Page 34 of Rok’s Captive (Barbarians of the Dust #1)

THIS IS FINE. EVERYTHING IS FINE. I’M TOTALLY IN LOVE WITH AN ALIEN

JUSTINE

H ours later, I sit cross-legged beside a fire pit in the main cave dwelling. A fire, it seems, lit solely for my purpose as these Drakav don’t appear to need its warmth. The dancing flames cast shifting shadows across the stone walls and the heat feels wonderful against my skin with the cold of the night creeping in. Despite the comfort of the fire, though, I can’t relax. The weight of too many eyes follows my every movement.

The cave is massive—at least thirty feet high at its center, with a natural chimney that draws the smoke upward. The space is surprisingly orderly, with distinct areas that seem designated for specific purposes. Stone platforms line the walls—sleeping places, I assume. Various implements hang from pegs driven into the rock—tools, weapons, containers made from materials I don’t recognize.

Kol sits across from me, his face illuminated by the firelight as he watches me with unrelenting intensity. Rok hasn’t left my side since we arrived, his body a constant presence against mine, his hand frequently finding mine as if to reassure himself I’m still there.

The rest of the clan keeps a respectful distance, but their curiosity is palpable. Every few minutes, one approaches bearing some offering—a gourd of water, a portion of fresh meat, a strange fruit-like object with a hard shell. Each gift is presented with a careful glance at Rok, as if seeking permission to come near me.

Rok tolerates these approaches, but barely. His muscles remain tense, his breathing controlled. When a particularly bold clan member lingers too long, Rok’s mental voice snaps out a warning that has the offender retreating hastily.

“Your protector is most vigilant,” Kol observes after the fifth such incident, his thoughts tinged with something that might be amusement.

“He’s always been protective,” I reply, accepting a water gourd from a young male who immediately backs away from Rok’s glare.

“No,” Kol corrects, his face thoughtful. “This is different. This is…” He seems to search for the right concept. “Claiming.”

Heat rises to my cheeks at the word, and Kol goes still at the visible change in my skin color. Several nearby clan members shift closer, fascinated by this new development.

“She changes color!” one thinks loudly enough for everyone to hear. “You have enraged her, dra-dam!”

Dra-dam? Leader, I suppose. Kol is leaning forward slightly, focus on my skin so intent, embarrassment makes me blush even harder.

“It’s called blushing,” I explain, taking care to remember to talk in my head while also wishing my face would cool. “It happens when humans are…embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” The concept seems to confuse them.

“Uncomfortable with attention,” I clarify. “Or when discussing certain topics.”

“Such as claiming,” Kol supplies.

My blush deepens. “Yes.”

“I do not understand,” Kol continues. It seems he’s genuinely puzzled and I realize something I never noticed before. He, Rok, Tharn, the Drakav in general, do not seem to hide their emotions like humans do. Their minds are open. Their intentions clear.

Something warm develops in my chest as my gaze shifts to Rok. His intentions have always been clear to me. I’ve never had to guess.

“Claiming is simple.” Kol projects, bringing me back to the present. “When a Drakav finds something useful in the dust—a tool, a water source, a hunting territory—he claims it for his use. It becomes his. Rok has claimed you as his useful thing.”

My eyes widen as I realize the misunderstanding. He’s talking about ownership, possession—not the intimate act my mind immediately jumped to. But it’s too late; the memory of Rok’s mouth between my thighs, his tongue exploring places no one has ever touched in so long, flashes vividly in my mind. The heat, the wetness, the way he drank from me as if dying of thirst?—

A collective gasp echoes through the cave, not audible but mental—a wave of shock and confusion that makes me realize, to my absolute horror, that I’ve just accidentally broadcast that explicit memory to the entire clan.

The silence that follows is deafening. Every pair of golden eyes is fixed on me, expressions ranging from stunned to bewildered to intensely curious. Across the fire, Tharn’s mouth has actually fallen open, a very human gesture of shock that would be comical under other circumstances.

Rok goes completely still beside me.

“What…was…that?” Kol finally asks, his mental voice careful, measured even, as if approaching something potentially dangerous.

I want to dissolve into the stone beneath me. Instead, I press my hands to my blazing face, unable to look at any of them.

“I’m sorry,” I manage to think. “I didn’t mean to show that. It was private.”

“That was…” Someone’s thoughts reach me, then stop, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Sharing water,” Rok supplies calmly, though I can feel his discomfort rippling beneath the surface. “It is natural. As natural as breathing.”

“Sharing water…from there ?” Tharn asks incredulously, gesturing vaguely toward my lower body.

If possible, my face burns even hotter. I’m going to die of embarrassment right here in this cave, surrounded by confused alien males who’ve just gotten an unexpected glimpse of human sexuality.

“All females have water to share,” Rok states, but his gaze darts to me for confirmation. Oh fuck. What should I even say? Cheeks blazing, I nod. Rok’s shoulders straighten with even more confidence. “It is how bonds are strengthened.”

The clan members exchange glances, a buzz of confused mental whispers passing between them.

“This is…claiming?” Kol asks, clearly trying to reconcile this new information with his understanding of the word.

“No,” I hastily correct, the words coming from my lips. They all collectively wince. Shit. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and focus on saying everything in my head. “No. That’s…something else. Something private.”

“Private?” Kol does that thing again where I’m sure he’s turning the word over in his mind. They don’t…they don’t understand what I mean.

Pretty sure I’m digging myself a hole here.

“Private means it isn’t shared with others. Only those we trust the most.”

“I see,” Kol says, though it’s clear he doesn’t see at all. “Your species has strange customs, star-daughter.”

“Do all females allow this…water sharing?” Someone from the wider group projects directly at me. I don’t know who it is until they lean forward, tilting their head at me. But before I can answer, Rok’s growl fills my mind—a warning so potent I feel several of the gathered males recoil.

“My female’s water is mine alone,” he projects with unmistakable possessiveness. “As mine is hers.”

This declaration seems to make sense to the clan in a way the act itself didn’t. Territory, resources, possession—these are concepts they seem to understand well.

Kol raises a hand, silencing the murmurs that have broken out. “Enough,” he commands. “The customs of star-daughters are not our concern. What matters is finding the others. At first light.”

I’ve never been so grateful for a change of subject in my life. There’s a hum now, one of anticipation and curiosity. Thoughts tickling my brain like being in a big crowd at the county fair and hearing all the voices at once.

A clan member with particularly elaborate markings across his chest approaches, bearing what appears to be one of those freshly killed lizard creatures. He presents it to me with a gesture that seems almost ceremonial.

“For the female’s strength,” he projects, his mental voice carrying an undercurrent of excitement. “The dra-kir gives greatest power.”

I stare at the bloody offering. “Thank you,” I manage. Rok intervenes, taking the offering with a brief nod of acknowledgment.

“She requires food touched by flame,” he explains, then turns to pierce the small carcass with a sharpened bone, holding it over the fire.

The male tilts his head, confused.

The gathered clan watches this process with fascination. I hear their mental murmurs—wondering at my strange dietary needs, at Rok’s willingness to prepare food for me, at everything about this bizarre situation.

My gaze shifts to Rok. “Do you think they still believe I’m male like them?”

Rok’s warm gaze shifts to me, so very different from the cold glares he’s been sending his brothers. “No. If they thought you were a male from a rival clan, they would not be giving you offerings.”

Well, that’s a relief.

“Tell us of your world, star-daughter,” Kol projects, diverting attention from the cooking meat. “Why did you return to our dust?”

All eyes turn to me expectantly. I take a deep breath, considering how to explain Earth and the fact that I’m not this…mythical daughter of the sun they think I am.

“I come from a world called Earth,” I begin. “A planet—a…round ground in the sky—much like this one, but with more water. Our people have learned to travel among the stars, visiting other worlds to learn about them. But…we didn’t come here. I am not the daughter of Ain you revere so much. I am simply a human. I and all the others females who need your help.”

I take a deep breath, waiting for this revelation to come back and bite me in the ass. What’s worse, Kol’s face is unreadable. Even more than Rok’s. I can see why he’s the leader. Back on Earth, his poker game would be freaking marvelous.

“ Not a daughter of Ain…” is all he says.

I take a breath.

“No,” I shake my head. “I am not.”

Kol leans forward. Everyone else is completely silent, not even their whispering thoughts reaching my mind. He inhales deeply, scenting me. “But you are female. In the image of Rok sharing your water, I saw that you had no pouch. No member.”

Back to this again. I try not to blush, clearing my throat instead.

“You are correct.” I take another deep breath. “Not a daughter of Ain, but female still.”

A collective intake of breath that seems to draw the very air from the cave. The mental whispers suddenly intensify—a cacophony of wonder, disbelief, hope, and fear that makes my temples throb.

“I’m sorry.” I close my eyes so I can focus my thoughts. “I’m sorry if that’s disappointing. Sorry if that’s not what you want to hear. But I beg, my sister and the others, the other women, the other females, they need your help. They will die out there if no one helps them.”

I swallow hard, waiting for his response. When I finally open my eyes, Kol is studying me intently. As is everyone else in the cave except Rok. He’s meeting each of their gazes in turn, tension radiating from his frame. As if should one of them make a move, he will tear their throat out.

“We…” Kol starts. “We will not let females die. That would go against everything passed down from generations of Drakav. You say you are no daughter of Ain, but you fell from Ain and landed in the dust. You are daughter enough to us.”

The weight of his words settles over me. He doesn’t have to spell it out. They will help us.

The relief I feel can’t even be put into words or thought. Tears brim in my eyes, a single one running down my cheek.

The cave grows suddenly quiet—not a single thought coming through. Then all at once, every golden eye in the cave fixes on the teardrop trailing down my face.

“She…leaks water,” comes Tharn’s shocked exclamation, breaking the silence.

And suddenly the mental barrage intensifies, becoming a focused onslaught directed at me from all sides.

“—her face produces water!—”

“—is this how females share?—”

“—precious resource from her eye-holes?—”

“—what does it taste like?—”

“—is she injured? Why does she leak?—”

“—can all females make water appear?—”

“—Rok must be powerful to bond with a water-maker?—”

“—imagine never thirsting in the dust again?—”

The onslaught is like a physical pressure against my mind, dozens of voices clamoring for attention. I press my hands to my temples, wincing as the mental noise grows louder, more insistent.

Rok notices immediately. Without hesitation, he shifts to face me, gently taking my face between his hands. Pressing his forehead to mine, he creates a bubble of quiet around my consciousness, blocking out the invasive thoughts.

“Focus on me,” he instructs gently. “Only me. Build walls around your mind—strong, high. You control who enters.”

I concentrate, visualizing the barrier as he describes. To my surprise, it works—the chaotic voices recede, becoming distant murmurs rather than shouting crowds.

“Yes,” he encourages, his mental voice warm with pride. “Like that. You learn quickly, my Jus-teen.”

The tenderness in his thoughts, the gentle care in his touch—it overwhelms me with gratitude. Without thinking, I lean forward and press my lips to his in a brief, chaste kiss.

When I pull back, I become aware of the absolute silence that has fallen over the cave once more. Everyone’s attention is fixed on us, expressions ranging from shock to fascination to something darker, hungrier.

“What was that joining?” Kol’s voice booms in my head, absolutely cutting through the barrier I’d created. “What ritual is this?”

Heat floods my cheeks again. Oh fuck. This is like one of those alien movies where the clueless human accidentally marries the chieftain’s son, starts an interplanetary war, and overthrows a thousand-year-old religious order all before dinner. At this rate, I’m going to single-handedly destroy their entire cultural foundation before bedtime.

“It’s called a kiss,” I explain reluctantly. “It’s…a gesture of affection among my people.”

“Affection,” Kol repeats, as if tasting the word. “Like grooming?”

“Sort of,” I hedge, not wanting to dive into the intricacies of human romance. “More intimate.”

“Do all your females perform this type of water sharing, too?” Tharn asks, his voice carrying an undertone I can’t quite identify.

“Well, yes,” I admit. “With people they care about.”

This revelation sends a ripple of excitement through the gathered clan. I can almost see the wheels turning in their heads, imagining a world full of females who might bestow such “affection” on them.

Oh god. What have I done?

“Enough,” Rok growls, his arm encircling my shoulders. “My female needs rest.”

Kol studies us for a long moment, his face unreadable. Finally, he inclines his head. “Rest. At first light, we journey to find your lost ones.”

Rok stands and offers me his hand. “Come,” he projects softly. “You need rest.”

I take his hand, grateful for the escape from the intense scrutiny. My legs ache from sitting cross-legged for so long, and exhaustion weighs on me like a physical burden. The events of the day have left me completely drained.

Rok leads me through a narrow passage branching off from the main cavern. The tunnel winds deeper into the cliff face, occasionally opening into smaller chambers.

“Here,” Rok projects finally, gesturing to an opening in the stone wall.

He guides me into what is clearly his personal space—a modestly sized chamber carved into the living rock. The ceiling is low enough that he must duck slightly to enter, though there’s enough room for me to stand comfortably.

Rok watches my face as I take in his dwelling. His chest is puffed slightly, but as he follows my gaze, his expression shifts to uncertainty, then something like embarrassment.

“This is my chamber,” he explains. “I earned it when I became scout leader. Few have their own space.”

I can tell he’s seeing it through my eyes now, and finding it lacking. The chamber is Spartanly furnished—a pile of animal hides in one corner serves as bedding; various tools and weapons hang from pegs hammered into cracks in the stone; a small niche holds what appear to be personal items—a collection of unusual stones, a piece of metal that might be from a ship, and a few bone carvings.

Rok’s brow furrows as he scans the bare rock walls. “It is…not much,” he projects hesitantly. “Not worthy of a female.”

I reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s perfect,” I tell him, and I’m being honest.

Because at this moment, it is. It’s shelter, it’s safety, and most importantly, it’s away from dozens of curious eyes and probing minds. My legs feel ready to buckle beneath me, and my eyelids are growing heavier by the second.

Rok seems unconvinced by my assurance, his gaze still moving critically around the chamber. “Tomorrow I will make it better,” he decides. “More comfortable for you.”

“Tomorrow,” I agree, though in my mind, tomorrow holds more pressing concerns—finding the others, making sure they’re safe. The thought of Jacqui and the rest of the women alone in the wasteland sends a fresh spike of anxiety through me.

As if sensing my thoughts, Rok guides me to the pile of hides. “Rest now,” he projects gently. “We will find your people when Ain rises. That is my oath.”

I sink gratefully onto the surprisingly soft bedding, too exhausted to even remove my shoes. The hides smell of him. It’s oddly comforting.

“Sleep,” Rok projects, settling beside me, his body radiating warmth in the cool chamber. “I will keep watch.”

As consciousness begins to slip away, my last coherent thought is of tomorrow—of traveling through the desert, of facing unknown dangers, of the hope and fear warring within me.

But for now, in this moment, sheltered in a cave with an alien warrior who’s somehow become my protector, I feel something I’ve felt since only being in his presence.

I feel safe.