“Like Tharn didn’t understand,” I say, watching the other male’s muscular back as he leads us toward the cliffs.
“Yes,” Rok agrees, “but many minds together can be…overwhelming.”
I swallow hard, suddenly aware of what that might mean. If one skeptical Drakav nearly attacked me on sight, what will a whole clan of them do?
“They will not harm you,” Rok adds, obviously sensing my fear. “I will not allow it.”
There’s a fierce certainty in his thoughts that should be comforting, but instead has me worried for him. What would happen if he had to defend me against his entire clan? What would that cost him?
Before I can voice these concerns, Tharn pauses ahead of us, raising his hand in a silent signal. The gesture is so human it momentarily throws me. These beings may look alien, but there’s something fundamentally familiar in the way they move, communicate (well…kind of), and exist.
“Kol awaits,” Tharn projects, his mental voice carrying to both of us. “He has sensed our approach.”
“How?” I wonder, not realizing I’ve broadcasted the thought until both males look at me.
“The clan bond,” Rok explains. “All males are connected. It is how we survive.”
This new piece of information sends my brain into overdrive. They all talk to each other…sense each other…constantly? So together are they like a singular unit, deadly soldiers that don’t even need to relay spoken commands because communication is like…instant?
“Your female thinks very loudly,” Tharn observes, interrupting my mental spiral.
Rok’s chest rumbles with what might be a chuckle. “She does.”
“I’m right here,” I protest, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. In truth, their casual exchange has helped ease some of my tension.
As we approach the base of the tallest cliff, I notice openings scattered across its face—cave entrances, some clearly natural and others that appear to have been deliberately expanded. The setting sun casts them in deep shadow, making it impossible to see within, but I have the distinct feeling of being watched from those dark voids.
Tharn stops at the cliff base, his posture straightening as his eyes close in concentration. Though no sound passes his lips, I sense a powerful mental projection emanating from him—a silent call that seems to ripple through the air around us. The mental energy hangs for a long moment, then fades.
Silence follows, so complete, I can hear my own heartbeat.
Then, movement. Shadows detaching from shadows. Forms emerging from the caves above, scaling down the cliff face with inhuman grace. Others appearing from behind rock formations, rising from what I had thought was bare ground.
Within moments, we’re surrounded by at least twenty Drakav males, their golden eyes gleaming in the fading light, their muscular bodies arranged in a loose circle around us. None approach, but their focus is like a heavy weight bearing down on me from all sides.
“They’re beautiful,” I think involuntarily, struck by the sight of them gathered together. Each one unique in the subtle variations of height and build, the color of their hair, their eyes—yet they’re unmistakably of the same species.
There’s an answering rumble in Rok’s chest, his arms tightening around me in what is nothing but jealousy and possessiveness. I don’t mind. I curl tighter against him, and not a moment too soon.
The circle parts, and a massive figure steps forward. Even among these impressive beings, he stands out—taller than Rok by at least a head, his shoulders broader, his chest deeper. Intricate patterns swirl across his torso and face, more elaborate than those visible on the others.
“Kol,” Rok acknowledges, inclining his head slightly but not bowing or kneeling as I might have expected. His arms remain firmly around me, holding me close to his chest rather than setting me down.
The leader’s eyes fix on me with unnerving intensity. I feel the brush of his mind against mine—harder, rougher than Rok’s gentle touch, like sandpaper compared to silk.
“What is this you bring to our grounds, Rok?” Kol’s mental voice resonates with authority. “Why do you carry a strange male in your arms as if he were a hatchling?”
A ripple of curious thought-whispers moves through the gathered clan. I feel Rok’s frustration spike, but his outward demeanor remains calm.
“Not male,” he corrects firmly. “Female. Not from here. Not from the dust.”
The mental whispers intensify, a buzz of disbelief and wonder that makes my temples throb. Kol steps closer, nostrils flaring as he scents the air around us.
“Set this creature down,” he commands. “Let me see what you claim is female.”
I feel Rok’s reluctance as he slowly lowers me to my feet, but he keeps one arm around my shoulders, his body slightly angled to remain between me and Kol. The protective gesture isn’t lost on the leader, whose face shifts in what might be surprise.
Standing on my own, I’m acutely aware of how small I am compared to these beings. The top of my head barely reaches Rok’s chest, and Kol towers over me like a living mountain. Fighting the urge to shrink back against Rok, I force myself to stand straight, meeting Kol’s gaze directly.
“I am Justine,” I project as clearly as I can, hoping my thoughts reach him. “I came from beyond the stars with others of my kind. Rok saved my life.”
Something in Kol’s eyes changes. Perhaps it’s surprise. Perhaps he thinks I’m lying. He circles me slowly, reminding me how Rok appeared much like a predator assessing potential prey in those first moments when we met. I resist the urge to turn with him, keeping my gaze fixed forward, though every instinct screams to keep the threat in view.
“The daughters of Ain were mighty beings,” Kol thinks, his mental voice dripping with skepticism. “Goddesses. This creature is small. Weak. It has no claws, no fangs.” He reaches toward my face with one massive hand. “Its skin is thin, soft—”
Rok moves faster than I can track, his body suddenly between me and Kol’s outstretched hand. He doesn’t growl or bare his teeth, but his stance is unmistakably defensive.
“She is under my protection,” Rok states, the thought carrying such force that I see several of the surrounding males flinch.
Instead of anger at this challenge, something like curiosity flickers across Kol’s hard features. He withdraws his hand slowly, his gaze moving between Rok and me with fresh interest.
“You have changed, dust-son,” he observes. “Your bearing. Your stance.” His gaze drops pointedly to Rok’s loincloth. “Your covering.”
Several of the clan members shift closer, heads tilting in that now-familiar gesture of curiosity. I realize they’re all noticing what Tharn had pointed out—the physical evidence of Rok’s new anatomy, hidden beneath the crude garment I’d made for him.
“I have changed,” Rok acknowledges simply. “She has changed me.”
The admission sends another wave of mental murmurs through the gathered clan. I catch fragments of their thoughts—disbelief, fascination, jealousy, fear.
“—cannot be female—”
“—look how he guards it—”
“—never seen a male cover his pouch—”
“—what if it is true? What if—”
“—this strange male has many soft parts.”
A lean Drakav pushes forward suddenly. “Let me see this creature,” he demands, reaching for my arm.