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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T he Xenobeast lay motionless, every muscle in his body tense with awareness.

Xara had finally fallen asleep, her breathing deep and even, her face peaceful in the dying firelight, and he’d crawled in with her as he did every night.

The Graxlin pups nestled around them, small bodies radiating warmth, their bioluminescent markings pulsing in time with their dreams.

He should move. Get up. Hunt. Run. Anything to escape the torment of being so close to her.

But her hand rested against his forearm, five small fingers splayed across his skin like a brand. The contact sent electricity through his veins, awakening sensations he’d thought long dead. Pleasure. Desire. Need.

His sensory tendrils coiled restlessly, yearning to explore the curves of her face, of her body, but he forced them back, maintaining his rigid control.

She shifted in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible. Her hand slid higher on his arm, her fingers tightening slightly, and the innocent gesture nearly undid him.

His body responded instantly, primal and demanding. Heat surged through him, pooling low in his abdomen. His skin flushed with bioluminescence, silver-blue patterns rippling across his chest and arms.

Take. Claim. Mine.

He closed his eyes, fighting for control, and the smallest pup—the one she’d named Dot—stirred, squeaking softly as she sensed his distress. The pup crawled over its siblings to nuzzle against his chest, her tiny claws gripping his skin. Her presence was both comforting and accusatory.

These creatures trusted him and depended on him, despite knowing what he was.

No. They didn’t really know. Other than that one fight with the predator, they’d seen only what he allowed them to see—glimpses of gentleness, moments of restraint. If they knew the blood on his hands, the destruction he’d wrought...

Xara sighed in her sleep, her lips curving into a slight smile. What did she dream of? Her world? Her life before? Or this strange existence they’d carved out together?

The firelight caught in her dark curls, making them gleam, and her skin glowed warm and soft in the amber light.

The urge to touch her overwhelmed him. Before he could stop himself, one tendril extended toward her face, hovering just above her cheek.

He felt the heat radiating from her skin, the faint electrical field that surrounded all living things. Just one touch. One taste.

His tendril brushed her cheek, feather-light and her scent flooded his senses. His body hardened further, desire coiling tight in his core as he remembered her body wet and naked by the bath he’d created for her. The markings on his skin flared brighter, pulsing with his accelerated heartbeat.

She stirred again, turning her face toward his touch, and he jerked back, ashamed. Taking advantage of her vulnerability went against everything he’d fought to become. He was not the weapon they’d created. He would not be ruled by instinct alone.

Dot chirped questioningly, her head tilted in confusion at his sudden movement.

“Sleep,” he commanded silently, stroking the pup’s head with one careful claw.

She yawned, showing her tiny fangs, then curled back against her siblings. Their trust was a gift he hadn’t earned, a responsibility he’d never sought.

Just like her.

She’d crashed into his world, bringing chaos and warmth and complications. She’d seen his violence and still smiled at him. Touched him without fear. Laughed in his presence.

The sound of her laughter haunted him—bright and unexpected, like finding water in the desert. Had there ever been laughter in his life? If there had it had been buried beneath years of training and pain.

Her hand shifted again, sliding down to rest against his wrist. Her fingers curled around him, holding on even in sleep as if she needed him.

The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.

No one had needed him before—not as anything but a weapon. His creators had wanted his strength, his killing efficiency. They’d never wanted his thoughts, his questions, his refusal to destroy the innocent.

But she looked at him and saw... what? A protector? A companion? Something more?

“I guess you do like me after all,” she’d said when she’d discovered his arousal, her eyes wide but unafraid. Not disgusted or frightened, but almost... pleased.

The memory made his skin burn hotter. What would she do if she woke now and found him watching her?

If she saw the hunger in his eyes, felt the heat radiating from his skin?

Would she still smile? She hadn’t pulled away from him in her bath, but she didn’t know what he was capable of doing—what he had done.

Carefully, with excruciating control, he began to withdraw his arm from beneath her hand. Her fingers tightened reflexively, a small sound of protest escaping her lips. He froze.

“Stay,” she murmured, the word slurred with sleep.

His heart hammered against his ribs. Had she spoken consciously? Or was it just dream-talk, meaningless sounds shaped by unconscious wants?

Either way, he couldn’t deny her. Not when every cell in his body yearned to be closer to her.

He settled back, allowing her hand to remain on his wrist. The pups shifted, adjusting to his movement, then settled again with contented chirps.

Dot crawled onto his chest, curling into a ball directly over his heart. Its tiny body rose and fell with his breathing, a strange counterpoint to the turmoil inside him.

Outside, the jungle hummed with night sounds—predators hunting, prey hiding, the endless cycle of survival. He’d been part of that cycle for so long, existing only to persist another day. Fighting not for joy or purpose, but because surrender wasn’t in his programming.

Now, watching her sleep, feeling the weight of trust from these small creatures, he wondered if there could be more—more than survival, more than exile, and more than the half-life he’d carved out of pain and solitude.

Her scent wrapped around him, intoxicating and maddening. Beneath it, he detected subtle changes—chemical shifts that had occurred since her arrival. Her body adapting to this world, to its atmosphere, its food.

To him.

The thought sent another surge of heat through him, and his markings flared brighter, casting blue-silver light across her sleeping face. She was changing, becoming part of this place. Part of his territory.

Mine.

He had no framework for this—no training, no programming, no experience to guide him through these unfamiliar waters.

His creators had designed him for war, not connection.

For killing, not caring. But he’d refused to be only what they made him.

He’d chosen differently and paid the price for that choice, but he’d survived.

Perhaps this too was a choice. Not just to protect her, not just to tolerate her presence, but to... what?

Want her? He already did, with an intensity that frightened him.

Trust her? Against all logic, against years of brutal training, he did.

Love her?

He didn’t know if he could love, but watching her sleep, feeling the weight of her hand on his skin, he knew one thing with absolute certainty: he would die before he let anything harm her.

The fire crackled, sending shadows dancing across the cave walls. Outside, a predator screamed—a hunting call, distant but clear. The pups stirred, sensing danger even in their sleep and one whimpered softly.

Instinctively, he curved his body around them, shielding them from a threat that couldn’t reach them here. His arm brushed against hers, skin to skin, and the contact sent another jolt through him.

She sighed, turning toward him in her sleep. Her face was inches from his now, her breath warm against his cheek. So close. So vulnerable. So trusting.

He could taste her breath—sweet with fruit, rich with life.

His sensory tendrils coiled forward again, drawn to her warmth and this time, he didn’t pull back.

He let one tendril brush her hair, absorbing the texture, the scent.

Another traced the curve of her ear, the line of her jaw. Mapping her, memorizing her.

She made a soft sound—not quite a moan, not quite a sigh. Pleasure, not pain. His control slipped another notch, and the markings on his skin pulsed faster, brighter.

Take. Claim. Mine.

He could. She was right here, warm and soft and...

No.

With brutal force, he reined himself in. She deserved better than to wake to his hands on her body, his need pressing against her. She deserved a choice. Consent. Things his creators had never given him.

He would not become like them and take what wasn’t freely offered—even if it killed him.

And it might. The ache in his body was physical pain now, desire transmuted to agony by denial. His skin felt too tight, his blood too hot, his control too fragile.

He needed to move, to run until exhaustion dulled the edge of this knife-sharp want, but her hand still held his wrist, and the pups still slept against him, trusting and vulnerable. He couldn’t leave them. Wouldn’t.

So he lay there, rigid with restraint, watching the firelight play across her face. Memorizing every curve, every shadow, every soft breath.

Dawn was hours away. Hours of exquisite torture, of wanting what he couldn’t have, wouldn’t take.

The fire popped and hissed, the only sound besides their breathing—hers soft and even, his carefully controlled.

He would endure. He would protect. He would wait, and until then, he would lie beside her, aching and wide awake, caught between the beast he was made to be and the male he was struggling to become.