Page 18 of Tharn’s Hunt (Barbarians of the Dust #2)
JACQUI
I t turns out that traveling with a seven-foot alien has its perks.
For one, I don't have to worry about carrying water. Tharn's got that covered. For another, I can see danger coming from miles away because he suddenly freezes like a cat spotting a laser dot.
Like right now.
We've been walking for hours, the morning sun already climbing high in the yellow sky, when Tharn stops so abruptly I nearly slam into his back.
"What?" I ask, stepping out from behind him to scan the endless dunes. "What is it?"
He doesn't answer, of course. But his entire body has gone rigid, head tilted back, nostrils flaring as he scents the air. His amber eyes track something in the sky I can't see yet.
Then I spot it—a shadow passing over the sand, growing larger by the second.
Before I can even process what's happening, Tharn moves. One moment I'm standing beside him; the next, he's in front of me, body angled to shield mine, one arm extended backward to keep me in place behind him.
The shadow resolves into something that looks like a—and I shit you not—a ducking pterodactyl. Its leathery wings stretch wide, a long, whip-like tail trailing behind it. It soars overhead, circling once before continuing on its way, apparently uninterested in us.
Just like the last three threats Tharn's protected me from this morning.
"It's gone," I say, still wide-eyed. There are flying things here? Not just things hiding under the sand or shadow creatures from the underworld. This really is hell.
Tharn glances down at me, golden eyes scanning my face as if checking for signs of fear. Finding none, he relaxes marginally, though he keeps scanning the sky for several long moments before resuming our trek.
I fall into step beside him, a small smile playing at my lips. His protectiveness is endearing, if occasionally over-the-top. He positions himself between me and literally everything. From actual dangers like that sand manta ray thing, to even a harmless tumbleweed that rustled in the breeze.
He reminds me of Justine, in a way. My sister was always the shield between me and the world's sharp edges.
But where Justine's protection was emotional, his is intensely physical.
Primal. Like he's made a blood oath to keep my fragile human body intact, even if it means throwing himself in front of anything that moves.
"You know," I say, "on Earth, we have these animals called dogs. Big, furry things that are fiercely loyal to their humans. They guard them, protect them, follow them everywhere."
Tharn glances at me, head tilting in that curious way that's become so familiar.
"You remind me of a dog sometimes," I continue, grinning. "A big, golden guard dog. All growls and protective instincts."
His brows furrow slightly, as if he senses I'm teasing him but isn't quite sure how to respond.
"It's a compliment," I add, reaching up to pat his shoulder. "Dogs are the best."
He looks thoroughly confused now, but there's a softness around his eyes. As if he knows I'm not mocking him, even if he doesn't understand the words.
We walk in companionable silence for a while, the rhythmic crunch of sand beneath my feet oddly soothing.
It should be monotonous, this endless walking. But something about Tharn's presence makes it... not unpleasant. There's a comfort in having him nearby, in the steady cadence of his breathing, in the occasional rumble of satisfaction he makes when he spots something familiar on the horizon.
"So," I say, breaking the silence again, "on a scale of one to 'we're totally screwed,' how are we doing? Are we getting closer to Justine?"
He glances at me, then points toward what looks like a distant mountain range barely visible through the heat haze. His expression is reassuring, though I'm not sure if that's intentional or just my desperate need to find something positive in this situation.
"That's where we're headed?" I ask, following the line of his finger. "Where Justine is?"
His head snaps toward me at the name, pupils flaring.
"Jusss-teen," he repeats, the syllables rough and halting, like his tongue can’t quite shape itself around human sounds.
God . Just hearing her name in that gravelly voice makes my throat tighten.
I point to the mountains, then hold up my fingers one by one. "How. Many. Days?"
He stares at my hand, gaze shifting to the digits with intense focus. After a beat, he mirrors me—three fingers raised.
"Three days?" I guess, and he tilts his head back. "Okay. Three days. I can do that."
I can do that. The thought feels strange, unfamiliar. Since when am I the type of person who can trek across an alien desert for days on end? I'm Jacqui Parker. Perpetual follower, professional younger sister, queen of bad decisions.
And yet, here I am. Still walking. Still breathing. Still stubbornly refusing to die despite this planet's best efforts.
Maybe Justine isn't the only stubborn one in the family after all.
The thought brings a small smile to my lips. What would Justine think if she could see me now? Walking side by side with a golden alien warrior across an endless desert, surviving shadow creature attacks and devil manta rays, and blistering heat?
She probably wouldn't believe it. Hell, I barely believe it myself.
"Hey," I say, a sudden idea striking me. "Want to learn something fun?"
Tharn looks at me curiously.
"Human gestures," I explain. "Like... this."
I hold up my thumb in the universal sign for 'okay' or 'good job.' Tharn stares at it before hesitantly mimicking the gesture. His thumb is nearly twice the size of mine, tipped with a retracted claw that glints in the sunlight.
"Perfect!" I beam at him. "That means 'good' or 'I approve' or, you know, 'thanks for not letting me die horribly.'"
His lips twitch, almost a smile, and he repeats the gesture with more confidence.
"Now try this one," I say, raising my hand in a wave. "This is how humans say hello."
He copies me, his massive arm moving stiffly, the gesture somehow both regal and absurdly awkward on his large frame.
I can't help it—I laugh. Not a small chuckle, but a full-bodied laugh that bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me. When was the last time I laughed like this? Before the crash, certainly. Maybe even before we left Earth.
Tharn tilts his head, watching me with those intense amber-gold eyes. Then, to my surprise, he repeats the wave, this time with exaggerated awkwardness, his arm flailing slightly as if he's intentionally making it comical.
He's... joking with me?
My laughter redoubles, tears springing to my eyes. I'm so caught up in the moment that I don't notice the uneven ground ahead. My foot catches on a rock hidden in the sand, and suddenly I'm pitching forward, arms windmilling uselessly.
Before I can face-plant, strong hands catch me, steadying me effortlessly. I find myself pulled against Tharn's chest, his arms around me, his leathery warm scent filling my nostrils.
Our eyes meet, and something electric passes between us. His glow brightens where our skin touches, pulsing in time with what feels like both our heartbeats. For a moment, I can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but feel the solid warmth of him against me.
His eyes drop to my lips, just for a second, but long enough to send a jolt of... something... through my entire body.
Oh. Oh no.
I pull away quickly, brushing sand from my clothes with more force and focus than the situation warrants. "Thanks for the save," I say, my voice a slightly higher thing than normal. "Good reflexes. Very... helpful."
He watches me, something unreadable in his expression.
I force down a swallow.
"We should, um, keep moving," I say, gesturing vaguely ahead. "Places to go, sisters to find and all that."
His gaze lingers on me a beat too long before he turns to lead the way once more.
Well, that was... something.
Something I absolutely do not have time to think about right now. Or possibly ever.
We continue walking, the silence between us different now. Charged with an awareness I'm not ready to acknowledge. I focus instead on the horizon, on putting one foot in front of the other, on the goal that's driven me since I left the transport wreckage.
Find Justine. Survive. Go home.
Simple. Straightforward. Definitely not complicated by whatever just happened.
By the time the sun begins its descent, we've reached the base of a cliff formation that rises abruptly from the desert floor.
Tharn leads me to a narrow fissure in the rock face, barely visible until we're right in front of it.
He gestures for me to go first, his expression clearly saying, "This is where we'll camp. "
I squeeze through the opening, which widens into a small cavern—more of an alcove, really—sheltered from the wind and hidden from view. The floor is sandy but level, and the ceiling is high enough that even Tharn can stand upright.
"Nice find," I say, hoping my voice communicates my appreciation. "Cozy."
Tharn does that chin tilt of his head. Before I can decipher what he means, he’s leaving. I watch him go, a strange twinge in my chest at even this brief separation.
Get it together, Jacqui. He's just getting firewood or something. Not abandoning you in the desert.
I busy myself arranging our sleeping area, clearing away larger stones, and smoothing the sand as best I can. By the time Tharn returns, arms laden with what looks like the carcasses of those small, lizard-like creatures, I've created a reasonably comfortable spot.
"Dinner?" I ask, pointing to the dead animals.
He does the chin tilt, setting to work immediately. I watch, still fascinated by the careful precision of his movements as he prepares the creature. For someone with claws that can tear through a living thing’s spine, he's remarkably delicate when the situation calls for it.