Page 8 of Xara and the Xenobeast

The tendril danced closer, and she forced herself not to flinch. It brushed her cheek, so lightly she might have imagined it, and the touch sent an odd tingling sensation across her skin.

“Can you understand me? Do you speak?”

His expression remained unreadable, those silver eyes revealing nothing as they studied her face. The tendril retreated, and he made no sound, no gesture to indicate he’d understood a word she’d said.

The baby in her arms chirped, reaching towards him with tiny paws. Something in his expression shifted—softened, perhaps—as he looked at the small creature.

“I think she likes you,” she said, taking a careful step closer. “What are they? Do you have a name for them?”

Still no response. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft sounds of the forest and the baby’s occasional chirps.

She sighed, disappointment settling in her chest. She’d hoped for answers, and instead, found more mysteries. Who was he? What was this place? How had she ended up here?

She turned back toward the cave entrance, her leg throbbing with renewed intensity. The brief exploration had depleted what little strength she’d regained. She needed to rest, to think.

“I should go back inside,” she said, more to herself than to him.

As she limped past him, his scent enveloped her—something wild and alien yet not unpleasant. She was acutely aware of his size, of how easily he could overpower her if he chose. But he simply watched her pass, those silver eyes following her movement, those long tendrils swaying gently in her direction as if drawn by an unseen current. One brushed against her arm, lingering a moment longer this time, thick and smooth and unexpectedly soft.

The same tingling sensation skated across her skin, and she suppressed a shiver as she stared up at him. His eyes flared even brighter, and then he jerked his head towards the inner cave in clear command for her to return. Some odd, defiant impulse made her frown up at him.

“Don’t give me orders,” she muttered. She tried to take a step back but she stumbled on the uneven floor and pain shot through her leg.

He growled, and the next minute she was in his arms as he strode back towards the bed, tucked tightly against that hard, warm chest, his arms and tendrils holding her firmly in place.

She gasped and tried to struggle, then huffed and gave up the useless effort. The sensation of being carried so effortlessly was unexpectedly pleasant and heat rose to her cheeks, intensifying when her stomach rumbled.

He set her on the bed without a word, and the baby leapt from her arms to the bed, chittering as it ran in a circle, clearly delighted with this game.

His gaze fixed on hers, he held up one clawed hand, palm outward. Stay. He pointed to the bed, then to her, then made a flat, pressing motion. The meaning was clear even without words: Stay there. Don’t move. She opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. Arguing clearly wasn’t going to work.

Instead she sighed and nodded as she sank back on the bed. The babies immediately snuggled against her and her heart warmed. At least someone was happy with the situation.

Her savior stood above her a moment longer, arms folded across his broad chest, no doubt waiting to make sure she obeyed. His stance was clearly protective, his silver eyes watchful, andsomething about that combination was oddly reassuring. She hadn’t felt this safe since she’d been taken.

He didn’t move, his attention remaining fixed on her. She yawned as exhaustion overwhelmed her, then smiled and shook her head.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured.

A low, rumbling sound responded, a growl or perhaps a grunt, but then he turned and stalked out of the cave.

CHAPTER SIX

The Xenobeast watched as his female—as Xara—smiled up at him and settled down in his bed, a confusing blend of emotions swirling through him.

Mine.

He had never considered anything his before. He’d been designed without attachments, without a sense of self beyond his programming—until the Zarkari deemed him defective.

He’d been engineered to serve, to obey without hesitation, without question, without error. He’d done so, without complaint or deviation. But the day had come when he’d had to choose between obedience and his instincts. He’d chosen the latter and as a result he’d been exiled, thrown him onto this hostile planet with nothing but his rage and the lingering echo of betrayal.

Long years of solitude, of nothing but survival, and now this female had changed everything.

When she’d first seen him clearly, her hazel eyes studying his face, his body, his movements, he’d been prepared for theinevitable: The screaming. The panic. The desperate attempt to flee.

It didn’t come.

She simply stood there on the ledge, small and fragile, her soft body swaying slightly with exhaustion. The moonlight caught in her short, dark curls and illuminated the curves of her face. Fear flickered in her eyes—he could smell it, taste it on his sensory tendrils—but she didn’t try to run.

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