Page 7 of Xara and the Xenobeast

Firelight danced across rough stone walls. She was in a cave, lying on what felt like a bed of moss tucked against one wall of the cave. Looking down, she saw three little bodies curled against her—the alien babies, their bioluminescent markings pulsing softly as they slept. One made a tiny chirping sound, burrowing closer to her warmth.

Some kind of silvery fur covered her lower half and she pushed it back to inspect the wounds on her leg—her bare leg. Her pants had disappeared although thankfully her panties were still in place. The wounds were covered with patches of dark purple—some kind of moss—held in place by neat strips of dark fiber. The bleeding had stopped, and though it hurt, the searing pain from before had dulled to a manageable throb.

The gash across her ribs felt better as well and when she lift her shirt—also thankfully still in place—it was also covered with more of the purple moss and wide strips of the black fiber. She touched them thoughtfully, recognizing that odd texture, and deciding they must be derived from the bark of the crimson-leaved trees that dominated the jungle.

A sound from the dimness beyond the firelight made her freeze, peering anxiously into the shadows. As her eyes adjusted she caught a glimpse of another cave and a curtain of vines that trembled as if in response to an unfelt breeze. Her breath caught in her throat as something massive shifted in the shadows.

Silver eyes gleamed in the darkness—the eyes from her fragmented memory—the ones she’d seen right before consciousness slipped away.

The fire crackled, sending sparks upward, briefly illuminating a hulking silhouette. Broad shoulders. Powerful arms ending in clawed hands. A face with sharp, predatory features.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. This male had saved her from the predator. He’d carried her here and tended her wounds. Logic told her she should feel grateful, not terrified. But logic had little to do with the instinctive fear that crawled up her spine as those silver eyes watched her from the darkness. Her savior or her captor? Or both?

She swallowed hard.

“Hello?” Her voice came out weak and uncertain.

The figure didn’t respond, didn’t move closer. Just watched, utterly still in a predatory way that reminded her of a jaguar she’d once observed during fieldwork in the Amazon—patient, calculating, lethal.

One of the babies stirred against her stomach, making a soft trilling sound. The tiny creature blinked up at her with enormous eyes, then stretched, its claws pricking gently through her torn shirt.

“Hey, little one,” she whispered, stroking its head with a finger. The baby chirped, pressing into her touch.

The fire popped loudly, and her gaze snapped back to the shadows. The silver eyes had moved closer, but still remained beyond the circle of firelight.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to test her boundaries. Slowly, wincing at the pain in her leg, she pushed herself up to a sitting position. The babies tumbled into her lap, squeaking in protest at being disturbed.

The figure in the shadows shifted but made no move to stop her.

Encouraged, she carefully swung her legs over the edge of the bed, testing her weight on her injured leg. Pain shot through her, but it held. Using the wall for support, she pulled herself to her feet, swaying slightly.

Her silent rescuer remained in the shadows, but his eyes tracked every movement and she was suddenly extremely conscious of her bare legs. At least the hem of her torn shirt came down far enough to cover her panties.

Curiosity finally began to edge out fear. If he’d wanted to hurt her, he’d had plenty of opportunity while she was unconscious. Instead, he’d treated her wounds and given her shelter.

The smallest of the babies scampered after her, clutching at her ankle with tiny paws. She bent awkwardly, scooping it up and cradling it against her chest. The other two remained curled on the bed, watching with sleepy eyes.

“I’m just going to look around a bit,” she said, as much to herself as to the silent figure or the baby in her arms. “That’s all.”

Limping heavily, she made her way toward the entrance of the outer cave, one hand on the wall for support. Her leg throbbed with each step, but determination pushed her forward. She needed to know where she was, needed to see what lay beyond these walls.

The hanging vines that surrounded the cave entrance glowed with a soft, ethereal purple light as she pushed them aside and stepped out onto the small ledge. Night air brushed her face, unexpectedly cool after the warmth of the fire. The forest stretched away beneath the ledge, its scarlet foliage glowing under the light of the smallest crimson moon.

There was no discernible sound but the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly prickled. Even before she turned around she knew her rescuer had followed her outside, but she barely managed to stifle a gasp as the moonlight illuminated him.

He was even larger than she’d remembered—at least seven feet tall, with broad shoulders and a body that seemed built for combat with powerful arms and legs, and dark claws on his hands and feet. Muscles rippled beneath skin that gleamed like liquid mercury, strange markings pulsing across his body. Evenstanding at the far end of the small ledge his body loomed over her.

Those extraordinary silver eyes seemed to glow from within as he returned her gaze, his expression unreadable. His face was alien yet somehow beautiful in its ferocity, with sharp, angled features and a jaw built to bite and break. An intelligent face despite his silence and primitive appearance. Her gaze skated down over the strip of fabric—more belt than loincloth—circling his hips before returning to his face.

Long coiled dreadlocks hung almost to his knees, gleaming in the moonlight. No, not dreadlocks, she realized as one of them stirred, swaying gently in her direction. Some kind of tendril, like an exaggerated form of the pups’ small, feathery tendrils.

For a long moment neither of them moved, and then she realized she’d been holding her breath. She exhaled slowly, clutching the baby closer to her chest.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier this time. “For saving me. For...” she gestured to her bandages, “...this.”

The tendrils on his head moved, one of them extending towards her again. She stood very still, unsure whether to retreat or remain in place.

“My name is Xara,” she added, watching those silver eyes for any reaction. “Xara Reyes. I’m a biologist—a scientist. I study living things.” She laughed nervously. “Though I’ve never seen anything like you before.”

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