Page 19 of Tharn’s Hunt (Barbarians of the Dust #2)

Once the fire is lit and the meat is cooking, Tharn settles beside me, his larger body radiating heat in the cooling evening air. We sit in silence, watching the flames dance, the familiar routine of camp-making somehow grounding despite the alien surroundings.

"We make a good team," I say softly, more to myself than to him. "Who'd have thought, right? Human girl and alien warrior, surviving the desert together."

He glances at me, the firelight reflecting in his amber eyes, turning them to molten gold. Something in his expression makes my heart skip a beat. There’s warmth there; an intensity that goes beyond simple companionship.

I look away quickly, focusing on the cooking meat. "Food's almost done," I say, though I have no idea if it is or not. "Smells good."

When we eat, the flavors are rich and savory. I suppose I've gotten used to alien cuisine now. Surprisingly (or it could just be the fact I’m a foodie), I like it.

After we've eaten, I move to the entrance of our shelter, gazing out at the desert night.

The sky here is nothing like Earth's. The stars are different, arranged in patterns I don't recognize, and there are three moons, each a different size and color, hanging low on the horizon.

Despite that, their light hardly reaches the surface.

It's beautiful, in a haunting, alien way.

Tharn joins me, his presence warm at my back. He points to a cluster of stars, then traces a pattern with his finger, making a soft rumbling sound in his chest.

"A constellation?" I guess. "That's what we call them on Earth. Patterns in the stars. Stories written in the sky."

He rumbles, seemingly pleased that I understand. He traces another pattern, this one resembling something with many legs. A spider, maybe, or a crab.

"What's that one called?" I ask. I know he can't answer, but I can’t stop myself from asking anyway.

To my surprise, he attempts to vocalize something. His voice is a low rumble that sends a skitter down my spine and straight to the bottom of my belly, where it settles. I swallow hard. He's trying to share his world with me.

"It's beautiful," I say, gesturing to the entire sky. "All of it."

His gaze shifts from the stars to my face, and the intensity in his eyes steals my breath.

"Bee-yooo-tiful," he repeats, the word rough, broken, and aimed directly at me.

Heat floods my cheeks, and I drop my gaze. “How…” I pant. “Do you even know what that means?” He doesn’t. It’s just a coincidence, and I’m here getting all flustered over it.

God, Jacqui. Whatever’s happening, end it.

"We should, um, get some rest," I mutter, retreating into the shelter. "Big day tomorrow. More walking. Yay."

I settle onto my designated sleeping spot, hyper-aware of Tharn as he moves around the small space, banking the fire for the night. When he finally sits, it's with him facing the entrance, his side profile visible to me as he guards me even in rest.

"You don't have to stay awake all night," I say, though I know he probably won't sleep deeply anyway. "We can take turns keeping watch or something."

He tilts his head at me before gesturing for me to sleep. His meaning is clear: he'll keep watch, I should rest.

"Stubborn," I mutter, but am I actually scolding him? No. Truth be told, I'm exhausted; the day's journey weighs heavily on my limbs.

As I drift toward sleep, my thoughts wander to Justine. Is she safe? Is she wondering where I am, if I'm alive? Does she think I'm still back at the transport, waiting for rescue with the others?

Or does she know, somehow, that I came looking for her?

Justine has always been the strong one, the capable one.

While I was busy partying through college, she was securing internships and planning her future.

When our mother died, she handled everything—the funeral arrangements, the paperwork, the endless details that grief makes impossible to focus on. And I…

I went into myself. Lost my ability to speak.

We were only kids. She shouldn’t have had to deal with that alone while I…

I swallow down the pain.

She's been taking care of me for as long as I can remember. Always the protector, the guide, the one with the plan.

And I've been... what? The follower? The burden?

No, that's not fair. Justine never made me feel like a burden. But I've always been aware of living in her shadow, always a step behind, always a little less capable.

Until now.

Because out here, in this alien desert with only Tharn for company, I've had to find my own strength. My own capability. My own will to survive.

And I have.

I've survived shadow creature attacks and more. I've trekked across endless dunes under a merciless sun. I've gathered poisonous plants with my bare hands and faced down death more times than I can count.

Maybe I'm not just Justine's little sister anymore. Maybe I'm becoming someone else. Someone stronger. Someone who doesn't need to be saved.

The thought follows me into dreams filled with golden light and amber eyes. Dreams where we do more than just trek the desert. More than just survive. We explore . His hands learn the map of me, my body sings under his touch, and when our skin meets?—

Oh .

I wake with a silent gasp in the predawn dark, the desert air cool against my flushed skin. My pulse thrums in places I'm trying very hard not to think about.

Tharn sits where I last saw him, but something's different. His posture, usually so alert, seems... softer somehow. Less guarded.

He's staring into the dead fire, his expression distant, almost melancholy. The glow beneath his skin is dimmer than I've seen it before, pulsing slowly like a fading heartbeat.

He looks... lonely.

The realization makes something in my chest ache. Of course, he's lonely. He's stranded out here with a being he can barely communicate with, diverted from his path, injured, exhausted. He's probably missing his tribe, his home, his people.

And yet, he's never complained. Never shown frustration at having to care for me, protect me, guide me. He's just... done it. Willingly. Patiently.

Why?

Duty? Honor? Some alien code of ethics I don't understand?

Or something else?

I watch him silently, the question turning over in my mind.

His profile in the dying light is striking—the strong line of his jaw, the slope of his forehead, the copper-auburn hair that falls in loose waves to his shoulders.

He's unlike anything I've ever seen, and yet, in this moment, he seems so. .. human. So vulnerable.

I almost call out to him, almost break the silence with his name. But something stops me. This feels like a private moment, a glimpse of Tharn when he thinks no one is watching. A side of him I'm not sure he'd want me to see.

So I remain quiet, my breathing even, pretending to sleep while my mind races.

What am I to him? A burden? A duty?

And the question that makes my own heart ache in the darkness…

What is he becoming to me?