Page 10 of Xara and the Xenobeast

Perhaps it was simply that she posed no threat. She wasn’t Zarkari, wasn’t part of the military complex that had created him, used him, then discarded him when he refused to slaughterinnocents. She was just... lost, as he had been when they first exiled him here.

Or perhaps it was the way she’d protected the Graxlin pups. A predator would have seen them as easy prey. She had seen them as lives to be preserved, even at a cost to herself. The concept was... familiar. Resonant.

The jikari’s trail led to a small clearing where several of the creatures grazed on phosphorescent fungi. He selected his target—a young male, separate from the herd—and struck with lethal precision. His claws severed the spinal cord at the base of the skull, granting a quick, painless death.

As he hoisted the carcass onto his shoulders, another realization struck him. For the first time in years, he’d be returning to his cave with someone waiting for him. Someone who spoke, who asked questions, who looked at him with eyes that held fear but also intelligence, even gratitude.

The thought quickened his pace as he headed back through the jungle, the jikari’s weight nothing to his enhanced strength.

When he reached the cave entrance, he paused, scanning the interior. Xara remained on the bed where he’d left her, though she’d shifted position to accommodate the pups. They were curled against her, their tiny bodies rising and falling with peaceful breaths.

She looked up as he entered, those expressive eyes widening at the sight of his kill. He detected no disgust in her reaction—just surprise, and perhaps relief.

He carried the jikari to the stone slab he used for butchering. With practiced efficiency, he skinned and dressed the creature, separating meat from bone, edible organs from waste.

As he worked, his awareness remained fixed on her presence. On her scent. On the sound of her breathing and the Graxlin pups’ contented chirps. On the way the firelight played across her features, highlighting the curve of her cheek, the fullness of her lips.

He caught himself staring and turned abruptly away, focusing on the task at hand. This fascination was... inconvenient. Potentially dangerous. He needed to maintain distance. Control.

When he’d finished butchering his kill, he selected a choice cut of meat—tender, with a good balance of fat and protein—and approached the bed. He extended his hand, offering the food, but she hesitated, her eyes moving from the meat to his face and back again.

A faint growl escaped him, impatience mingling with concern. She needed to eat. To regain strength. Why did she hesitate?

He held out the meat again, and she sighed. Her fingers brushed his as she cautiously took the meat, and the brief contact sent a strange current through his body along with a sense of satisfaction. He had proven himself a worthy hunter.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Xara’s stomach lurched as she took the glistening piece of flesh, slick and warm in her hand. Her savior obviously wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Perhaps she should have escaped while she’d had the chance.

She’d considered it when he’d stalked out of the cave and disappeared into the jungle, his movements fluid and predatory despite his size. One moment he filled the cave entrance with his massive presence, the next he was gone—swallowed by shadows and crimson foliage.

Despite the sense of safety she felt in his presence, she was only too aware of his size and strength. His orders so far had been for her protection, but what if that changed?

But then she’d glanced down at her bandaged leg. The moss dressing felt cool against her skin, the pain dulled to a persistent throb. Whatever he’d applied to the wound seemed to be working, but she doubted she could make it far on her own. And even if she could, where would she go? The shuttle was wrecked, the landscape hostile, and more of those insect-things were probably out there.

The alien babies squeaked, their luminescent markings pulsing as they nuzzled against her side. Three pairs of oversized eyes gazed up at her, somehow trusting despite everything.

“What do you guys think?” she asked them. “Should we make a break for it?”

The smallest one chirped and climbed into lap, settling against her stomach with a contented sigh.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She sank back onto the bed, wincing as her injured leg protested. “It’s not like we’d get far anyway.”

And the cave was surprisingly comfortable—clean and dry, with the fire pit in the center and what looked like primitive storage areas carved into the walls. It wasn’t the lair of a mindless beast, but the home of something—someone—with intelligence.

Not that intelligence made him less fearsome—if anything it only made him more dangerous. But he hasn’t hurt me, she reminded herself.

She was half-asleep when he returned, something large and multi-limbed slung over his shoulder. Blood dripped from the carcass, leaving a dark trail behind him, and she swallowed hard, praying she’d made the right decision to remain.

He dropped his prey onto a flat stone with a wet thud, and her stomach churned again as she noted the stains indicating past kills. She watched, transfixed, as he set to work—claws slicing through hide and sinew with practiced precision. His movements were economical, almost graceful despite their brutality.

When he’d finished, he selected a piece of raw, bloody meat and approached her, growling when she refused, and she’d been forced to take it.

Now he watched her, those silver eyes unblinking, as he waited for her to eat. Instead, she looked around desperately for something to cook it with.

A variety of vegetation supported the moss on the bed platform and she pulled out the sturdiest stick she could find, doing her best to skewer the meat on it before she held it over the fire pit.

“I can’t eat it raw—it needs to be cooked.”

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