Page 28 of Rok’s Captive (Barbarians of the Dust #1)

THIS NEW BODY: INSTRUCTIONS NOT INCLUDED

ROK

T he dust stretches endlessly before us, vast and unforgiving under Ain’s harsh gaze. Our journey will be long—longer than I initially planned.

I must take Jus-teen on a winding path to avoid the rival clan’s territory. Their scent lingers in the air, faint but unmistakable, carried on the wind like a warning. They are restless, their movements concerning. It is as if they are searching for something—or someone.

Perhaps they sensed Jus-teen’s arrival. Perhaps they simply expand their reach, emboldened by the changing cycles. The calm season is upon us. A perfect time for exploration and travel. But whatever the reason they move, we cannot risk an encounter. Not with Jus-teen so vulnerable.

Not with me in this…condition.

Everything feels different. There is a hum beneath my surface now, a ceaseless vibration that I cannot suppress. An awareness that sharpens every sense, pulls every thought toward her.

Toward Jus-teen.

I lead us in Ain’s rising direction, away from the direct route to my clan’s settlement. The path is harder, winding through broken stone ridges and stretches of loose sand, but it offers safety. I keep to the shadows of the ridges where Ain’s light cannot reach us fully, though even here the heat is unrelenting for the female at my back.

She follows without complaint, her smaller form moving steadily behind me, though I can sense her fatigue growing with each passing solmark.

She is strong for one so small, so soft. Her resilience impresses me, even as I worry for her safety.

And yet, her presence is a torment.

The new appendages between my legs have not returned to their former state. My cock remains fully extended, pressed uncomfortably against the hide covering she fashioned for me. The sacs beneath it feel heavy, tight with some purpose I do not understand but cannot ignore.

I find myself acutely aware of her every movement.

The swing of her arms as she walks. The way her chest rises and falls with each breath. The occasional brush of her hand against mine when the terrain forces us closer together. Each point of contact sends a pulse of heat through me that settles in my stem, making it twitch with renewed interest.

It is…distracting.

During the darkness, as she rested in the cave last dark, I found myself unable to look away from her.

She had curled near the fire, her small body folded into itself like the fragile creatures that burrow beneath the dust. Her breathing was soft, steady, her lips slightly parted. Occasionally, she murmured in her rest, the sound too faint for me to distinguish but enough to make my claws flex against the stone.

Without conscious decision, my claw had wrapped around my stem. My new appendage, so unfamiliar, so sensitive, throbbed at the memory of her taste, the feel of her essence on my tongue.

At first, I moved slowly, testing the sensation, unsure of what my body demanded. The pleasure was sharp, like the sting of cold water on Ain-heated skin, but it pulled me deeper, made me grip harder.

And then the images came.

Not from my mind, but from hers as she slept.

Jus-teen beneath me, her soft body yielding to mine.

Jus-teen, her thighs wrapped around my waist, her head thrown back in pleasure.

Jus-teen, her hands clutching at my shoulders, her breathless voice calling my name.

The projections were vivid, unguarded, pouring into the mindspace between us like a flood. I could feel her softness, taste her on my tongue again, hear the sounds she would make as I claimed her.

My claw moved faster, gripping tighter, the pleasure building until it consumed me completely. When the release came, it was unlike anything I’d ever known—a pulse of wetness spilling over my claw, my body trembling with the force of it.

For the first time in my existence, my body wasted water, and I was too far gone to care about it.

But the relief was temporary. By dawn, the tension had returned, sharper than before, the need building like pressure in a dust geyser.

I cannot allow myself to lose control again, not while she depends on me for protection.

* * *

Ain is at her highest when I notice Jus-teen faltering.

She has fallen behind me, her steps slow and uneven, her breathing labored. The red tint spreading across her exposed skin concerns me—it is the warning sign I have come to recognize as her body struggling with Ain’s heat.

I stop and move back to her side, assessing her condition. The gourd is nearly empty. Even though she has already consumed what would have served me and five of my brothers for sols, I know that for her needs, she has been conserving it well. But the journey is taxing her small form more than I anticipated.

“ Rest ,” I project, as I gesture to a shaded alcove beneath a nearby ridge.

She hesitates, her brow furrowing as if to argue, but when I press my forehead to hers, the thought passes between us clearly.

“ Rest. You cannot continue like this .”

She releases a breath, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. But only for a little while.”

I steady her as she moves toward the shade, my hand brushing against her arm. Even that brief contact sends a surge of heat through me, and I release her quickly, retreating a step to regain control. Her scent lingers in the air, warm and sweet, mingling with the heat of the dust, and the tension beneath my skin coils tighter as I fight the urge to touch her again, to press my forehead to hers and feel the flood of her thoughts.

She leans against the rock, her breathing slowing as her body relaxes.

We rest through the height of Ain’s passage, when the dust is hottest and most treacherous. Jus-teen dozes, her back against the stone, while I keep watch for dangers. Shadow stalkers rarely hunt during peak light, but small serpents emerge from their burrows to warm themselves, and rival clan scouts sometimes use this time to traverse open territory, knowing few predators will challenge them.

When Ain begins her descent, we resume our journey. Jus-teen moves more slowly now, her stride shortened. She does not complain, but I can see the toll the journey is taking on her.

By the third solmark, I make a decision.

“Jus-teen,” I say, moving to stand before her. I crouch, indicating my back, then mime lifting something.

Her brows furrow in what looks like confusion, but then her expression clears.

“Oh no,” she says, shaking her head. “I can walk.”

Her protest is weak, unconvincing. I make the gesture again, more insistent this time, and after a moment, she relents with a small nod.

Carefully, I lift her onto my back, her arms wrapping around my neck, her legs encircling my waist. The position brings her body flush against mine, her softness pressing into my hardness in a way that makes my stem throb painfully.

I nearly stumble at the sensation, momentarily blinded by the surge of heat that courses through me. But I steady myself, focusing on the path ahead rather than the feel of her against me.

Her breath is warm against my neck, her scent surrounding me, her small fingers occasionally brushing against my skin. Each touch is a spark to the fire already burning within me.

It is both relief and torture, carrying her this way.

By the time we reach the second shelter, I am nearly crazed with need.

The constant pressure of her body against mine, the soft sounds she makes when the terrain jostles us, the heat of her skin seeping into mine—it all combines into a torment I can barely endure.

I set her down carefully at the cave entrance, forcing myself to release her even as my claws linger at her waist.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice soft, paired with a small baring of her teeth that makes my chest tighten.

Once I check the interior to ensure no creatures linger there, I do a chin jerk, then gesture for her to enter the cave while I secure the area. She hesitates, glancing at me with a question in her eyes, but then complies, disappearing into the shadowed interior.

The moment she is out of sight, I lean against the stone wall, my chest heaving with the effort of restraint. My stem is painfully hard, straining against the hide covering, demanding attention I cannot give it. Not here. Not now. Not with Jus-teen so close, so vulnerable, depending on me for protection.

I force myself to focus on practical matters. Sustenance. Water. Shelter. These are the priorities, not the insistent throbbing between my legs.

With determined strides, I move away from the cave, scanning the surrounding terrain for signs of prey. It doesn’t take long to spot a colony of dust crabs—small, six-legged creatures that burrow just beneath the surface of the dust. They aren’t as substantial as our previous meals, but they’re plentiful and easy to catch.

I harvest a dozen of them, pinning each with a quick strike of my claw before adding them to the collection. Their flesh is bitter but nutritious, and properly prepared, they will provide enough sustenance for both of us until dawn.

When I return to the cave, I find Jus-teen sitting cross-legged on the floor. She looks up as I enter, her expression brightening at the sight of food, though that hope quickly fades when she realizes what I’ve brought.

I settle across from her, setting my catch between us. Unlike our previous shelter, this barren cave offers no fuel for kindling. We will have to consume the dust crabs raw—a prospect I know will not please her.

She watches intently as I begin to prepare the small creatures, my claws working to remove the poisonous glands and bitter organs. Her brow furrows slightly, and I catch her glancing around the cave, perhaps searching for something to burn.

“ No fire ,” I project, though I do not think she receives the message. I mimic creating a flame with my claws, then spread them wide—the gesture for absence among my people.

For a moment, she blinks at me and then understanding dawns in her eyes, followed by poorly concealed dismay as she looks back at the pale, glistening flesh of the dust crabs. To her credit, she doesn’t recoil, merely takes a deep breath as if steeling herself for an unpleasant task.

When I offer her a portion—the best parts, with the least bitterness—she accepts it with a grateful nod, though her expression suggests she’s preparing for battle rather than a meal.

Her first bite is cautious, tentative. She chews slowly, her face contorting briefly before she forces herself to swallow. But she doesn’t complain, merely continues eating with determined efficiency, washing down each bite with small sips from what’s left in her gourd.

I will need to carve her a better one, I think as I watch her eat. It is hard not to admire her resilience, her adaptability. She is stronger than she appears, this soft creature from beyond the dust.

But as she eats, my gaze shifts to the movement of her throat as she swallows, the way her lips press together between bites, the occasional dart of her tongue to catch a stray morsel. Each small action sends a fresh pulse of heat through me, stoking the fire that has been building all day.

I cannot continue like this. The pressure is becoming unbearable, the need too insistent to ignore. If I remain here, watching her, I fear what I might do—what primal impulse might override my reason and honor.

“ Rest ,” I lean forward, touching my forehead to hers briefly before rising to my feet more abruptly than I intended.

She looks up at me, confusion clear in her expression. “Where are you going?” she vocalizes, her tone making the question clear even if I don’t understand her words.

I gesture vaguely toward the cave entrance, then mimic the motion of scanning the horizon.

I don’t wait for her response, striding quickly from the cave before my resolve can weaken. The cool evening air is a relief against my heated skin, but it does nothing to dampen the insistent throbbing between my thighs.

I move a short distance from the cave, just far enough that she won’t hear or see me, but close enough that I can reach her quickly if danger approaches. Finding a secluded spot behind a large boulder, I lean against the cooling stone and finally allow myself to address the need that has been tormenting me all day.

With swift, decisive movements, I unfasten the hide covering, freeing my stem from its confines. It springs forth eagerly, fully extended and aching with need. The sacs beneath it feel heavier than before, tight and full of something I instinctively know must be released.

I wrap my claw around the length of it, flinching slightly at even that light touch. The sensitivity is almost painful, but the pleasure that follows the pain is immediate and intense.

As I begin to move my claw, stroking from base to tip and back again, I close my eyes and let the sensation wash over me. Images of Jus-teen fill my mind—her perfection, her laugh, the way she looked at me when I transformed, fear and wonder mingling in her expression.

I think of her body pressed against mine as I carried her across the dust, the feel of her soft curves, the scent of her skin. I remember the taste of her essence, sweet and tangy on my tongue, and the sounds she made when pleasure overtook her.

The memory alone is enough to make my movements quicken, my breath coming in harsh pants as the pressure builds. I should feel shame for using thoughts of her this way, but I cannot bring myself to care. Not when the release is so close, so desperately needed.

When it comes, it is even more powerful than before—a surge of pleasure so intense it nearly brings me to my knees, my claw squeezing rhythmically as wetness spills over my fingers in pulsing waves. For moments afterward, I can only lean against the stone, trembling, as my body slowly calms.

The relief is immediate but incomplete. Like a thirst only partially quenched, it leaves me satisfied for the moment but aware that the need will return. And with it, the knowledge that what my body truly craves cannot be satisfied by my own touch.

I clean myself as best I can, brief guilt as I bury the moisture beneath the dust and refasten the hide covering. I make a quick circuit of our shelter to ensure no threats have approached while I was…distracted. Finding nothing concerning, I return to the cave, composed once more, ready to face Jus-teen without the overwhelming desperation that drove me away.

She looks up as I enter, her expression questioning but not suspicious. “Everything okay out there?” she asks, gesturing toward the entrance.

I nod, moving to sit across from her against the opposite wall of the cave. The distance between us is necessary, I tell myself. Safe.

But even as I think it, I find my gaze drawn to her again and again. To the curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder. To the soft swell of her chest beneath her coverings. To her hands, small and delicate, yet capable of such strength.

This soft creature is mine to protect, I remind myself. Mine to guide safely to my clan. Nothing more.

But as she settles back against the cave wall, her eyes drifting closed in exhaustion, I cannot help but wonder if that is truly all she is to me. If that is all she can ever be.

The stars that appeared beneath my skin, the transformation of my body, the constant pull I feel toward her—surely these things mean something. Surely the ancestors would not have remade me so completely without purpose.

I watch her as she slips into sleep, her breathing deep and even, her face peaceful in the firelight. And in that moment, I make a silent vow to the ancestors, to Ain herself.

I will discover what this connection between us means. I will understand why I have been transformed. And I will honor whatever purpose the ancestors have set before me, even if it means embracing feelings I cannot yet name.

Until then, I will protect her with every breath in my body. I will guide her safely through the dust. I will reunite her with her clan and bring her into mine.

And I will control this fire within me, no matter the cost.