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CHAPTER EIGHT

T he Xenobeast remained motionless, one pup still curled in his lap as the female slept across the cave.

His body was perfectly still, but his mind raced with unfamiliar impulses.

The firelight cast soft shadows across her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the curve of her hips and legs, golden in the firelight.

He had never seen anything so beautiful.

His gaze dropped to the pups snuggled against her breasts, and a deep purr vibrated in his throat.

Her care for them—the way she’d defended them, even though it had resulted in her injury—had triggered some type of primal response in him.

Her scent carried the complex chemical signatures of a predator-prey species but he had no desire to hunt her, only to protect her.

And she wasn’t afraid of him.

That fact alone disturbed the careful isolation he’d maintained for years. Fear was a weapon he wielded like his claws—a necessary barrier between himself and everything else on this death-world. Yet this small, soft creature had looked at him without terror in her eyes.

His sensory tendrils coiled restlessly. They wanted to reach across the cave, to brush against her skin again, to absorb more of her scent. He forced them back with practiced discipline, but the effort cost him.

The sleeping Graxlin pup in his lap shifted, its tiny claws flexing against his thigh. Its bioluminescent markings pulsed with contentment. The creature should have been terrified of him as well—everything was terrified of him. That was how he’d survived. How he’d kept others safe from what he was.

A low growl built in his chest. He wasn’t supposed to protect. He was built to hunt. To kill. To destroy.

Yet when he’d attacked that predator he’d simply acted on pure, protective instinct.

Dawn light began filtering through the cave entrance. Xara murmured something in her sleep, her brow furrowing. One of the pups nestled closer, its tiny body vibrating with comfort.

He needed to hunt. Needed space to clear his head.

He carefully lifted the sleeping pup from his lap and placed it on the bed. The creature squeaked in protest, its tiny paws reaching for him. He stared at it, perplexed by its reaction. Nothing reached for him. Nothing sought his touch.

Xara was still slumped against the wall and after a brief hesitation, he reached down and picked her up, cradling her gently against his chest. He froze, his heart pounding, waiting for her to wake and protest.

Instead, she sighed softly and nestled against him, her soft curves melting against his chest. His senses were flooded with her scent, her warmth. A strange, possessive satisfaction surged through him, and his tendrils coiled around her, their touch almost possessive.

The remaining Graxlin pups awoke and scurried after him as he strode towards the bed.

With great care, he deposited her there.

Her eyes blinked open and she gazed up at him, her hazel eyes sleepy and content.

One of his sensory tendrils reached towards her, gently stroking her cheek, and she made a soft, contented sound before her eyes closed again.

The smallest pup immediately nestled against her stomach and he tucked the other two next to it before covering them with one of his furs.

With silent footsteps, he moved toward the cave entrance, pausing only once to look back at the sleeping forms huddled together on his bed. Something primal and possessive flared in his chest at the sight.

Mine to protect.

He snarled at the thought and plunged into the jungle.

The crimson foliage parted silently before him as he moved through the predawn shadows. This was his territory—every tree, every hollow, every hunting ground. He knew where prey gathered at this hour, knew which predators to avoid and which to confront.

Yet today, his usual hunt-focus eluded him. His thoughts kept circling back to the cave. To her.

She didn’t belong here. No soft creature could survive this place. The planet had been quarantined for good reason—it consumed the weak. Stripped away pretense. Left only the brutal truth of survival.

He climbed silently up into the canopy, his claws finding purchase in the rough bark.

From this height, he could see the faint glow of the Tal’shai village in the distance.

They were the only other sentient species that had adapted to survive here.

They appeared harmless enough but they were fiercely territorial and quite capable of defending their territory.

They preferred to avoid confrontation but if she had accidentally stumbled into their territory. ..

He shook his head sharply, dislodging the thought. Below him, a herd of six-legged herbivores moved cautiously through the underbrush. Larger than the jikari, they would provide enough meat to last several days.

He dropped from the tree with lethal precision, landing on the largest of the herd. It was over in seconds—a clean kill, merciful by this planet’s standards. He hoisted the carcass onto his shoulders, its weight nothing to his enhanced strength.

As he made his way back toward the cave, his mind returned to the Graxlin pups. Their attachment to Xara made sense—Graxlins were empathic creatures, drawn to compatible energy signatures. They imprinted easily on those who showed them kindness, even if that was not common on this planet.

But why had they reached for him? His energy signature was designed for war, not nurturing. He was a weapon, not a protector.

Yet the smallest one had climbed into his lap without hesitation and had fallen asleep against him, trusting and vulnerable.

Trust. The concept was as foreign to him as mercy had once been.

When he reached the cave entrance, he paused, listening. Soft breathing, the occasional chirp from a dreaming pup. They were still asleep.

He moved silently inside, depositing his kill near the fire pit. Xara had shifted in her sleep. One pup nestled against her neck, its pale lavender fur stark against her brown skin. Another curled against her stomach, rising and falling with each breath she took.

The third, the smallest one, had escaped from the bed and crawled into the curved depression in the rock where he usually sat. It was his place—worn smooth from years of vigilant watches. Yet the tiny creature had claimed it, curled into a ball with its markings pulsing gently.

Something uncomfortable twisted in his chest. The pup had sought out his scent, his presence, even in his absence.

He approached the sleeping female cautiously, his steps making no sound on the stone floor. Up close, the wound on her leg looked better—the healing moss was working. Her face was relaxed in sleep, unguarded. Vulnerable.

One of his sensory tendrils extended without conscious command, reaching toward her face. He should have pulled it back—instead, he watched as it gently brushed her cheek, absorbing the warmth and softness of her skin, the subtle electrical patterns of her brain in sleep.

She made a soft sound, almost a sigh, and turned her face toward the touch.

His entire body went rigid. No one sought his touch. No one leaned into contact with him. He was a monster, a beast, a weapon. But first the pup and now Xara had turned to him.

He forced himself to withdraw the tendril and turned to the fire pit. He quietly built up the fire, then butchered the carcass before arranging the meat on a smoking rack. The smoke would preserve it, keeping it edible for days. She would need to eat when she woke.

Why did he care so much if she ate? Why did he care if she lived or died?

He had no answer that didn’t disturb him.

The meat secured, he cast one last look at his sleeping female and the pups. The sight tugged at something deep within him—something that had no place in what he’d become.

He turned and slipped back into the jungle, moving deeper into the wild territory beyond his usual hunting grounds. He needed to put distance between himself and the cave. Between himself and these unfamiliar urges.

But even as he ran, silent and deadly through the crimson undergrowth, he knew it was futile. Some invisible tether kept pulling his thoughts back to the cave. To her. To the strange, unsettling feeling of having something to protect rather than something to destroy.

He had survived on this planet by embracing his nature—the lethal purpose for which he was created. He’d accepted his exile, his solitude, his role as predator rather than prey.

Now, with her arrival, those carefully constructed boundaries were crumbling. The beast was still there, coiled and ready beneath his skin. But something else stirred alongside it—something he’d thought long dead.

He paused at the edge of a cliff overlooking the vast, hostile landscape. In the distance, the twisted spires of an ancient ruin pierced the crimson canopy—remnants of the Tal’Shai’s original civilization, long abandoned now.

He should leave her to find her own way. Should retreat to one of his other shelters, let her heal, and then disappear. It would be safer. Smarter. Yet even as he considered it, he knew he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. The tether was already too strong, pulling him back towards the cave with every breath.

Back towards her.

The realization should have angered him. Instead, it settled into his bones with the weight of inevitability. Whatever happened next, he was bound to her fate now. And that binding was as terrifying as it was inexplicable.

With a silent snarl, he turned and began making his way back to the cave, already calculating the most efficient route, already listening for threats that might emerge between him and his?—

No. Not his. She wasn’t his anything.

But the denial rang hollow even in his own mind as he moved through the jungle with renewed purpose, drawn back to the cave where she slept.

Drawn back to her.