Page 27 of Rok’s Captive (Barbarians of the Dust #1)

HELP ME, OBI-WAN KENOBI. YOU’RE MY ONLY HOPE (OF ESCAPING THIS SEXUAL TENSION)

JUSTINE

W e don’t leave the cave once night falls.

“ Too dangerous ,” Rok says—or rather, thinks at me, his forehead pressed briefly against mine. “ Predators hunt in darkness .”

I nod, pretending this makes perfect sense, like receiving telepathic warnings about alien predators is just part of my daily routine now. No big deal. Just another day on Planet Dust.

“Sure, sure,” I reply, as if we’re discussing whether to grab takeout or cook dinner. “Wouldn’t want to be someone’s midnight snack.”

The tension between us is thick enough to cut with a knife. Or one of those wicked claws of his. We’ve both been carefully avoiding discussing what happened earlier—his cosmic transformation, the stars beneath his skin, and especially that new…addition to his anatomy.

Which is now mercifully covered by my sacrificed pants legs, though the makeshift loincloth does little to disguise the impressive outline beneath.

Not that I’m looking. Much.

And Rok, Rok seems tense. Not tense like he was before when he was in pain. This is different. He’s watching me like a hawk, and the look in his eyes is making me feel all sorts of things. He ventures out briefly—just outside the cave entrance—to hunt, returning with more of those strange lizard creatures. He prepares them the same way as before, removing the dangerous parts and cooking them just enough to make the meat safe.

My observant alien even cooks mine a little longer, his nostrils flaring as if he thinks he’s doing a disservice, but he does it anyway.

It’s still a little rarer than I’d like, but I eat without complaint, too hungry to be fussy. The protein feels good, strengthening, and I know I’ll need my energy for tomorrow’s journey.

After eating, I deliberately position myself on the opposite side of the cave from Rok. It seems like the sensible thing to do, given…everything. Distance. That’s what we need. Distance and time to process whatever is happening between us.

Except I can’t sleep.

I lie on my side, facing the wall, acutely aware of every sound he makes across the chamber. The soft sounds of him moving. The steady rhythm of his breathing. The occasional low rumble that might be a sigh or might be something else entirely.

I can hear every slight shift when I hadn’t been able to before. Rok has always been so silent to me. Just another of those new skills I’ve developed, I guess.

When I finally give up and roll over, I find him watching me, his eyes reflecting the dim glow from the stones that are still burning. How? Alien magic, maybe.

He doesn’t look away when I catch him staring. If anything, his gaze intensifies, his lips parting slightly to reveal those sharp teeth in what’s his version of a smile.

Bastard.

It should be terrifying—those fangs, those predatory eyes—but somehow it just looks…rakish. Almost charming, in a dangerous, alien sort of way.

I notice something else, too. His skin, which has always emitted that warm, golden glow, is now completely dark. Not the star-filled darkness from earlier, just…normal. Like human skin, but with that strange amber-gold tone.

Is this new? Another change along with his newly acquired anatomy? Or is this how he’s always been? Able to control his luminosity at will.

There’s so much I don’t know about him. So much I can’t ask without pressing my forehead to his and entering that strange mental space where our thoughts intermingle.

I’m not ready for that. Not yet. Not with the memory of his transformation still so fresh, and certainly not with the current state of his…lower half.

I mean, where did it even come from? There’s no way he hid that thing in some lower cavity I didn’t notice. It’s just…too big!

After another hour of pretending to sleep while secretly watching him watch me, I give up and sit up.

“I need some water,” I announce to the darkness, not sure if he understands the words but needing to say something to break the silence.

I make my way to the pool, grateful for the cool, clear water that seems perpetually fresh, as if being constantly replenished from some underground source. I cup my hands and drink deeply, knowing how precious this liquid will be once we’re back in the desert tomorrow.

“Drink it all, Justine,” I mutter to myself. “Who knows when you’ll see water again once we’re out in the sand with only Bitch Sun for company.”

The thought of tomorrow’s journey makes my stomach clench with anxiety. Not just the physical challenges—the heat, the terrain, the dangers Rok warned me about—but the fact that I’ll be doing it with only half my pants.

“A miniskirt,” I say with a disbelieving laugh. “I’m going to trek across an alien desert in a makeshift miniskirt and heels. Because apparently, that’s where my life choices have led me.”

Still, it was worth it. The alternative—Rok walking around with his new appendage swinging free—was simply not an option. Not if I wanted to maintain any semblance of focus or dignity.

And yet, despite my best efforts, my mind keeps returning to the image of it. To him. To how that perfect, thick head would feel?—

“Nope,” I say aloud, splashing water on my face to cool my suddenly burning cheeks. “Not going there. Not thinking about alien anatomy. Absolutely not.”

Except…it wasn’t truly alien, was it? At least, not in the way I would have expected. It looked surprisingly…uh…attractive, if exceptionally well-proportioned. Almost as if designed specifically to appeal to human—to my —preferences.

Did this planet just custom-order a dick for me? What kind of five-star resort bullshit is this?

“Right,” I snort softly. “Because the universe conspired to create the perfect alien penis just for me. That makes total sense.”

The absurdity of it all hits me suddenly, and I have to stifle a hysterical laugh. Here I am, on God knows which planet, hiding in a cave with a golden-skinned, occasionally glowing alien, concerned about his newly manifested genitalia while we prepare to trek across a desert to find my sister and the others.

If I woke up tomorrow and discovered this had all been some elaborate fever dream while I was passed out on that bus, I’d be…relieved?

No. That’s not quite right. Confused, certainly. Bewildered, absolutely. But also, strangely…disappointed?

“You’re losing it, Justine,” I mutter, pushing myself up from the pool’s edge. “Complete mental breakdown imminent.”

I turn to head back to my designated sleeping area, but my eyes catch on Rok again. He’s sitting by the fire, his body angled so that the makeshift covering does little to hide the still-prominent outline beneath. How is he still…like that? Doesn’t he get uncomfortable?

Obviously, he could just…take care of it. I mean, I’m not a prude. Everyone does it. I certainly wouldn’t judge him for needing some relief after whatever transformation he went through.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he’s focused intently on something in his hands—a small, round object that looks vaguely like a miniature pumpkin. He’s using one of those sharp bone tools to carve into it, his movements precise and delicate despite his massive claws.

I’m so distracted by the unexpected sight that I don’t immediately notice when his attention shifts from his project to me. But when I do, the intensity of his gaze makes my breath catch.

Heat creeps up my neck and into my cheeks, and I look away quickly, suddenly very interested in a random spot on the cave wall.

But the damage is done. The thought is there, firmly lodged in my mind—Rok, alone in the darkness, those strong hands wrapped around himself, those starlit eyes closing in pleasure…

I shuffle awkwardly back to my spot, keeping my eyes firmly on the ground. The heat that started in my face has migrated lower, settling in my core like a banked ember, ready to flare at the slightest provocation.

This is worse than those dreams.

A pulse goes through my core, and I clench my thighs. No. I can’t—not here, not like this, with him watching. But my body doesn’t care. Every breath I take drags his scent deeper into my lungs, my muscles clenching around nothing. I squeeze my eyes shut. Was it the air? The water? Or just him?

I swallow hard, my nails biting into my palms. I need to touch him. Need him to touch me. Need?—

No.

This is ridiculous. I’ve never been this sexually frustrated in my life. Not even during that four-year dry spell after breaking up with my ex. Not even during the pandemic lockdowns.

It has to be this planet. The air, maybe, or something in the water. Some alien aphrodisiac that’s affecting my normally very reasonable libido.

Because the alternative—that I’m genuinely, intensely attracted to Rok, who until recently didn’t even have the appropriate equipment—is too bizarre to contemplate.

I curl up on my side again, squeezing my eyes shut and willing myself to sleep. “Just rest,” I mutter. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day of not dying in the desert. Focus on that.”

Eventually, exhaustion wins out over my racing thoughts. I guess I fall asleep because in the next moment…

__

His hands are everywhere at once—too much, not enough. Calluses scrape my ribs as his mouth hits that spot under my ear that makes my hips jerk. I’m panting before we even really start, nails digging into his shoulders hard enough that I smell copper.

“Fuck, Rok—” The words get strangled when he growls against my throat. Not some romantic purr—a real fucking growl, all vibration and teeth that I feel in my teeth.

His knee shoves my legs apart like he’s staking a claim. No sweet nothings, just ragged breathing and the slick sound of his mouth on my skin. When his fingers dig into my thighs, I know there’ll be bruises tomorrow.

I don’t care.

I can feel him, all of him, pressing where I’m already soaked through. No poetry here. Just sweat and spit and the animalistic need to get closer. My heel rams into the small of his back, pulling him in hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.

“Oh fu— You’re huge—” I’m not thinking in complete sentences anymore. Just heat and pressure and the single-minded drive to take everything this golden bastard can give me.

His claws catch the light as they trail down my stomach. He’s holding himself back by a thread and we both know it. I can see his control fraying in the twitch of his jaw, the way his hips stutter when I rock up against him.

“Stop being so fucking careful,” I snarl, biting his shoulder hard enough to taste him. Salt and something electric, like licking a battery.

His answering snarl shakes the cave walls.

__

I jolt awake, my body flushed and trembling, the echo of dream-pleasure still pulsing between my legs. For a moment, I’m disoriented, unsure where I am or what woke me.

Then reality crashes back—the cave, the pool, Rok…

Rok, who is watching me from across the chamber, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, his expression unreadable.

How long has he been staring? Did I make noise in my sleep? Did I say his name out loud?

The thought makes my face burn, and I quickly look away, pretending to stretch as if I’ve just woken from a perfectly normal, not-at-all-erotic dream about the alien sitting ten feet away.

“Morning,” I say, wincing at how rough my voice sounds. “Or…whatever time it is.”

The light filtering through the cracks in the ceiling has changed, growing brighter, suggesting it’s early morning. Time to leave, to venture back into the desert, to face whatever dangers lie between us and my sister.

To go back to a place where there are no pools for bathing, no privacy, no barrier between me and the object of my increasingly inappropriate dreams.

And what the hell was that? That dream. I’m convinced this planet wants me to fuck him. What else could it be?

It’s slowly driving me crazy. Like a hum under my skin. A literal itch only he can scratch.

Fuck.

I push myself up, running a hand through my hair, trying to gather my composure. I don’t have anything to take with me on the journey to Rok’s people. My handbag was useless anyway and there was nothing in it except for those two biscuits. I have nothing. And going out into a killer desert with nothing in hand sounds like suicide.

All I have is Rok.

As I move around the cave, preparing for our journey (by basically drinking as much water as my belly can hold and tying up my hair so it’s not hanging on my neck), I’m acutely aware of Rok’s gaze following me. There’s something different about him this morning—a new focus, a clarity in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

He seems to have settled, his body appearing normal—well, normal for him—the stars no longer visible beneath his skin. But there’s still a change, a shift in his presence that sends a little shiver down my spine.

When I finally work up the courage to look directly at him, he meets my gaze steadily, unblinking. Then, slowly, he bares his teeth in that not-quite-smile that today manages to be even more charming than the day before.

I narrow my eyes at him. How’s he getting better at that so quickly?

“Ready?” I ask, gesturing toward the cave entrance, hoping he understands the question.

He nods once, then rises to his full height. The makeshift covering around his waist has shifted during the night, and I quickly avert my eyes before I can see whether his…situation…has resolved itself.

Some questions are better left unanswered.

But then I notice him moving toward the pool, a tent still pitched before him and the small pumpkin-like object still in his hands. He crouches at the water’s edge, and I see now it’s not a pumpkin at all, but some kind of gourd. He dips it into the water, filling it completely, then carefully pushes the carved top back in, creating what looks like a surprisingly effective water bottle.

“Smart,” I murmur, impressed despite myself.

But what he does next catches me completely off guard.

With a single motion, Rok reaches up and grasps a few strands of his hair. Before I can process what he’s doing, he gives a sharp tug, pulling several long, gleaming filaments free from his scalp.

“What are you—” My eyes widen in shock.

He ignores my half-formed question, focused intently on his task. With those dexterous claws, he twists the strands around the end of the bone stick he’s been using, securing them like a makeshift handle. Then he threads the bone through a hole in the gourd, creating a carrying strap.

When he’s finished, he rises and approaches me, extending the water vessel with an expectant look.

I stare at it, then at him, understanding slowly dawning. He made this. For me. Spent hours carving it while I slept, and even sacrificed his own hair to make it functional.

“For me?” My voice goes embarrassingly small.

He nods once.

I reach out and take it, my fingers brushing against his in the exchange. “Thank you,” I whisper, hoping he can hear the gratitude in my tone.

The air between us seems to crackle with unspoken tension as we stand barely a foot apart. As I take my new water bottle, his gaze drops to my lips, lingering there with an intensity that makes my face flush hot the moment I notice. My pulse hammers in my throat and I push it back with a swallow.

Is he going to kiss me again? Part of me—a growing, insistent part—hopes so.

He leans forward, and I unconsciously tilt my face up toward his, but instead of capturing my lips, he presses his forehead to mine in that now-familiar gesture.

“ Let us go. My clan awaits .” The images are more vivid than before—the two of us crossing the desert, approaching a series of stone structures nestled against a cliff face, beings similar to Rok emerging to greet us.

“Oh. Of course,” I breathe, trying to hide my embarrassment at where my thoughts had wandered. “Right. Going. To your clan. Got it.”

I step back, clutching the gourd to my chest like it’s some precious artifact rather than a practical tool. My heart is still racing, and I’m painfully aware of the blush staining my cheeks.

This is ridiculous. I’m behaving like a teenager with her first crush, not a grown woman who should be desperate to get back to her sister and off this dusty rock!

Yet as I nod my agreement and follow him toward the cave entrance, I can’t shake the growing certainty that I’m in serious trouble here. As we step out into the morning light, I give myself a stern internal lecture about priorities and survival and the extreme inadvisability of interspecies romance.

But as Rok turns back to make sure I’m following, that not-quite-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, I know it’s already too late.

I am so, so screwed.

And not in the fun way. Yet.