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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T he Xenobeast dreamed of her again.

In the dream, she walked through crimson jungle foliage toward him, unafraid. Her dark curls caught the light of the triple moons. Her smile promised things he’d never known he wanted until she crashed into his world.

He woke with a start, disoriented by the heat coursing through his body. The cave was still dark, pre-dawn light barely filtering through the entrance. The pups slept in their usual spots—curled at the foot of the bed, breathing in synchrony.

But something was different.

Xara lay beneath him, her small body trapped under his much larger one. His weight pressed her into the sleeping platform, one of his arms wrapped possessively around her waist. His body was hard, aching, primed for claiming.

How had this happened? He’d fallen asleep beside her, not on top of her.

He started to pull away, ashamed of his lack of control, when her eyes fluttered open. Instead of fear or disgust, her lips curved into a sleepy smile.

“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

He froze, unsure how to respond. His sensory tendrils curled toward her of their own accord, drawn to her warmth.

She reached up slowly, giving him a chance to pull away, then gently traced the line of his jaw, exploring the contours of his face. When her thumb brushed across his lower lip, a growl rumbled from deep in his chest.

Her eyes widened, but not with fear. “Is this okay?” she whispered.

He couldn’t speak—couldn’t form words to explain the storm raging inside him. How could he tell her that he’d been engineered for violence, not tenderness? That the heat crawling beneath his skin terrified him because he didn’t know how to control it?

But she didn’t wait for an answer. She lifted her head from the bedding and pressed her mouth to his.

The kiss was soft, tentative—a question rather than a demand. Her lips were warm and yielding against his, and for a moment, he remained perfectly still, afraid that any movement might break this fragile connection.

Then instinct took over.

His mouth moved against hers, claiming, tasting. His sensory tendrils wrapped around her arms, her shoulders, her neck—seeking contact, drawing her closer. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, tilting her face to deepen the kiss.

She made a small sound of pleasure that vibrated through him like a shock wave. Her arms wound around his neck, fingers tangling in his tendrils, sending sparks of excitement down his spine.

For one glorious moment, he surrendered to it—the heat, the hunger, the primal need to claim her as his own. His body pressed more insistently against hers, and she arched into him, encouraging.

Then reality crashed back over him like an icy wave.

He broke away abruptly, rolling off her and onto his feet in one fluid movement. His chest heaved with ragged breaths as he stared down at her—lips swollen from his kiss, eyes heavy-lidded with desire, skin flushed with warmth.

She looked beautiful. Desirable. Breakable.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, pushing herself up on her elbows.

He backed away, unable to form words. The beast inside him clawed for release, demanding he return to her and finish what they’d started. His body throbbed with need, but his fear was stronger.

Not fear of her—fear of himself.

He gestured toward the cave entrance, miming the action of hunting. Food. They needed food. It was a flimsy excuse, but it would have to do.

Before she could protest, he fled into the pre-dawn jungle.

The crimson foliage brushed against his skin as he moved with practiced silence through the underbrush. His senses were hyperalert, cataloging every sound, scent, and movement—but his mind remained fixated on her.

The softness of her lips. The small sounds she made when he kissed her. The way her body fit against his, as if designed for him alone.

He ran faster, pushing his body to its limits, trying to outpace the desire that followed him like a shadow. The jungle blurred around him, familiar territory becoming a red-black smear as he raced toward the river that ran down from the mountains and cut through the eastern sector.

When he reached the water’s edge, he didn’t hesitate. He dove into the frigid current, letting the shock of cold water steal his breath and numb his overheated skin. He stayed submerged until his lungs burned for air, then surfaced with a gasp.

It didn’t help.

Even as the river’s chill penetrated his core, the memory of her warmth remained. He floated on his back, staring up at the alien sky as it shifted from deep emerald to the pale jade of dawn.

What was happening to him? He’d survived for years in isolation, content with solitude, needing nothing but the hunt and the kill. Now he couldn’t imagine a day without seeing her smile, hearing her voice, watching her interact with the pups.

He closed his eyes, but that only made it worse.

His mind immediately conjured images of her—bent over the fire last night, the curve of her hips outlined by firelight as she tended the flames.

Wet and naked as she bathed. The way she’d looked up at him with that teasing smile, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

And she probably did. He wasn’t built for subtlety or deception. His creators had designed him for one purpose: to be a perfect weapon. Emotions were flaws to be eliminated. Desires were weaknesses to be exploited.

Yet here he was, floating in a river at dawn, trying to cool the fire that had ignited the moment she smiled at him.

With a frustrated growl, he dove back under the water. This time when he surfaced, he forced himself to focus on the hunt. They needed food. The pups were growing rapidly, their appetites increasing daily. Xara needed protein to maintain her strength.

Xara. Even her name sent a pulse of heat through him.

He snarled and launched himself out of the river, water cascading from his body as he scanned the shoreline for tracks. There—the distinctive three-toed print of a dunar, a herbivore with tender meat that she seemed to enjoy. He set off in pursuit, grateful for the distraction.

The hunt was quick and efficient. He cornered the dunar in a small clearing, dispatched it with a single strike, and hoisted the carcass onto his shoulders. As he made his way back towards the cave, his thoughts inevitably returned to her.

He couldn’t keep running. Sooner or later, he would have to face what was happening between them. The way his body responded to her presence. The way his chest tightened when she laughed. The way his instincts screamed to claim her, protect her, keep her.

But what if he lost control? What if the beast they’d engineered into his DNA broke free and hurt her? The thought made him physically ill.

As he approached the cave, he heard the excited squeaks of their pups—no longer frightened orphans but confident little creatures with personalities all their own. They must have sensed his return, because they came tumbling out of the cave entrance, rolling and chirping in greeting.

Trouble reached him first, scrambling up his leg to perch on his shoulder. The others followed, sniffing curiously at the bundle in his hand and the dunar carcass he’d retrieved.

Soldier had something shiny clutched in his tiny mouth. The pup dropped it into his palm with a proud chirp.

A shard of a medical scanner—standard Kaisarian technology, broken but potentially still functional. It must have come from the wreckage of Xara’s shuttle.

He pocketed it without comment. Later, when he was alone, he would see if it could be salvaged. Such technology could be useful, especially for monitoring her health.

As if his thoughts had conjured her up, she appeared in the cave entrance, silhouetted against the firelight behind her.

Her hair was tousled, her clothes rumpled from sleep.

She looked soft, warm, inviting, and his body immediately responded, the cold river bath rendered useless by a single glimpse of her.

“You’ve been gone a while,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “I was getting worried.”

He held up the dunar carcass as explanation, then approached cautiously, unsure of his welcome after his abrupt departure.

She stepped aside to let him pass, and he caught a whiff of her scent—skin still warm from sleep. His sensory tendrils reached for her automatically before he forced them back.

Inside the cave, he busied himself with preparing the meat, skinning and portioning the carcass with methodical precision. It gave him something to focus on besides her presence, though he remained acutely aware of her every movement.

She approached slowly, as if afraid of startling him, but when she reached out and placed her hand on his arm, he didn’t pull away. Her touch was light, warm, grounding.

“About this morning...” she began.

He tensed, his sensory tendrils coiling tightly against his skull.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she continued, her voice gentle. “But I want you to know that I’m not afraid of you.”

He looked at her then, really looked at her. She met his gaze steadily, her hazel eyes clear and unafraid.

She wasn’t lying. She wasn’t afraid.

She should be.

He turned away, resuming his work on the dunar meat. Behind him, he heard her sigh softly before she turned to the pups.

Domestic. That was the word for this scene. It felt dangerously, temptingly domestic.

As he worked, he stole glances at her—the curve of her neck as she bent over the pups, the gentle way she stroked Dot’s head, the smile that lit her face when one of the pups did something particularly endearing.

Heat clawed at his skin every time she smiled. His instincts roared beneath the surface, urging him to claim, to touch, to taste.

But he held back, focusing on the task at hand. He wasn’t built for this—for tenderness, for connection, for whatever was growing between them—but he couldn’t deny the truth any longer.

He wanted her. Not just physically, though that hunger was undeniable. He wanted everything—her smile, her laughter, her fearless spirit. He wanted to wake up beside her every morning. He wanted to hunt for her, provide for her, protect her.

He wanted to be worthy of her—and that was the most terrifying realization of all.