Page 30 of Tharn’s Hunt (Barbarians of the Dust #2)

I WASN’T LOOKING FOR AN ALIEN HUSBAND. BUT HE’S LOOKING AT ME

JACQUI

T harn is kneeling before me, his massive frame somehow less intimidating in this dream-space.

"Jah-kee," he rumbles, his voice both in my ears and inside my head, "let me share your water."

I don't question the words. Dream-logic makes them the only thing that has ever made sense. I nod, a wave of heat washing through me as his large hands slide up my thighs, his thumbs brushing the insides as he pushes the fabric of my clothes aside.

His touch is fire. I gasp as his claws skim over the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs. Teasing. Promising.

"Please," I whisper, voice husky with a need that makes me tremble.

He looks up at me, his amber eyes molten, burning with a hunger that mirrors my own. Then he lowers his head between my thighs.

My back arches off the ground as his hot breath ghosts over my folds. His scent is intoxicating. I whimper, my fingers fisting in the soft sand, waiting, begging.

And then his tongue touches me.

A broad, hot, purposeful stroke, right over my clit. A shockwave of pure pleasure rips through me. My whole body jolts. The universe implodes.

He makes a low, satisfied sound against my skin, a rumbling growl that vibrates through my entire being.

His hands grip my thighs, holding me steady as he licks again, slower this time, learning my shape.

He tastes me, his tongue tracing patterns that make my hips buck, chasing the pleasure he's creating.

One of his claws traces a line from my hip bone down to the wet curls between my legs, dipping into my slickness. He brings the finger to his mouth, tasting me, his golden eyes never leaving mine. The look in them is pure, savage possession.

Mine . The thought is his, a brand on my soul.

He goes back to work, his tongue now relentless. Lapping, sucking, flicking. He finds a rhythm that has my vision going blurry, my moans turning into shameless, breathless cries. I'm close, so close, the pleasure coiling tight in my gut, a breath from release.

"Tharn," I gasp, my body shaking.

He answers by pressing the hard ridge of his nose against my clit while his tongue continues its assault, adding a deep, perfect pressure that shatters my control.

I jolt awake, a gasp caught in my throat, my body flushed and trembling with a need so intense it's almost painful. For a moment, I'm disoriented, the dream still vivid in my mind as reality slowly reasserts itself.

I'm lying on the hard ground of a cave. Not surrounded by golden light, no kneeling Tharn, and no mouth between my legs.

Oh, thank God.

And also, damn it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to will away the lingering arousal, the phantom sensation of his hands on my thighs, his mouth?—

Nope. Not going there. Not thinking about it.

When I open my eyes again, the first thing I see is Tharn, standing near the cave entrance, his massive silhouette outlined against the growing light of dawn.

He's perfectly still, except for his head, which turns slightly toward me, those amber eyes finding mine across the distance with unerring accuracy.

Did he... could he have somehow sensed my dream? Felt what I was feeling?

Oh God, please no.

I quickly look away, heat flooding my face as I sit up, pretending to be very interested in smoothing out the wrinkles in my grimy clothes. But I can still feel his gaze on me, making something low in my belly clench with a combination of embarrassment and lingering desire.

This is ridiculous . I'm a grown woman. And I’m having wet dreams about an alien on a desert planet in the middle of nowhere. My life has officially gone off the rails.

"We need to get moving," Justine announces, already awake and preppy. Blast her. "That guy from last night might come back with friends."

Right. The rival clan member. The threat. Reality comes crashing back, and I'm almost grateful for the distraction from my hormonal chaos.

"You two go ahead," Justine says to Rok, gesturing between them. "Scout the path. Jacqui and I will follow."

Rok nods, hesitating only briefly before moving ahead with long, fluid strides. Tharn remains rooted in place, his gaze flickering between me and the distant horizon with obvious reluctance.

"He doesn't want to leave you," Justine murmurs beside me. "It's physically painful for him."

I swallow hard, guilt tempering my embarrassment. "The bond thing?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

She nods, her expression softening. "It's getting worse for him. You've noticed, right? The pain?"

I think of the way he collapsed yesterday, the tremors that ran through his massive frame, the way my touch seemed to ease his suffering.

"Yeah," I admit quietly. "I've noticed." A knot of guilt and something unexpected—a fierce, protective anger—tightens in my stomach. He's suffering because of me .

"So how do I fix it?" I ask, voice low. "Can that firebloom stuff help? Some other alien medicine? What do I do?"

Justine stops and turns to face me, her expression completely serious. She looks me dead in the eye.

"You fuck him," she says, her voice flat and devoid of any humor. "That's how you fix it. You complete the bond."

I stare at her, unable to respond. The words hang in the hot desert air between us. "That can’t be the only way."

"It is," she says, then turns and starts walking again, leaving me standing there, completely stunned.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly as dry as the sand at my feet. My gaze automatically flicks to Tharn, who is watching us with a curious tilt of his head. He has no idea we're discussing the intimate details of his... recovery plan.

Fuck him .

The words echo in my head, part medical prescription, part command. A sudden, inappropriate warmth pools low in my belly, and I have to clench my thighs together to stop it from spreading.

“Explain it to me again like I’m in kindergarten.” This is certainly not the type of birds and the bees talk I’d thought I’d be getting at my big age. “His dick is exactly like you’ve always imagined your perfect guy’s dick being…and you’re sure it’s not a coincidence?”

Alright, so away with being queasy about discussing my sister’s alien boyfriend's goods. Curiosity is too much, and I have to know what I’m getting into.

I kick at the loose sand as we walk, trying not to look over my shoulder at Tharn as we talk about this specific part of his and Rok’s anatomy.

Justine snorts, clearly amused by my awkwardness.

"It's definitely not a coincidence," she says.

"Rok was like Tharn. He didn’t have a visible thing.

He wasn't... equipped like that when we first met.

It happened when he suddenly changed. As if his body was reshaping itself to be exactly what I . .. needed."

She glances at me and sees my dumbfounded expression.

“Hey, I thought it was crazy too at first. But I’ve thought about it over and over again. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” She shrugs.

I nearly trip over my own feet. "That's... that's crazy," I stammer. "How is that even possible?"

She shrugs, her expression thoughtful. "I don't know for sure.

Maybe it's the particles I dreamt about.

Maybe we really are these mythic Daughters of Ain.

Or maybe it's the bond itself, somehow. All I know is that one day, Rok was just like Tharn—flat pouch, nothing obviously.

.. you know. And then, after we got closer, after the bond strengthened, things. .. changed."

I can't help it—my eyes dart to Tharn's figure, specifically to the flat pouch at his groin that I've mostly been trying not to think about. As if on cue, something shifts beneath the skin, a subtle movement that sends a jolt of heat through my core.

Oh. God .

My steps falter as blood rushes to my face, and other places I'm trying desperately to ignore. This is not happening. I'm not getting turned on by watching Tharn’s junk twitch. I'm not that far gone.

Except, apparently, I am.

"What does that mean?" I whisper, tearing my gaze away from Tharn. "For me, I mean. If the bond is doing the same thing to him that it did to Rok..."

Justine's expression turns serious. "It means his body is preparing to be compatible with yours," she says quietly. "It means the bond is progressing, whether you're ready for it or not."

A cold shiver runs down my spine despite the desert heat. "And if I'm not ready?" I hiss. "If I don't want this?"

Justine's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "Then we'll figure something out," she promises. "No one's going to force you into anything, Jacqui. Not even the bond."

I nod, grateful for her reassurance, though a small, traitorous part of me whispers that forcing isn't the issue.

The issue is that a growing part of me does want this, whatever "this" is.

Wants Tharn, with his fierce protectiveness and his gentle touches and his amber eyes that see right through me.

"So," I say, desperate to change the subject before my thoughts spiral any further, "if what you're saying is true, and his body is changing to be... compatible with mine, does that mean it's customizing itself to what I, specifically, would want?"

Justine's lips twitch with suppressed amusement. "It’s just my theory, but yes. Why? Got specific preferences you're worried about?"

"No!" I exclaim, too quickly and too loudly. Ahead of us, Rok’s head turns slightly, and I lower my voice. "I just... I mean, if I could design the perfect one, I'd make improvements, you know?"

"Oh?" Justine's eyebrows rise, her expression a mix of amusement and genuine curiosity. "Like what?"

I shouldn't continue this conversation. I really shouldn't. But something about the absurdity of our situation, the stress of the past few days, and the lingering arousal from my dream makes me reckless.