Mine.
The word settles into me with a weight that should be alarming, but instead feels right. Inevitable, even. There is no undoing this. It simply is. Like the sky. Like the dust. She does not know it yet, but she is no longer alone. She will never be alone again.
I move to her side, studying the terrain as she is. The dust offers little in the way of landmarks, but I know these lands well. I have hunted them since I was barely out of the Giving Stone.
She will need water soon. Food. Shelter from Ain, who is already climbing higher, its heat intensifying with each passing moment. The cave was safe, but she will not return there willingly. Not when she is so determined to head to the rival clan’s territory.
I make a decision. If I cannot convince her to stay where it is safe, then I will go with her. I will guide her through the dust, keep her from the dangers she cannot see, cannot understand.
I will keep her alive, this strange, soft creature who has somehow spoken my name aloud and made it sound like something precious.
“Rok,” she says, and I turn to find her watching me, her head tilted slightly to one side. There is something in her expression—uncertainty, perhaps, or vulnerability—that makes me want to reach for her, to draw her against me as I did when I held her all through the dark. To press my face to her and breathe in her scent. To taste the salt on her skin.
But I do not. I stand, unyielding as my name, and wait for her to show me where she wishes to go.
She points toward a distant ridge, the pale spire of stone barely visible against the hazy horizon. “I think that’s where we need to go. That looks like the place where…” She hesitates, then waves her hand dismissively. “Well, it doesn’t matter what I think it looks like. It’s the only landmark I can see, so it’s our best bet.”
I follow her gaze, recognizing the formation. The Ridge of Shrieking Winds, we Drakav call it in our thoughts. A place where no living creature lingers long…and the last place I would take one I intend to keep alive.
It is a dangerous place, where the sand whips sharp enough to flay skin from bone, where the narrow passages between the stones amplify the howling of the wind until it can drive even the hardiest hunter to madness.
She starts walking toward it without hesitation, her stride determined despite the way her feet sink awkwardly into the sand, even with those strange shields she wears on them.
I do not move.
She takes several steps before noticing that I am not following. She turns, her face pinched as those piercing eyes find mine.
“Well, are you coming?” she calls, gesturing toward the ridge.
I remain where I stand, feeling the heat of the sand beneath my feet, sensing the danger that awaits in those distant ridges. No hunter would willingly approach the Shrieking Winds. Not alone. Not without preparation. And certainly not with a fragile, defenseless female in tow.
She must be protected at all cost. Not put in danger.
“Rok?” she says my name again and my glow reacts as if called, too. “Well?”
I tilt my head, trying to convey without words or shared thoughts that the path she has chosen leads only to death. But she cannot hear me, cannot feel the warning I am projecting with all my strength.
She looks back toward the deadly ridges, then to me again, a sigh escaping her lips. “I have to go, Rok. If you weren’t here, that’s where I’d be heading to.”
Her expression hardens suddenly, eyes narrowing. “But wait, I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t trap me on a cliff. Granted, it was to save my life,” she crosses her arms, pushing up those soft gourd-shaped protrusions on her chest, “so you get a pass for that.”
I understand the frustration in her voice, if not her words. She is worried.
She turns again, taking a few determined steps toward the Shrieking Winds. Then she stops, her shoulders slumping slightly. She does not look back at me as she speaks, but something in her posture, in the sudden softness of her voice, makes my dra-kir ache.
“I guess this is goodbye then, Rok. And…” Her shoulders slump. “Thank you.”
Her tone. The resignation. The disappointment. The touch of sadness. It all cuts deeper than any sandfin could. She intends to leave. To walk into death, alone.
I will not allow it.
She huffs and begins walking again, her stride stiff. I let her take three more steps before I move, closing the distance between us in just two strides.
I catch her easily, lifting her off her feet and into my arms. Her body is lighter than it should be, fragile bones wrapped in soft skin, nothing like the dense, armored forms of the Drakav. She fits against my chest as if made to be there.
Her vocalizations turn sharp, piercing. I do not need to understand her words to know she is not happy with me. Her small hands push against my chest, ineffectual but insistent.
I ignore her protests. I will bear her anger, her resentment, her futile struggles. I will bear anything if it means keeping her alive.
I turn away from the deadly ridges, carrying her toward the safety of the eastern caves. She will not understand. She will fight me. But she will live.
And perhaps, in time, she will understand that I could not let her walk to her death simply because she could not hear the warnings in my mind.
Chapter 14
DESERT RAGE IS JUST HOTTER KIDNAPPING
JUSTINE
“Put me down! Right now! This is the second time you’ve kidnapped me, you giant glowy asshole!”
I’m pounding my fists against his chest, which is about as effective as hitting a brick wall with a marshmallow. My knuckles are going to be bruised, and he doesn’t even seem to notice.
“I said put me DOWN!” I kick my legs, which just results in his arms tightening around me. “Don’t you dare squeeze me like a tube of toothpaste—I swear I will bite you!”
Rok—because apparently that’s his name—continues striding across the desert as if I weigh nothing at all. His face is set in that same impassive expression, golden eyes fixed on the horizon, completely ignoring my tantrum.
Because that’s what this is, if I’m being honest. A full-blown, toddler-level tantrum. And it’s getting me exactly nowhere.
“You know what?” I say, finally going limp in his arms. “Fine. Take me wherever you want. I’m not wasting any more energy on this.”
He glances down at me, one eyebrow raised in what might be surprise or skepticism.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m conserving my strength for when you finally put me down and I can run away properly.”
He makes that rumbling sound again—definitely laughter—and continues his relentless march away from the direction I think I need to go in. Because let’s face it. I’m lost. And Rok here, doesn’t seem interested in helping me get back.
I let my head fall back against his arm, staring up at the yellow sky. It’s starting to really sink in that I’m on another planet. Actually, legitimately on another planet.
“This is fine,” I mutter. “Everything is going to be fine.”