Page 17 of Tharn’s Hunt (Barbarians of the Dust #2)

I remain where I am, needing a moment to collect myself. To wrestle my suddenly unruly body back under control. My member strains against its pouch with a strange, unfamiliar readiness, as if it prepares for a hunt I do not understand.It is a demand, but for what, I do not know.

I command it to be still. It does not obey.

With intense focus, I slow my breathing. Center my thoughts on duty, on protection. On anything but the curve of Jah-kee’s behind or the scent that still lingers in the air around me.

When I finally return to the cave entrance, Jah-kee has already retreated inside. I retrieve the partially cleaned sandfin, resuming my work with single-minded determination. My claws move. They slice. They clean. This is a thing I know. It is a quiet, steady thing in the noise of my head.

By the time I've finished preparing the sandfin, my member has settled, my breathing steady once more. I gather the meat and head into the cave, moving quietly in case Jah-kee has fallen back into rest.

She hasn't. She sits near the back of the cave, knees drawn up to her chest, watching me with those water-blue eyes that seem to see too much. Her face is still flushed, but less intensely now.

I do not look at her yet. I can already smell her.

I can hear the soft sound of her breath.

A low rumble starts in my chest as I move to arrange the meat on the stone shelf that runs along one wall of the cave.

This place is known to me. An established camp, one marked with dust stalker waste to warn away other predators.

It has firestones and offers good shelter, though the water source is small.

It is not the clan caves, but it will keep us safe through the dark.

I retrieve the firestones, arranging them carefully within a circle of smaller rocks. Jah-kee watches with undisguised curiosity as I strike them together, creating the spark that ignites and spreads between them.

"Ooh," she breathes as flames leap to life, casting dancing shadows across the cave walls.

The sound she makes pulls my gaze to her face, and my dra-kir gives a strange, tight thump.

Her eyes reflect the firelight, turning them from water-blue to something deeper, richer.

Her mouth is parted, and I watch the movement of her lips, the shape of them.

The curve of them. The fullness that only her lips possess.

Jah-kee is pleasing to look at.

The thought is like a smooth, round stone in my claw. I turn it over and over. I have never thought this of another living thing. A kill is a kill. A brother is a brother. There is strong, and there is weak. There is threat, and there is prey. There is no... pleasing .

But Jah-kee...

Ain's light.She is a new thing in my world. A new thing in my head.

I cannot pull my gaze from her. From the light on her face. From the way her small hands gesture as she vocalizes. I try to listen to the night, to the fire, but the only thing my ears find is the sound of her voice.

My focus is broken. She has broken it.

"What are these stones?" she asks, leaning forward to examine the firestones more closely. "I don't think we have anything like this on Earth. This is like a camper's dream."

Her meaning is clear in her wide, curious eyes. Her interest is fixed on the firestones. Not true stone, but something else. The hardened lifeblood of things that lived and died. When struck, they bleed not water, but fire.

I select one of the smaller firestones, dousing it with sand before holding it out to her. She hesitates only briefly before accepting it, turning it over in her hands with careful movements.

"It's warm," she says, those water eyes bright as she looks up at me.

Taking the stone back, I demonstrate again how to strike it against another to create spark and flame. Bleeding fire for her.

Her face lights up with understanding. "Instant fire. God, my sister would love these. Justine's always been the one with survival skills. Me? I once set my hair on fire trying to light a gas stove."

She mimes something that might be flames rising from her head, then laughs at her own gesture. The sound catches me off guard. So bright and clear, like water tumbling over stones. It makes something warm unfurl in my chest, a sensation as strange as the fact she is here with me.

I realize with a jolt that I want to be the one who brings her joy like that. I want to be the reason she is happy.

It is not like my life as a hunter. My purpose has always been to track, to hunt, to provide meat. Protect the clan. To survive. The happiness of another being has never been a goal.

Until now.

I don't know when her presence became comfort rather than duty. When her safety became more important than the hunt itself.

No. Her safety is the hunt now.

The thought is a simple, hard truth. Like stone. Like bone.

She continues vocalizing, pointing to various aspects of the cave, asking questions I cannot answer but feel compelled to try anyway.

I show her the small water source at the back of the cave.

It’s barely more than a seep between rocks, but her reaction is like watching a rare spine-flower unfurl its petals after a storm.

Her smile when she cups her hands beneath it to catch the precious drops is a heat that radiates. It makes my skin hum.

It makes the air in my lungs feel thin.

It makes my dra-kir beat a wrong, stuttering rhythm.

"This is perfect," she says, drinking deeply before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Thank you. For finding this place. For..." She gestures vaguely, encompassing the cave, the fire, perhaps our entire journey together. "Everything."

I tilt my head, accepting her approval though I don't deserve it. Not when part of me secretly, selfishly wishes to extend our journey. To keep her to myself a little longer before returning her to her sister-female.

Because Jah-kee belongs with her sister-female, with her own kind. And I belong with the clan, with my brothers, with the life I've always known.

Don't I?

The glow beneath my skin pulses, as if in answer to my unspoken question. It illuminates the space between us, casting everything in soft golden light.

Jah-kee's eyes widen slightly as she notices it. She points to my chest, then to her own skin where no such light exists.

"Why does that happen?" she vocalizes. "That glowing thing. Is it... normal for your kind?"

She sees it. She wonders at it.

Her sounds are questions. Questions I do not have the words for, even in my own mind.

How can I explain this to her? That the soft, controlled glow of a calm Drakav is nothing like this?

That this wild, brilliant fire under my skin is a betrayal.

A light that has its own will, that answers only to her presence, to her touch.

That my skin burns with this light only for her.

That it both terrifies and fascinates me.

She inches closer. When she's near enough, she reaches out, her fingers hovering just above my skin, not quite touching.

"May I?" she vocalizes, voice soft.

My body leans toward her hand before my mind realizes I’ve moved. Her touch, when it comes, is breath-light against my forearm. The glow flares instantly, brightening to almost painful intensity where her skin meets mine.

We both gasp at the sensation—a jolt of something electric that races through my veins. It doesn't hurt. Quite the opposite. It feels... good . Like completing a circuit I didn't know was broken.

She doesn't pull away. Instead, her fingers trace a slow path up my arm, following the glow as it spreads. Her touch is curious, exploratory, without fear or hesitation.

"It's beautiful," she whispers, her gaze fixed on the patterns of light beneath my skin. "Like... like you've swallowed the sun."

The wonder in her voice makes my chest tight. Makes me want things I cannot name, let alone understand.

Makes me want her .

The need to have her should send me away. Should make me put stone walls between us. But I do not move. I let her touch. I let her stay close.

She looks up at me then, her water-blue eyes locking with mine. In that quiet, a spark jumps between us. Not the light under the skin. Something else. Something that does not need words or mind-thoughts to be understood. It is a feeling of… rightness . A quiet in my blood that I have never known.

My claws ache to answer her touch. To trace the lines of her face, to feel the softness of her skin. But I keep them sheathed. My claws are made for hunting, for fighting, for breaking things. She is small. Soft. I could tear her skin with a careless move.

The thought is a spear in my gut.

I cannot risk it. Cannot risk her .

So I remain perfectly still as her fingers continue their journey, mapping the contours of my arm, my shoulder, careful to avoid the healing wound. When she reaches my chest, just above where my dra-kir thunders beneath bone and muscle, she pauses.

"Your heart," she vocalizes, splaying her fingers over the spot. "It's racing."

The air freezes in my lungs.I cannot draw a breath. I cannot let one out. The glow under my skin pulses in time with my dra-kir, a frantic, silent betrayal of the control I pretend to have.

Her fingers press a fraction harder, as if she could feel the thunder of it, and something in me tightens to the point of breaking.

She is too close. Her scent is a storm in my head, wiping out all other thought. My claws slide from their sheaths. My fangs ache, a deep, sharp pressure in my jaw.

A fire ignites in my gut, and it is not the clean fire of the hunt. This is a greedy, molten heat that pools low. Heavy. Demanding. It is not pain. It is… purpose. A truth that lives in my blood.

It wants .

It wants to drag her into my lap. To bury my face in the soft curve of her neck and breathe her in until I am full of her scent. It wants to sink my fangs into the swell of her shoulder. To mark her. To taste the heat of her skin.

It wants to push her down onto the sand, part her soft thighs, and find the secret heat between them. Find that hidden spring and push into it. Push and push until she is full of me, overflowing with me, until every part of her screams mine .

The vision is a fire in my blood. My body clenches, a pleasure so sharp it is almost pain. My member strains, hard as stone, a singular, focused ache. Yes. This is what it wants. This is what I want.

Then, through the red haze of need, a second vision forms. My strength against her softness. My claws, my teeth, my weight… I would tear her apart. I would break her. This starving beast inside me would devour her.

She is not prey.

The thoughtshatters through me like cracking stone. It breaks whatever spell her touch has cast, sending me flying backward so suddenly that she topples with a startled yelp.

"Sorry," she says, catching herself on her palms. "Did I hurt you?"

Dust.

Dust and bones .

I turn away, putting the fire between us, my body trembling with the force of a need I have only just tasted and must now deny. The ache has not faded. It is a hot, coiling serpent in my gut.

I force my claws to sheathe.

Focus . Provide .

The meat.The fire. A memory surfaces like a lifeline. Rok. He held Jus-teen's meat to the fire. Held it until the red was gone, until it was tough and dry.

Females are delicate.

The thought is simple. A fact. A solid rock to stand on in the middle of this madness. Jah-kee has suffered much. The meat I have given her has been raw, the way of a hunter. That is wrong. For her.

I will prepare the meat the way she needs it.

The task gives me something to focus on besides the dangerous heat in my veins. I arrange the meat carefully over the fire stones, using the sandfin’s quill to pierce the flesh. The smell fills the cave, rich and savory.

"That smells amazing," Jah-kee says, moving to sit across from me, the fire between us like a barrier. Perhaps she senses my sudden distance. Perhaps she welcomes it.

Frustration burns hot in my gut. It is a fire I cannot put out with sand. I keep my attention fixed on the task at hand.

When the meat is held to the fire until it is tough and dry—almost charred in places—I transfer it to a flat stone and offer it to her. She accepts with a smile, and my member strains against its pouch once more.

"Thank you," she says, taking a cautious bite. Her eyes widen in surprise, then what looks like pleasure. "Oh wow. This is good. Like, really good. So much better than when I first ate it. Mm!"

A sound escapes her—something between a moan and a hum—as her pink tongue darts out to run over her lips.

I stare, transfixed.

At this rate, I won’t need to ever light a signal fire for my clan. The glow under my skin could guide them here from three territories away.

Pride swells in my chest at her approval. I select a piece for myself, though I prefer the taste of raw meat, its juices rich with lifeblood. But sharing this meal with her, prepared as she prefers it, feels right somehow.

We eat in companionable silence for a time, the fire crackling between us. When we've finished, Jah-kee wipes her hands on her hide-coverings then looks at me with renewed curiosity.

"I just realized," she vocalizes slowly, "I don't know your actual name. You came out of nowhere. Saved me. And…I've just been calling you 'Goldilocks' this whole time."

She points to herself. "Jacqui," she says clearly, then points to me, raising her brows in question.

Ah. She’s tried this before. She wants my name. Something so simple, yet it has never occurred to me to offer it. In the mindspace, a name is the echo of a soul's shape, not...this. Not sounds forced through throat and lips.

I press a claw to my throat, feeling the vibration of my dra-kir beneath. How does one carve a feeling into noise?

My first attempt is pure silence. Just lips parting on air. The second produces a growl so crude I wince.

Jah-kee doesn't laugh. She leans forward, her water-filled eyes wide. Waiting.

I try again, shaping my tongue as I've seen hers move.

"Thhh—" A hiss of air.

"—aaarn." The ending rattles like rocks tumbling.

Tharn .

Graveled. Broken. But there.

For a moment, she doesn't move. Then, suddenly, she launches herself at me, her arms lock around my neck so tightly I feel her dra-kir pulse against my chest. Her voice is muffled against my skin.

"Th-aaarn."

My name. Worn smooth by her lips.

I should push her away. This closeness is too much. The scent of her head-fur, the heat of her skin…

Instead, I press my forehead to hers and try again:

"Tharn."

“Tharn.”

Clearer this time.

Dust.

Her smile could burn brighter than Ain at dawn.