Nope. Not liking him at all.
But I’m definitely about to get eaten alongside him, which is more intimacy than I’ve had in years, so there’s that.
The shadow creatures have begun to move again, slinking toward us with a fluid grace that’s both beautiful and terrifying. They’re too far away to make out details, but I can see now they’re a lot like wolves. Or hyenas maybe. Except their bodies are sleek and low to the ground, and there’s no fur—just scales or plates that catch the light as they move.
“Rok,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper as my fingers find his chest again. I can feel the rapid beating of his heart. “Run. We need to run.”
But he’s not looking at me. His eyes are fixed on the approaching creatures, and there’s a look in them I haven’t seen before. Not fear. Something darker, more primitive.
Rage.
Before I can say anything else, he’s setting me down, too fast for it to be careful, too controlled for it to be careless. I stumble as my shoes hit the sand, momentarily disoriented after being carried for so long.
“Wait, what are you doing?” I sputter, grabbing at his arm. “Don’t put me down now! This isn’t the time to start listening to me! Pick me back up!”
The screeching of the creatures turns to clicking, a staccato rhythm that sounds almost like communication. They’re closer now, close enough that I can see they have no eyes that I can discern—just smooth, elongated heads that end in what look like circular mouths ringed with teeth.
Yeah, hell to the fucking no.
“Rok, please,” I say, real fear creeping into my voice. “We need to go up. High. Like before. They can’t climb, right?”
He ignores me, pushing me behind him with one powerful arm. Then he drops into a crouch that looks disturbingly like he’s about to run—not away from the creatures, but toward them.
On all fours.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, trying to move around to face him. “We need to run away, not toward them!”
He snarls again, using his arm to push me back with enough force that I stumble. His eyes dart to me, and the look in them chills me to the bone. It’s not just a warning—it’s a command.
Run.
He grunts, a deep sound from his throat, and pushes me again, harder this time.
And suddenly I understand what he’s doing. He’s going to fight them. All five of them. While I escape.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No way. I’m not leaving you to—”
One of the shadow creatures suddenly darts forward, faster than seems possible, and the others follow in a wave of dark, scaled bodies.
Rok tenses, the air stills, and then he’s moving, launching himself toward the creatures with a speed and power that takes my breath away.
Fear and adrenaline spike through me, and before I know what I’m doing, my legs are moving, carrying me away from the impending clash. The sand shifts beneath my feet, making running difficult, but terror is one hell of a motivator.
I glance over my shoulder. What I see stops me dead in my tracks.
“ROK!” I scream his name, watching in horror as he collides with the first of the shadow creatures, his body slamming into it with enough force that sand explodes around them.
I skid to a stop, my heart in my throat, unable to look away from the nightmare unfolding before me. Rok is a blur of motion, his claws slashing, his teeth bared in a snarl as he grapples with the creature.
The others circle, clicking and hissing, looking for an opening.
“ROK!” I scream again, my voice breaking with fear.
And then I feel it—a tremor beneath my feet, so slight I might have imagined it if I hadn’t been standing perfectly still.
Another tremor, stronger this time. Breaths heavy in my throat, I only have a moment to look down. The sand around my feet shifts, as if something beneath it is moving.
I’ve just enough time to draw a single, terrified breath before the ground beneath me tilts and gives way, and I’m falling, tumbling, sliding down into darkness as the sand swallows me whole.
Chapter 15
SAND IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES
JUSTINE
I’m falling.
Sand pours in around me, over me, a suffocating avalanche that fills my screaming mouth, my nose, my eyes. It’s in my ears, under my clothes, everywhere.
I try to scream again, but more sand rushes in, scratching my throat, choking me.
Close your mouth, idiot! Close your eyes!
The thought comes from some distant, rational part of my brain that isn’t consumed by blind panic. I clamp my mouth shut, squeeze my eyes closed, but it’s almost too late—I’m already half-suffocated, half-blinded by grit.
And still, I’m sliding down what feels like a shaft in the sand. My hands flail, trying to grab on to something, anything, but there’s nothing solid, just more sand, endless sand.
Then, suddenly, I stop.
The impact knocks what little breath I have left out of my lungs. For a terrifying moment, I can’t move, can’t breathe, can only lie there with sand pressing in from all sides.
I’m going to die here. I’m going to suffocate in a sand trap alone, and no one will ever find me.
But then I realize something—I’m not completely buried. There’s space around me. I can feel it, a pocket of air. Half my body is stuck in sand, but I’m not entombed.
I force myself to be still, to calm the ragged gasping of my breath. Carefully, I wiggle my right arm, which seems to be the only limb not weighed down by sand. It moves freely. Good. That’s good.
With trembling fingers, I brush the sand from my face—my eyes first, then my mouth and nose. I spit out what feels like half the desert, coughing and gagging at the gritty taste. And don’t even get me started on my eyes.
It’s like someone decided to shovel an entire beach into them and then stir it around for good measure. They’re watering so much I’m probably crying mud at this point. I rub at them uselessly, only managing to smear the grit around. Perfect. Now I’m blind and exfoliated.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to will the burning away, and focus instead on what I can feel. That’s when I notice it—the air is different here. Cooler.
Not cold, but a stark contrast to the blistering heat above. The sand I’m partially buried in is cool to the touch, untouched by the sun’s relentless glare.
Finally, I crack my eyes open, blinking through the lingering grit.
I’m in darkness, but not complete darkness. Above me, maybe fifteen feet up, I can see a jagged hole where sunlight filters through—the surface I just fell through. The light is faint but enough to see that I’m in some kind of…tunnel?
“Rok?” I call, my voice hoarse from sand and fear. My throat burns, but I can’t stop myself. “ROK!”
No answer, but then I hear the muffled sounds of growls and snarls from above. The shadow creatures. The battle. Rok, fighting them all.