther along the ridge. I do not relax. Not yet. The dust is patient, and so am I.

Jus-teen shifts slightly in my arms, her head tilting as if trying to see past me. I tighten my hold on her, a silent command to stay still. She freezes, her small hands gripping my chest.

Good. She understands.

The hunters remain in view for several more moments before they disappear over the far side of the ridge. I wait, counting beats of my dra-kir, my claws flexing against the stone. One hundred beats. Then two hundred. Only when I am certain they are gone do I allow myself to exhale.

“ Safe ,” I push toward her.

Jus-teen looks up at me, her blue eyes wide and filled with questions. She speaks, her voice soft and hesitant, but the meaning is lost to me.

I wish I could answer her. I wish I could tell her what the hunters are, why they are here, why they cannot find us. But the words will not come. My tongue is clumsy, my throat unpracticed in shaping sounds. Either way, I do not believe she would understand. And I…I have destroyed her chance to communicate.

Instead, I set her down and gesture for her to stay low, pressing my hand flat against the rock to emphasize the need for caution. Her brow furrows, but she presses her chin to her chest twice before following my lead as I begin to move.

The shadows are our ally now. Ain is low in the sky, her light dimming and the stone formations casting long, jagged shadows across the dust. I keep to them, my movements slow, my senses alert for any sign of the hunters’ return.

Jus-teen stays close behind me, her footsteps light but clumsy compared to mine. She is untrained, her movements unrefined, but she is quiet. Her instincts are good.

We reach the base of the ridge, where the shadows are deepest, and I pause to scan the terrain ahead. The dust stretches endlessly before us, broken only by the distant rise of another stone formation. It is far, but that is where we are headed. We cannot stay here.

I turn to Jus-teen and incline my head toward the formation in the distance. Her gaze follows, and I can see the exhaustion in her posture. The strain in her movements. She is not built for this.

I will carry her.

I crouch before her, gesturing for her to climb onto my back. She hesitates, her expression uncertain, but then she steps forward, wrapping her arms around my neck as I rise to my full height, securing her legs with my hands.

Her weight is nothing to me, even in my weakened state. She clings to me, her cheek pressed against my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck. Something about the sensation sends a strange flutter through my chest, different from the pain of separation I felt earlier. This is…pleasant.

I move swiftly now, keeping to the shadows before we’re in the open dust, my strides eating up the distance between us and the distant formation. Jus-teen remains silent, her grip firm but not restrictive, trusting me to carry her safely.

But as the journey continues, I can feel Jus-teen’s discomfort in the way she shifts against me, seeking relief even from Ain’s dying gaze. She was not made for the dust, for this harsh, unforgiving landscape.

But I was. And I will be her shield.

We reach the new formation when Ain has almost completed her descent. This structure is different from the one we left—taller, more jagged, with deeper crevices carved by wind and time. Perfect for hiding.

I scan the perimeter, searching for any sign of the hunters or other predators. Nothing. The dust is still.

For now.

Setting Jus-teen down in the shade, I gesture for her to wait as I assess our temporary sanctuary. She does that movement with her head—the quick lowering of her chin that I’ve come to recognize as agreement—before she sinks to the ground, her back against the stone.

The entrance narrows quickly, forcing even smaller Drakav to turn sideways. A natural defense I’ve relied on before. Beyond lies the main chamber with its high ceiling where sound travels strangely, echoing in ways that confuse those unfamiliar with its patterns. Then the passage to the left that leads to the small sleeping chamber, and the one to the right that descends sharply to what I seek.

I move through the familiar passages with practiced silence, confirming nothing has changed since I last took shelter here during the great dust storms two seasons past. No signs of recent visitors. No disturbance of the stone dust that accumulates near the unused chambers. Good.

I make my way to the hidden heart of the formation—a chamber accessible only through a crevice that requires turning one’s body at an awkward angle to pass through. Inside, the air grows noticeably cooler, the temperature dropping to a comfortable chill that will help ease Jus-teen’s discomfort.

And there, in the center of the chamber, is the greatest treasure this formation holds: the sacred pool. Not large—perhaps the span of three bodies across—but deep and clear, the water clean and pure, reflecting the stone ceiling above like a mirror. Fed by underground springs that run beneath the desert, it remains even during the most terrible droughts.

Water. Life. Healing.

The sight fills me with relief. This is what Jus-teen needs most now—cool water to drink and soothe her burning skin. Perhaps its properties will help slow whatever poison has taken hold in her foreign body once more.

I return to Jus-teen quickly, finding her where I left her, though her eyes are closed now, her breathing shallow. When I approach, she startles, then relaxes upon seeing me.

I gesture for her to follow, and she rises slowly, her movements stiff and pained. The journey has taken its toll on her already weakened body.

Without thinking, I sweep her into my arms once more, cradling her against my chest. She makes a small sound of surprise but does not protest. Instead, she rests her head against my shoulder, her eyes drifting closed again.

The passage to the hidden chamber is narrow, requiring me to turn sideways with her in my arms at points, but I navigate it carefully, protecting her from the jagged edges of stone. When we emerge into the chamber, her eyes open, widening at the sight of the water.

“Water,” she whispers.

“Wah-ter,” I mumble, forcing my throat to work. Her gaze flies to mine and she bares her teeth at me in delight. I bare my teeth back. I have made her happy. This is good.

I set her down gently at the edge of the pool, and she reaches out, trailing her fingers through the clear liquid with a reverence I understand all too well. Water is life in the dust. Water is everything.

I crouch beside her, cupping my hands to gather some of the precious liquid, then offer it to her. She looks at me, then at the water in my palms, before leaning forward to drink from my hands. The trust in this simple act sends another of those strange flutters through my chest.

She drinks deeply, her eyes closing in pleasure, and I find myself watching the movement of her throat, the curve of her neck, the way her lashes rest against her cheeks. She is unlike anything I have ever seen before—alien, yes, but also…beautiful, in a way I cannot fully comprehend.

When she has drunk her fill, she sits back, exhaling deeply, some of the tension leaving her body. “Thank you,” she says.

Gratitude perhaps. Or maybe she is saying she simply wishes to rest now.

I do her chin jerk motion then gesture to the pool and back to her, hoping she understands my meaning: Rest. Drink. I will return.

Her brow furrows, and I see the question in her eyes: Where are you going?

I mime hunting, making a gesture with my claws that I hope conveys the concept of bringing back food. Her expression clears, and she chin jerks again, though there is uncertainty in her eyes.

I hesitate. The chamber is safe, hidden, defensible. She will be protected here. But the thought of leaving her, even for a short time, sends a twist of discomfort through me.

Yet I must. She needs nourishment beyond what the fire blooms can provide, and the creatures that make their homes near these rocks will sustain us both.

With a final glance at her, I turn and make my way back through the passage, emerging once more into the harsh light of late afternoon.

The pain begins the moment I step away from the formation.

It is different this time—not the sharp, pulling sensation I felt in the cave, but a spreading warmth that builds in intensity with each step I take. Like fire in my veins, flowing outward from my chest to every extremity.

I press on, fighting against it, determined to fulfill my purpose. The dust is alive with small life for those who know where to look—creatures that burrow beneath the dust, serpents that bask on the rocks, and larger prey I will not hunt this sol.

I focus on the hunt, on the familiar rhythm of tracking, stalking, capturing. But the pain persists, growing stronger, more insistent. It is not debilitating, not yet, but it is…distracting. Each successful capture is followed by an overwhelming urge to return to the formation, to Jus-teen.

I resist, gathering more prey than I initially intended, as if to justify the time spent away from her. By the time Ain touches the horizon, painting the dust in shades of amber and gold, I have enough to sustain us for at least two sols.

The return journey is swift, driven by the increasing discomfort in my chest. It is not pain, exactly, but a burning need, a compulsion that grows stronger with each beat of my dra-kir.

I reach the formation just as the first lights appear in the darkening sky, slipping through the narrow passages with ease despite my burden of fresh-caught prey.

As I approach the chamber, I slow, sensing a change in the air—a shift in humidity, the gentle sound of movement in water. I pause at the entrance, my free hand resting against the cool stone.

Jus-teen is in the pool.

She floats on her back, eyes closed, her strange coverings set aside on the stone edge. The water embraces her, supporting her in a way that seems to ease her pain. Even from here, I can see the tension has left her body, replaced by a calm serenity I have not witnessed since we met.

She is…revealed. Completely. Exposed in a way I have not seen before.

Water sluices down the mounds on her chest, her hips, the dark curls between her thighs. My mouth waters. Within my pouch, my stem jerks so hard it hurts. If I touched her now, I would ruin her. If I tasted her, I would forget mercy.

I should turn away. Should retreat to allow her privacy.

I do none of these things.

Instead, I watch, transfixed, as she moves through the water with slow movements, careful not to splash, to waste a single precious drop. Her skin gleams in the fading light that filters through cracks in the ceiling, droplets clinging to her like tiny stars.

I have always thought water was the most beautiful thing in the dust—clear, vital, sacred. But I was wrong.

It is her.

The hunt slips from my grasp, forgotten, as I step forward. The sound alerts her, and she turns, startled, her eyes finding mine across the chamber.

She does not scream. Does not try to hide. Instead, she watches me with those impossibly blue eyes, her chin lifted slightly, a challenge or an invitation—I cannot tell which.

I move closer, crouching at the edge of the pool, my gaze never leaving hers. Beautiful. She is…beautiful. The water on her. I have never seen a sight more entrancing.

Her eyes lock with mine—steady, unflinching. There’s a challenge there, a daring glint that holds me captive.

I draw in a breath, catching her scent—clean water, and something uniquely hers. Something wild. It stirs a beast deep inside me, a pull I can’t fight, even if I wanted to.

“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.