Page 40 of Xara and the Xenobeast

As darkness claimed him again, it wasn’t the cold void of unconsciousness, but something warmer. Safer. The nightmare voices were silent, replaced by the gentle sounds of Xara humming softly and the pups’ soft chirps.

For the first time since he could remember, he allowed himself to be vulnerable in another’s presence. To accept comfort. To trust that when he woke, she would still be there, keeping watch.

And she was.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Two days later, Xara woke before dawn. Ash slept beside her, his breathing deep and even, one arm flung protectively across her waist. She touched his forehead, checking for fever, but his skin was cool. His wounds were already healing—faster than any human’s would—but she could still see the angry dark lines across his ribs.

She slipped carefully from beneath his arm, smiling as he growled softly in his sleep but didn’t wake. The pups were curled together at his side, tiny chests rising and falling in perfect synchronicity.

She’d thought she heard the sound of water a few days ago and she was determined to track it down, hoping for a more abundant source than the small trickle of spring water. With Ash recovering and the pups sleeping soundly, this was the perfect time.

Grabbing a makeshift torch from their supply pile, she lit it from the embers of last night’s fire and made her way toward the passage. It was narrow but not cramped, the walls smooth as if worn by water over millennia. The air grew cooler as shedescended, carrying a faint mineral scent that reminded her of limestone caves back on Earth.

The torch cast dancing shadows on the walls, and as she moved deeper, she noticed markings etched into the stone. Not random scratches, but deliberate patterns—glyphs of some kind. She traced her fingers over them, feeling the precise indentations.

These weren’t natural formations. Someone—or something—had created them.

The markings became more elaborate as she continued, evolving from simple geometric patterns into complex pictographs. Some depicted what appeared to be tall, slender creatures with elongated limbs and large, compound eyes—unmistakably similar to the sketch Ash had drawn of the Tal’Shai.

“So this was their place once,” she murmured, fascinated.

One panel showed the Tal’Shai gathered around what looked like thermal vents, their hands extended toward the heat. Another depicted them cultivating strange, bulbous plants that seemed to glow. A third showed them communicating with other species—including one that looked suspiciously like the pups.

The history of an entire civilization, written in stone.

Her torch flickered, the flame guttering in a gentle breeze that shouldn’t exist this deep underground. Curious, she followed the draft, the tunnel widening as she walked. The sound reached her before the sight did—a soft, rhythmic lapping of water against stone.

The passage opened into a chamber that took her breath away. A natural spring filled most of the cavern, its surface glassy and still except where a small waterfall trickled down from a crackin the ceiling. Bioluminescent fungi clung to the walls, bathing everything in a soft purple glow that made the torch almost unnecessary.

Steam rose from the water’s surface—a hot spring, then. The air was humid and warm, a welcome change from the cool dampness of the tunnel.

She wedged her torch into a crack in the wall and approached the edge of the pool. She dipped her fingers in and sighed at the perfect temperature—hot enough to soothe tired muscles, but not scalding.

When was the last time she’d had a proper bath? The small basin of cool water she used for washing in the main cave was functional but hardly luxurious.

She glanced back toward the tunnel entrance. Ash would likely sleep for hours yet, and the pups rarely stirred before he did.

Decision made, she stripped quickly, laying her clothes on a dry rock ledge. The water welcomed her with silky warmth as she slipped in, enveloping her body in blessed heat. She dunked her head, running her fingers through her curls to work out the tangles, then surfaced with a contented sigh.

The pool was deeper than it looked—deep enough that she had to tread water in the center, though natural stone shelves around the edges provided convenient places to sit. She made her way to one such shelf and leaned back against the smooth rock wall, letting the heat seep into her muscles.

Her thoughts drifted back to Ash—to the way he’d spoken to her during his fever, to the vulnerability he’d shown. To the way his silver eyes tracked her movements, lingering on her curves whenhe thought she wasn’t looking. Each time the heat between them built, he pulled away, as if afraid of his own desires.

She understood his hesitation. He’d been created as a weapon, trained to destroy. The gentleness he showed her and the pups was a rebellion against everything he’d been programmed to be.

But she’d seen beyond the fearsome exterior to the male beneath—the one who chose mercy over murder, who cared for orphaned alien babies, who treated her with a reverence that made her heart ache.

A soft sound from the tunnel entrance snapped her from her reverie.

He stood there, silver eyes gleaming in the dim light, his big body filling the passage. His hungry gaze was fixed on her.

“Hi,” she said softly, making no move to cover herself. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He took a step into the chamber, his movements careful, favoring his injured side. “You didn’t.”

His voice still sent a thrill through her—deep and rough from disuse, but beautiful in its rarity.

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