Page 37 of Tharn’s Hunt (Barbarians of the Dust #2)

MY GLOW-UP GOT A LITTLE TOO LITERAL

THARN

F ire.

My blood is liquid fire racing through veins too small to contain it. My bones crack and reform with each heartbeat. My skin—my skin is wrong. The familiar gold that has marked me since birth is gone, replaced by something darker, colder, yet somehow... more.

I can't see Jah-kee anymore, though I hear her screaming my name. My vision has fractured, the world splitting into shards of light and shadow.

"Tharn!"

Jah-kee's voice pierces the haze of pain, but I can't answer. Can't speak. Can barely think past the agony tearing through me.

Her soft lips against mine. She shared water from her lips. That was the trigger. That small connection unlocked something beyond my control.

This is wrong. Rok warned me it would be intense, but this—this is like dying and being reborn at once. The stone floor cracks beneath my claws as they extend involuntarily, sharper than they've ever been.

I can feel the change spreading through me like a fast-acting venom, a dark fire racing through my blood, remaking me from the inside out.

"Help! Somebody help!"

No. No one can help. No one should come. I am dangerous like this. Uncontrolled.

Must get away. Must protect Jah-kee... from me.

I lurch to my feet, staggering toward the chamber entrance. Jah-kee steps toward me, her hand outstretched, her water-blue eyes wide with fear. Fear of me. The realization cuts deeper than any physical pain.

"Jah-kee," I try to say, but it comes out as a guttural snarl. " Stay... back ."

She doesn't understand. How could she? We have no mindspace connection, no way to communicate the danger.

But I need her to understand. Need her to run, to hide, to get away from me until this passes. Because if she stays?—

My claws gouge the stone floor as another wave of transformation crashes through me. My senses sharpen impossibly. Suddenly, I can hear her heartbeat, smell the salt of her tears, feel the heat radiating from her skin.

And something else. Something new.

Her thoughts.

Not foggy like before, but impressions, clear in the mindspace. Emotions, fears swirling like mist.

... terrified he's dying ...

... my fault. The kiss was my fault ...

... please don't leave me ...

The intensity of her concern slams into me, doubling me over. She's afraid for me, not of me. The distinction matters, though I can't focus on why.

Another spasm rocks through me, my back arching as my muscles seize. Something is pushing against the flat pouch at my groin, demanding release, the pressure building to unbearable levels. I know what this is. Rok described this, but experiencing it—dust and stars, there are no thoughts for this.

I need to get away. Now. Before the final stage hits, before I lose what little control I have left.

With a roar that shakes dust from the ceiling, I lunge toward the tunnel entrance. Jah-kee cries out, reaching for me, but I evade her grasp. My limbs are uncoordinated, my movements jerky, but fueled by desperation.

"Tharn, stop!" she cries, her voice raw and cracking with the force of the sound. "Please, let me help you!"

I can't stop. Can't explain. Can only run.

The tunnels blur past me as I crash through the passages, my body careening off the walls, leaving streaks of blood in my wake. I'm barely aware of the direction. I just need to go.

Away from her. Away from everyone. I am dangerous. Unstable. A beast breaking free of its cage.

The deeper tunnels are cooler, darker, less traveled. Perfect. My legs finally give out, sending me sprawling onto the hard stone floor of a small chamber. I curl into myself, trembling as the next wave hits.

JACQUI

"Tharn! Answer me!" My voice bounces off the stone walls, echoing back to me with no response.

I've been following the trail of blood smears and gouges in the stone. What the hell is happening to him?

The kiss—it had to be the kiss that triggered this. One moment he was looking at me like I hung the moon; the next he was convulsing, his skin turning black and starry like the night sky.

And then he ran. Bolted like a wounded animal seeking somewhere dark to hide.

I turn another corner, the shadows getting darker as I venture deeper into the mountain. It's getting harder to see, and the tunnels are branching in multiple directions. I'm going to get lost if I'm not careful.

"Tharn, please," I call again. "I just want to help!"

"Jacqui!"

I whirl around at the sound of my name, relief flooding me when I see Justine hobbling toward me, supported by Rok. Her injured leg is hastily bandaged, but she's clearly in pain.

"What are you doing down here?" I ask, rushing to help steady her. "Your leg?—"

"Forget my leg," she cuts me off. "It’s happened, hasn’t it? Everyone heard the commotion."

Before I can answer, two more figures emerge from the shadows behind them. One is Sarven, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light. The other is another Drakav.

My worry bubbles to the surface. "He was in agony, Justine. And his skin—it turned black, with these pinpricks of light like stars."

Justine doesn't look surprised. She nods, turning to Rok, who straightens. "It happened to Rok too," she says softly. "Back then, I had no clue what was going on." Her eyes find mine, understanding filling them. "He needs you, Jaqs..." She pauses. "If you'll help him."

She thinks I'll reject Tharn. The realization hits me suddenly—that Justine went through this with Rok, alone and clueless, and somehow they made it through. She's worried I might not do the same.

I turn back to the tunnel. "We have to find him."

Sarven steps forward, nostrils flaring as he scents the air. He points confidently down the leftmost passage, then starts walking, clearly expecting us to follow.

The tunnel narrows as we descend deeper into the mountain. The air grows cooler, damper. Sarven moves with silent grace despite his size, while the other Drakav follows closely behind him. Rok supports Justine, who's limping badly but refuses to turn back.

Then I hear it—a low, pained growl that raises the hair on my arms.

"Tharn," I whisper, pushing past Sarven to run ahead.

The tunnel opens into a small chamber, and there, curled against the far wall, is Tharn. Or what used to be Tharn.

His golden skin is still entirely black.

But what stops me in my tracks is the change to his body. He's larger somehow, his muscles more defined, his claws longer and sharper. And between his legs, where there was once just a smooth, flat pouch, there's now... well, something decidedly not flat.

"Oh," I breathe, heat rushing to my face.

Tharn snarls, backing further against the wall, his gaze wild and unfocused. He doesn't seem to recognize any of us. His body shudders with another wave of pain.

Behind me, I hear Sarven move. A subtle shift of weight, the sound of muscle and bone settling into a coiled, ready stance.

I take a step forward, but Sarven moves quickly, blocking my path with his massive arm. His crimson eyes flick between me and Tharn, clearly concerned I'm about to get myself killed.

"Let me pass," I say, meeting his gaze directly.

He doesn't budge, just gives me a firm stare.

"Sarven," Justine calls out. "It's okay. She needs to try."

"Be careful," she adds to me, her voice tight with worry.

Sarven hesitates, his expression conflicted. I fix him with my best don't-mess-with-me glare, and after a moment, he reluctantly steps aside.

Tharn's growl deepens as I approach, his teeth bared in warning. I freeze, then force myself to breathe slowly, to project calm I don't feel.

"Hey," I say softly, taking another careful step. "Hey, Tharn. It's me. It's Jacqui."

His growl falters slightly, his head tilting as if the sound of my voice penetrates the haze of pain and instinct.

"That's it," I whisper, inching closer. "You know me. You carried me through the desert, remember?" My voice shakes only slightly. "You fought shadow creatures and sand serpents and every nightmare this planet could throw at us."

Another step.

Now I'm close enough to see it—really see it.

The stars beneath his skin aren't just glowing.

They're moving.

Tiny pinpricks of light swirl like distant galaxies, forming and reforming constellations across his arms, his chest. Patterns that feel familiar, though I've never seen them before in my life.

"You're okay," I continue, my voice low and steady. "Look at me. That's all you have to do. Just stay with me. Look at me."

His growls stop entirely, his breathing still harsh but less frantic. His pupils are blown. They track my every movement as I kneel in front of him.

"It's me," I whisper, my voice shaking despite my best efforts. "Tharn, it's me. You're okay. Just breathe, okay? Just breathe."

Slowly, so slowly, I extend my hand, palm up. For a long moment, Tharn just stares at it, his chest heaving with each labored breath.

Then, with a movement so careful it breaks my heart, his much larger hand covers mine.

The contact is electric. Heat surges between us, and Tharn gasps, his back arching as if struck by lightning. His grip on my hand tightens painfully, but I don't pull away, don't break the connection.

"It’s okay," I whisper, ignoring the pinch of his claws against my skin. "I'm here."

Recognition floods his features, followed by something that looks almost like relief.

The starry patterns beneath his skin pulse faster. Terrifying. Beautiful. I can't look away.

"Jacqui," Justine calls softly from behind me. "I think he’s stabilizing. Keep going."

I have no idea what "keep going" means, but I'm not about to let go of his hand. Not when he's looking at me like I'm his only lifeline in a storm.

Slowly, carefully, I move closer, my free hand reaching up to cup his face. The moment my palm touches his cheek, he leans into it with a sound that's half-growl, half-sigh.

"There you are," I murmur, a small smile tugging at my lips despite everything. "Coming back to me?"

He doesn't answer, but the wild look in his eyes dims further, replaced by the Tharn I know. My Tharn.

Then, without warning, his entire body goes rigid. The stars beneath his skin freeze in place, then flare brightly.

I'm dimly aware of Sarven and the other Drakav stepping forward as if to shield me, of Justine gasping. But all I can focus on is Tharn's face—his jaw clenched in pain, his eyes squeezed shut as if bracing against some final, terrible impact.

And then, just as suddenly, it's over.

The light fades, the stars settling, slowly being replaced by his usual golden bronze, but without the glow that’s been under his skin from the first moment we met. For a heartbeat, he stares at me, eyes wide with wonder and exhaustion.

Then he collapses, his massive frame crumpling forward. I catch him as best I can, though his weight nearly crushes me. It takes Sarven and the other Drakav rushing forward to keep us both from hitting the stone floor.

"Tharn?" I pat his cheek, panic rising again. "Tharn, can you hear me?"

His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, but his eyes remain closed. Unconscious, but alive.

"It's okay," Justine says, hobbling closer with Rok's support. "He's just exhausted. The transformation takes everything they have."

I look up at her, a thousand questions on my lips, but only one thing makes it out. "He’s changed."

She shares a look with Rok, then turns back to me with a small, knowing smile. "The same thing that happened to Rok. He's... evolved. Adapted. For you."

I glance down at Tharn's unconscious form, at the new body he now inhabits. The more defined muscles. The... addition between his thighs that I'm trying very hard not to stare at.

"For me," I echo, the weight of those two simple words hitting me like a meteor. "This is because of me."

Sarven makes a series of gestures to the other Drakav.

"They need to get him back to his alcove," Justine explains. "He'll be more comfortable there, and safer."

I nod, but my fingers tighten around Tharn’s shoulders.

Then I notice it—the way the hunters stare at his lower half, their expressions a mix of awe and alarm.

Oh .

His transformation has left him... exposed.

Without hesitation, I yank off my thin blouse, leaving only my bra on. The fabric tears easily in my hands as I fashion a crude loincloth, my fingers brushing the strange new ridges along his hips as I secure it.

“That was…necessary,” Justine says.

“ Very .” But I can’t ignore the little delightful shiver that runs down my belly.

When I finally lean back, my hands linger for one last second against Tharn’s chest. I don't want to let go of him, but I know it's for the best.

"I'm coming too," I say, my tone making it clear this isn't a request.

Justine just nods, as if she expected nothing less.

It takes both Sarven and the other Drakav to lift Tharn's unconscious form. He's deadweight, his limbs hanging limply as they carry him through the tunnels. I follow closely, one hand never leaving contact with his skin—his arm, his shoulder, whatever I can reach.

I'm not even sure why I feel compelled to maintain the connection. I just know that when I think about breaking it, letting him go completely, my chest tightens with something like panic.

We return to Tharn's alcove, the same place where this all started. Was it only minutes ago? It feels like hours.

The Drakav lay Tharn on his fur-covered platform, arranging his limbs before stepping back. Sarven gives me a long, assessing look, then inclines his head slightly—respect, I think, or maybe approval—before turning to leave.