“It’s gone,” I finally admit, sitting back on my heels. A hollow feeling spreads through my chest. “It’s really gone.”
My gaze shifts to the alien. Still crouched nearby, he’d helped me look. Somehow, he’d noted my distress and without a word, he’d kneeled beside me, methodically brushing through the sand even though he had no idea what I was searching for, only that it’s obviously important to me. As if my distress alone was reason enough to help.
Now, still watching me with those unnerving golden eyes, he makes a low rumbling sound that almost feels sympathetic.
I brush angrily at the tears threatening to spill over. This is stupid. It’s just an earring. A tiny piece of glass. It shouldn’t matter so much, especially not here, where I’m stranded with much bigger problems to worry about.
But it does matter. And the loss of it feels like losing her all over again.
I take a deep breath and force myself to stand. Sitting here crying won’t find the earring, and it won’t get me back to Jacqui and the others.
“I have to go,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “They’ll be looking for me.”
I move to my small pack—which is really just my handbag—checking the meager supplies inside. One water packet left. Two more emergency biscuits. Not much, but it’ll have to do. I’d lost the emergency blanket somewhere in the desert, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.
“Okay,” I say, more to myself than to him. “That’s it. Time to hit the road.”
I sling the bag over my shoulder and turn toward the cave entrance. The alien is still watching me, his expression unreadable as I make my way past him.
I’m almost to the entrance when something large blocks my path. Him. He’s moved with that unsettling speed again, positioning himself between me and the exit.
“Excuse me,” I say, trying to step around him. “I need to go.”
He doesn’t budge.
“Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done. Really. You saved my life, and that’s…well, that’s a pretty big deal. But I have people waiting for me. People who are probably thinking I’m dead right now.”
I try again to move past him, but he shifts, still blocking my way. His eyes have narrowed, and the glow beneath his skin has intensified—pulsing like a warning signal—and for a crazy moment, I want to reach out and touch him again, feel that strange ripple under my fingers. Then I mentally slap myself. No, not helpful.
“Seriously?” I throw up my hands in frustration. “What is your problem? I need to leave!”
He makes a low, rumbling sound—not quite a growl, but definitely not approval either.
“Move,” I say, trying to make my voice firm despite the frustration and fear bubbling up inside me. “Please.”
Nothing. He might as well be a statue, an immovable wall of muscle and stubbornness.
“Fine. If you won’t move, I’ll just…” I feint left, then dart right, trying to slip past him.
No luck. He’s too fast, his reflexes too sharp. His arm shoots out, gently but firmly blocking my path.
“Okay, listen up, big guy,” I snap. All patience has—poof—gone. “You can’t keep me here! I don’t belong to you. I don’t belong here!”
My voice cracks on the last word, and to my horror, I feel tears welling up again. It’s all too much—the lost earring, the unnervingly attractive alien refusing to let me leave, the growing fear that I might never see Jacqui or home again.
“Please,” I say, the fight draining out of me. “Just let me go.”
For a long moment, he stares at me, those golden eyes searching my face as if he’s trying to decipher what I’m feeling. Then, with a sound that reminds me of a long-suffering sigh, he steps aside.
Relief floods through me. “Thank you,” I breathe, hurrying past him before he can change his mind.
I step out of the cave, squinting in the bright morning sunlight, ready to begin the long trek back to where I last saw the others.
And that’s when the world seems to fall away beneath my feet.
“Holy shit!”
I scramble backward, nearly colliding with the alien who’s followed me out. My hands find the rough stone of the cave entrance, gripping it for support as I stare out at…nothing. Just open air and a drop that makes my stomach lurch.
We’re not on the ground. Not even close. The cave is set into the side of a towering rock formation, a jagged spire that rises hundreds of feet above the desert floor. Below us stretches an endless sea of sand, rippling like water in the morning light. The sun is just cresting the horizon, painting the desert in shades of gold and amber, and from this height, I can see for miles in every direction.
It’s breathtaking. And terrifying.
“We’re on a cliff,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “A really, really high cliff.”
I turn to the alien, who’s watching me with that intensity again.
“You carried me up here,” I realize. “Last night. When we were running from those things. I felt you climbing, but I didn’t realize we were going up a freaking mountain.”
He makes that rumbling sound again, and now I’m certain it’s the alien equivalent of a chuckle.
“This isn’t funny!” But even as I say it, a hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. “Oh my god, I was about to waltz right off a cliff.”
I peer over the edge again, trying to see a path down. There’s nothing but sheer rock face, with occasional ledges and outcroppings that might be handholds for someone with claws and superhuman strength, but certainly not for a clumsy human like me.
“Okay,” I say, trying to keep the panic from my voice. “Okay. This is…this is a problem. A big problem. I need to get down from here, but unless you’ve got a parachute hidden somewhere—which, let’s be honest, would look ridiculous on you—I’m going to need your help.”
The alien tilts his head, watching me with that intense focus that still makes my skin prickle.
“Do you understand? I need to go.” I point down at the desert floor, then at myself. “Me. Go. Down. To find my people.”
He doesn’t move, doesn’t react. Just keeps staring at me with those unnerving golden eyes.
“Okay, let’s try something else.” I take a deep breath and resort to the universal language of desperate humans—charades. I point to myself, then down at the ground far below. When he doesn’t react, I frown. “Fuck this.” Crouching down, I resort to my less-than-stellar art skills and start drawing in the thin layer of sand near the cave entrance.
With my finger, I sketch out a crude landscape—a wavy line for the horizon, the spiry shape of the rock formation that I’d set out to reach first, and a stick figure with wild hair that’s supposed to be me. I point to the stick figure, then to myself, then to the rock formations.
“I need to go there,” I say slowly, tapping the drawing. “Back to where I came from. To my friends. You know, other people like me? Smaller than you, not glowy, probably sunburned and freaking out right now?”
The alien crouches beside me, studying my childlike drawing with such intense focus that I half expect him to critique my artistic skills. His expression shifts, his brow furrowing in what looks like confusion. Or is it disgust? Anger? It’s hard to tell with a face that’s not quite human.
“Please,” I try again. “I need your help to get down from here.”
He makes a sound—harsher than before, almost like a snarl—rises and turns away from me, heading back toward the cave entrance.
“Hey!” I follow after him. “Don’t you walk away from me! You brought me up here. You’re responsible for getting me down!”
He stops so suddenly I nearly run into his back. When he turns to face me, there’s something new in his expression—something that makes me take an involuntary step backward.