Page 41 of Tharn’s Hunt (Barbarians of the Dust #2)
THE WALK OF VERY LITTLE SHAME
JACQUI
W e emerge from the alcove hand-in-hand. Me in my makeshift hide dress, Tharn in my goddamn blouse like it’s some kind of trophy.
The main cavern buzzes with morning activity, and at least a dozen heads swivel our way.
Oh god .
I brace for disgust. Judgment. At the very least, some awkward coughing.
Instead?
The women exchange glances—not shocked, but... knowing. A few smothered smiles appear. Alex actually winks at me.
Huh.
Tharn's frame brushes against mine. " They heard, " he projects, shameless.
My face ignites.
Justine leans against a rock column, arms crossed. "Took you long enough," she calls, grinning like the cat who got the cream. And the canary. And the whole damn pet store.
I flip her off. She toasts me with her waterskin.
Tharn exhales sharply. His version of a laugh, I realise. But his claws tighten around mine when I try to pull away. As his gaze shifts to his brothers, the mindspace hums between us, thrumming with his reluctance like a second pulse beneath my skin.
My focus slides to them too. All watching us. In the back of my mind, I can feel them. A soft insistence.
Oh .
I can sense them.
And not just them…but who they are…
Haroth’s restless energy buzzes against my consciousness like static. Sarven’s amusement curls at the edges like smoke. The leader, Kol’s, steady presence anchors them all. I don’t recognize their faces—but I recognize them , as if I've always known the shape of their thoughts.
Oh fuck. No wonder Tharn struggled with the translator.
My fingers rise instinctively to the device in my ear. Such a clumsy, limited thing compared to this—this depth, this intimacy of shared silence. I pluck it out, staring at the tiny tech in my palm. All those misunderstandings, all those halting conversations...
A warm breath gusts against my temple as Tharn leans in. " Jah-kee ?"
I look up, gaze on the Drakav.
" I think…they want to congratulate you. " I glance at Tharn.
As if I opened a door, the mental chorus of the Drakav hits me all at once.
"— he’s transformed ?—"
"— got a Daughter to claim him ?—"
"— and she gave him hide coverings ?—"
"— lucky drakki-spawn ?—"
My lips twitch. Tharn's growl vibrates through my bones as he glares at the last thought-speaker. Across the firepit, Haroth has the decency to look abashed—for all of three seconds, before he resumes his ridiculous flexing.
" They're... enthusiastic ," I project carefully, realizing now that if I can hear them, perhaps they can hear me, too.
Tharn's fingers twitch against mine. " They're ka’vrakts ." That word comes across as “mindless creature” in my brain. I snort. He’s calling them idiots, but the warmth in his thought betrays him.
I squeeze his hand, marveling at how easily the meaning flows between us now. Just knowing.
Across the cavern, the other unmated males linger near the human women’s area, their golden skin bare, their movements just a little too deliberate as they pretend to be busy.
Haroth is still flexing while "sorting" fire stones.
Another is stretching his back in a way that definitely isn't necessary. Sarven is dramatically testing the edge of his blade, though he’s not even looking at the sharp edge.
His eyes are on…Mikaela. Who is focusing on everyone except him.
In the mindspace, their thoughts are loud and obvious.
" Why hasn’t any human wanted to share water with me ?"
" Do I need to hunt better prey? Is that the trick ?"
“ Rok wears the scent of his female. Tharn wears his female’s scent. Where is my scent to wear?”
Tharn’s mental groan vibrates through me. " Pathetic ."
When Haroth—who has migrated near Tina—suddenly flexes so hard his biceps practically ripple in the firelight, even Tharn’s patience snaps.
I squeeze his fingers. " Go. Before they start a war over who deserves scraps of cloth ."
His amber eyes burn, but he finally releases me—only after dragging my knuckles to his fangs for one claiming nip. The moment our hands part, the mindspace erupts:
" ASK HIM HOW HE DID IT !"
"— does the female give coverings after the claiming? —"
"— maybe if I bring her a kill, she’ll ?—"
Tharn stalks toward his brothers, radiating warning. The others immediately crowd him, their bare forms making his blouse-loincloth stand out even more.
Sarven reaches out, fingers twitching toward the fabric. " Is it… soft ?"
Tharn’s answering snarl shakes the cave. " Mine ."
The others freeze. Tharn's chest puffs out like a preening bird, his spine straightening as if wearing human scraps is the highest honor their people know.
In the mindspace, the jealousy is palpable.
" He won’t even let us touch it ."
" I want one ."
Justine stares at the scene before turning back to me, grinning. "Are they… pouting?"
I bite back a laugh.
Across the cave, Mikaela pats the stone beside her. I join them, suddenly hyperaware of two undeniable facts. I have an alien mate. And said mate is currently preening before his brothers like a prize-winning rooster.
No one mentions it.
Mikaela just passes me a waterskin. "So. Alien sex." Her eyebrow arcs. "Do you now have the whole..." She wiggles her fingers near her temples.
"Telepathy thing?" I take a slow sip, buying time before passing it back to her. The mindspace thrums with Tharn's smug satisfaction and the answering growls of his nosy brothers. "Yeah."
The women’s eyes lock onto me. Pam’s piece of meat hovers halfway to her lips. Erika leans forward, curiosity etched in her expression.
Silence.
"Are you okay?" Mikaela blurts. "Like, actually okay? Because we heard—" Her cheeks flush. "Well. We heard everything."
Alex snorts. "The whole damn canyon heard everything."
My face burns.
"But more importantly," Erika cuts in, "you're telepathic now. And you're not the first." Her gaze flicks to Justine.
Pam bites a bit of her meat. “What’s it like?”
Her question catches me off guard. How do I explain it? How do I explain something that rewires your entire understanding of connection? That the translator in my hand suddenly feels like a child's toy compared to the depth of the mindspace.
"It's..." I struggle for human words, absently rubbing my sternum. "Like realizing you've been deaf your whole life and suddenly hearing music. But the music is... emotions. Memories. The shape of someone's thoughts rather than the words."
Pam's chewing slows. Mikaela's fingers tighten around her waterskin.
"Tharn tried to talk to me through the translator…" I continue. "But this? When we're connected?" A laugh escapes me. "I knew his brothers' names before they even told me.” I jerk my chin toward Sarven. “Sarven’s thinking about hunting, and I…can taste the blood in my mouth."
Sarven's head snaps up—and he's not the only one. Half the Drakav nearby are now staring at me, their golden eyes bright with something like wonder. I stiffen, suddenly afraid I've breached some unspoken boundary.
But then it hits me. Their awe.
One warrior tilts his head in that distinct Tharn-like gesture of affirmation. Another touches his chest, over his heart. And Sarven...
Oh .
His hesitant thoughts brush against mine. A raw, aching need from a male trying to be brave. An image floats between us: Mikaela laughing by the firelight, her braids swinging. Then a wordless question.
“ Her name ?”
The request is so tender, so human in its vulnerability, that my throat tightens. In the mindspace, I cradle the answer gently.
“ Mikaela .”
The reaction is instantaneous.
Sarven's entire body shudders. The name echoes through him like a struck bell, sending ripples of possessiveness-awe-love-attraction so potent it steals my breath. For a heartbeat, I'm drowning in the sheer rightness he feels. As if he's been waiting his whole life to shape that sound in his mind.
Beside me, Mikaela frowns at her suddenly trembling waterskin. "Why's it getting windy in here?"
Sarven jerks back, the connection snapping as his pointy ears flatten to the sides of his head. But the wonder remains. In his eyes, in the soft growl building in his chest, in the way his claws carefully retract as he looks at her.
"Turns out sleeping with the locals is the universal translator," Erika hums, scratching her chin.
Mikaela follows my gaze to Sarven, who is now vibrating with poorly contained devotion. "Oh no," she murmurs. "Why is Stabby McGoldy looking at me like I'm breakfast, lunch, and dinner?"