Then, I hear it.
Small, unsteady footsteps echo at the entrance of the dark tunnel.
I open my eyes. Eh-ree-kah is standing in the shadows. She followed me.
She shouldn’t be here. She should be as far away from my unstable being as possible. I need to order her back to the fire pit. I need to walk away.
But I don’t move. She takes another step toward me, and the dim light catches her face.
Her skin is a terrifying, ashen grey. She sways dangerously on her feet.
“Kol,” she whispers. It is a small, broken sound. Deep, breathless, and wrong.
The gravitational pull on my chest yanks me forward. I am across the tunnel before my conscious brain even registers that I am moving.
Her eyes roll back in her head and her knees buckle.
She falls forward into the empty air.
I let out an involuntary roar of pure, feral terror that shakes a cloud of abrasive dust from the jagged ceiling.
I lunge.
I catch her before she hits the unforgiving stone floor. One arm sweeps behind her waist, my other claw bracing her narrow shoulders, crushing her against my chest.
She weighs nothing.
Her skin is burning with a severe, terrifying fire. The planet sickness. Xiraxis’ rejection. It has returned. Stronger. And I cannot help but fear that I am the cause. That putting my lips on her, tasting her salt, has thrown her fragile human system into shock.
I do not hesitate.
I turn and carry her limp, burning body straight into the deep, shadowed privacy of my own isolated alcove.
I carefully set her down on the predator hides covering my stone shelf. She shakes intensely, her teeth chattering against the biting cold of the rock.
I climb onto the wide shelf beside her, lie down on my side, and pull her shaking body directly against mine. I wrap my arms, my broad thighs, and my scorching skin entirely around her freezing frame.
She curls tightly against my chest.
She acts on pure instinct, seeking the hottest source of heat in the dark cave. She buries her face into the curve of my chest. She buries her small fist deeply into the hide strip crossing my torso, pressing her pale knuckles directly over my franticdra-kir.
The burning fire radiating from her soft skin crashes against the brutal, restructuring pain radiating from mine.
I close my eyes. My jaw clamps shut so hard my fangs throb.
The physical contact eases the agonizing pain in my chest. Within clicks, her constant shaking gradually slows. Her breathing evens out into a deep, steady rhythm against my collarbone.
She sleeps.
I do not sleep.
My body stages a revolt.
I am hyper-fixated on every single point of contact. Her warm forehead pressed deeply against my collarbone. The pressure of her small knuckles digging into the hide strap directly over my hammeringdra-kir. The perfect curve of her hip fitting exactly against the unyielding muscle of my thigh. The soft, breathless sigh she makes on the exhale that travels like a vibration straight through my ribs.
The raging hunger tearing through my bloodstream is vivid and consuming.
My body ruthlessly demands I press my hot mouth directly to her skin. It demands I drag my wet tongue along the fragile line of her jaw. It demands I slide my claw up under the edge of her thin hide coverings, map the delicate dip of her spine, and sink my fangs slowly into the tendon of her neck just hard enough to feel her gasp against me.
