Page 69 of Xara and the Xenobeast

The trooper crawled over her, one hand closing around her throat. With the other, they reached up and released the seal on their helmet, pulling it off to reveal a face that was almost human—pale skin, sharp features, eyes that glowed an unnatural blue.

“You think you understand what he is?” the trooper hissed, blood trickling from a gash on their forehead. “He’s a killing machine. That’s all he was ever meant to be.”

Xara struggled for breath, her fingers scrabbling against the trooper’s armored wrist. “He’s... whatever he chooses to be.”

The trooper’s grip tightened. “And you? What are you besides a primitive who stumbled onto something she doesn’t understand?”

From the alcove came a high-pitched shriek. Dot darted out, followed by the other pups. They swarmed the trooper, their tiny claws finding gaps in the armor, their teeth surprisingly sharp as they bit at exposed skin.

The trooper released Xara to bat at the pups, cursing as one latched onto their face. Xara rolled away, gasping for breath. Herhand closed around a jagged piece of fallen rock, and she didn’t hesitate.

She drove it into the back of the trooper’s neck, where the armor didn’t quite meet. Not deep enough to kill, but enough to incapacitate. The trooper went rigid, then collapsed.

Xara scrambled to her feet, gathering the pups to her chest. They chirped and nuzzled against her, their markings pulsing with agitation.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, checking each one for injuries. “You’re safe. We’re all safe.”

A shadow fell across the cave entrance. Xara whirled, rock still clutched in her bloody hand—then froze.

The Xenobeast stood there, silhouetted against the dim light from outside. Blood—some his, some not—covered his torso in dark streaks. A deep gash ran across his chest, and one of his sensory tendrils hung limply. But he was alive. Standing. Victorious.

His silver eyes took in the scene: the fallen trooper, the collapsed ceiling, the heat stones positioned strategically around the entrance. And finally, Xara—bloodied, disheveled, a weapon still gripped in her hand, the pups clustered protectively around her legs.

Something shifted in his gaze. A new awareness. A different kind of respect.

He stepped into the cave, moving with the fluid grace that belied his massive size. He circled the fallen trooper, nudging the body with one clawed foot to ensure they were truly incapacitated.

Then he looked at Xara again, his head tilted slightly. His tendrils reached toward her, brushing against her cheek, her throat where bruises were already forming, then down to the pups who chirped excitedly at his touch.

The look in his eyes wasn’t the possessive pride she’d seen before. It wasn’t even the heated desire that had become familiar. It was something new—a recognition. As if he was seeing her clearly for the first time.

He reached out one massive hand and gently took the rock from her grip, tossing it aside. Then he pulled her against him, careful of his wounds and hers, his tendrils wrapping around them both in a protective embrace.

“You fought,” he said, his voice a low rumble against her ear. It was the first time he’d spoken aloud to her.

Xara nodded against his chest. “Of course I did.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his silver eyes intense. “Not for yourself.”

“For them,” she said, glancing down at the pups. “For you. For us.”

His gaze moved to the fallen trooper, then back to her. There was something new in his expression—a mix of awe and wariness, as if he’d discovered something unexpected and powerful.

“They underestimated you,” he said.

“Everyone does.” She reached up to touch his face, her fingers gentle against a fresh cut on his cheek. “Are there more?”

A savage smile curved his mouth. “Not anymore.”

Relief flooded through her, making her knees weak. The Xenobeast caught her, lifting her effortlessly. The pups scrambled up his legs, finding perches on his shoulders and back as he carried Xara to their bed.

He laid her down carefully, then turned to secure the fallen trooper. Xara watched as he bound the soldier with strips of their own armor, his movements efficient and practiced. When he finished, he returned to her side, lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You’re hurt,” she said, reaching for the gash on his chest.

He caught her hand, his grip gentle but firm. “So are you.”

The pups settled around them, chirping softly as they nestled into the furs. One by one, their glow markings dimmed as they drifted to sleep, exhausted by the ordeal.

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