Page 10 of Tharn’s Hunt (Barbarians of the Dust #2)

DYING IS A BITCH (BUT SO IS WALKING THROUGH THE DESERT)

JACQUI

P ain. Heat. A deep, rhythmic jolting.

Consciousness comes in waves. Some strong enough to pull me under, others weak enough to let me float. My skin is on fire. My throat is a wasteland of its own.

A sound drills into my skull. A desperate, repeated chanting.

“Live, Jah-kee. Live.”

It’s a voice, but not a voice. A feeling. A frantic prayer being hammered directly into my brain. The sheer force of it is an anchor, and I cling to it, pulling myself back into my body one agonizing inch at a time.

He's still carrying me.

The realization tugs at the edges of my awareness, but everything feels distant, like I'm floating in a dream. I can't tell how much time has passed. Minutes? Hours? Days? The sun is much farther across the sky than it was before.

" Live, Jah-kee ."

His voice hums through my mind, and I blink my eyes open with effort, the world tilting sharply before settling into the same endless stretch of blasted sand and stone.

The sun hangs lower now, painting everything in hues of amber and purple.

This fucking desert. It’s beautiful in that brutal, unforgiving way that reminds you it could kill you without a second thought.

And then there's him.

Goldilocks.

He's not just walking; he's running. His movements a desperate, jarring rhythm. His face is a mask of grim exhaustion. Dark streaks of blood mar his golden skin. And he's glowing, a frantic, flickering light pulsing beneath his skin with every panicked beat of his heart.

He looks… terrified.

And it’s because of me.

My gaze meets his, and his frantic steps falter for a single heartbeat. The desperation in his golden eyes hits me like a punch to the gut. He looks at me like I’m a precious water source evaporating before his very eyes.

"Why…?" The thought is a weak, broken thing, but it’s all I can manage. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Relief crashes over his features. " You are awake ," his voice sounds ragged, breathless. " You came back ."

" Barely ." I manage a weak smile. " You didn't answer my question ."

His jaw tightens. " You are.. ." He searches for the word, the effort visible on his strained face. "...wondrous ."

I blink at him, certain I misheard. " Wondrous? Me? What, because I'm really good at almost dying ?"

His chest rumbles faintly beneath my cheek. Not quite a laugh. It’s too raw with relief.

" No. Because you exist ."

That sobers me. " Uh, thanks? I hate to break it to you, but I'm not that special. I'm just a girl. One of billions ."

" Not on Xiraxis ." His voice is quieter now, almost reverent, but laced with an undercurrent of panic. " There were no females here…until now ."

That gets my attention. " Wait, what? None? Like... zero ?"

" None ." The word carries such weight, such longing, that it makes my chest tighten.

I try to imagine it. Earth without men. For a moment, the thought sparks something giddy in me. No catcalling, no "not all men" lectures, no unwashed gym socks fermenting in bachelor apartments. Marvelous .

But then...

My fever-muddled brain conjures an inconvenient truth: I’d miss the cocks .

Not the men. Definitely not the men. But the glorious, thick-as-my-wrist, functional parts of them? The ones that could turn me into a boneless puddle with the right angle and rhythm?

Hypothetically.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“ There is nothing wrong with you, precious one .”

His words make my eyelids flutter open. With all my strength, I angle my head to see him better, wincing at how heavy it feels. He’s watching me with an intensity that sends that same strange shiver through me.

“ Your thoughts are… strong ,”he says, his voice tinged with a new, deep curiosity.

“ Oh God, did I say all that out loud ?”

I blame the fever. Or the desert.

“ The imagery was… ” He pauses, and something flickers across his face. His jaw tightens, and when he speaks again, his voice feels quieter. “ Vivid. A…marvelous design .”

Heat rises in my cheeks, rivalling the burning in my veins. “ Uh, thanks ?”

“ And yet… ” His voice lowers even further, and I sense something sharp and raw that vanishes almost as quickly as it appears. “ It is not at all like what I possess .”

I blink up at him, confused. It takes my fever-addled brain a moment to process what he’s just said. And the way his tone shifted, like he was mourning some deep, personal failing. Before I can puzzle it out, another realization hits me.

“ Wait .” I squint, trying to focus on his face. “ You’ve been able to talk this whole time ?”

“ Yes .” The answer is simple, matter-of-fact.

“ And you didn’t think to start with that ?” My indignation is a weak, sputtering flame.

“ You did not hear me before .” He adjusts his hold on me, his speed slowing. The passing desert comes a bit into focus again. " Your mind was closed. Now… now I can feel you ."

"Yeah, well, you were busy glowing at me and gesturing at my thighs like a creep."

“ I was not creeping ,” his voice is sharp, laced with genuine confusion.“ My steps were strong. I did not crawl on my belly. I was crouching. There is a difference .”

I blink slowly, trying to process his literal-minded defense. He thinks "creep" means... actually creeping around on the ground. The absurdity of it is so profound it almost makes me laugh, but I don't have the energy.

"Right. My mistake." My words slur with exhaustion. "You were performing a… crouching, non-creepy thigh-gesture. Totally normal."

“ I was attempting to offer a claiming ,” he explains. “ To bring you into the mindspace so you could hear me .”

"Oh, is that all?" My thoughts are getting fuzzy around the edges. "And here I thought you were just really, really interested in my panties."

I let out a sigh that turns into a shuddering breath and snuggle back against his chest. Arguing with a giant, literal alien is officially beyond my pay grade today. Especially when he’s the only solid thing in this tilting, burning world.

My eyes flutter closed. So tired. I just want to sleep.

“ No .” The command is a physical jolt in my skull. Sharp. Terrified. “ Jah-kee. You must stay awake. ”

“ I’m trying. ” My lids flutter, but it’s so much easier to just close my eyes. “ But it’s hard .”

“ You must ,” he demands, the intensity of his voice pulling me toward consciousness once more. “ You will not leave me .”

There it is again. That overwhelming wave of longing that crashes into me. It’s so raw, so desperate, that it almost drowns me.