Page 5 of Tharn’s Hunt (Barbarians of the Dust #2)

MY CAVEMATE IS A NUDIST (AND OTHER PROBLEMS)

JACQUI

M y entire being feels suddenly weak. I slide down the cave wall, eyes still fixed on the earring. After so long searching, waiting. Of alternating between hope and despair. Of imagining the worst…

And now this...exhibitionist. This giant, golden, terrifying... exhibitionist... has Justine's other earring.

Her earring .

I’m swimming in too many emotions to process. Relief collides with fear, hope tangles with confusion, and somewhere deep down, a flicker of gratitude burns hotter than I want it to.

He’s the one who tended my wounds while I was at death’s door, wasn’t he.

He hasn’t attacked me; only reacted to defend himself.

I raise my eyes to him, really taking him in now that the shock has temporarily replaced fear.

His proportions are almost human, but wrong in ways that keep setting off alarms in my brain.

His shoulders are too broad, his limbs too long, and his ears are not rounded like mine, but sweep up to elegant, knife- like points.

His features are just alien enough to unsettle me without fully crossing into monstrous.

And those eyes.

Golden, unblinking, and too intense. They study me with a predator’s focus, like they’re cataloging every breath I take, every micro-expression I make.

And yet…

He placed the earring between us like an offering. A message?

The alien shifts, gliding like some kind of giant jungle cat, which is just plain unfair for something that big. He watches me with this intense stillness, like I'm a scared little bunny and he's afraid I'll bolt. Buddy, look in a mirror. I am not the one people run from here.

Lifting one clawed hand, he points first to the earring, then in a direction over his shoulder. I blink at him, almost too afraid to acknowledge what he’s trying to tell me. But the message is clear: She's that way. I can take you to her.

My throat constricts around words I'm afraid to voice. If I speak them, if I let myself believe...

"Justine?" I finally croak. "My sister. Is she alive?"

He winces when I speak. Actual physical pain flickers across his face, but he doesn’t reply.

“Do you know where she is?”

No response. But his eyes remain fixed on mine with unmistakable intelligence. Unnerving, in fact.

Slowly, he reaches for something tied to his waist—some kind of pouch—and pulls out…is that a stomach? A dried animal bladder? It sloshes.

He extends it toward me, carefully, like he’s offering treasure instead of what looks like a grotesque science experiment.

Water.

It has to be water. Nothing else would make that sound.

I don’t care if it’s camel piss or recycled colon juice at this point. My fingers shake as I reach for it, the promise of liquid overriding every survival instinct screaming don’t trust alien beverages.

The moment my fingers close around the waterskin, his entire body tenses.For a split second, as our knuckles brush, I think I see a faint spark, like static electricity on a dry day. He pulls his hand back quickly, a low grunt rumbling in his chest, but my grip is already ironclad.

Okay, so the hot alien is a little jumpy. Noted.

But that’s not as important as the liquid in my grasp.

I don’t care about decorum. Don’t care if I’m gulping like a dying animal at an oasis. The container smells faintly of herbs and something earthy, but the water itself tastes clean. Better than the metallic tang of our emergency rations.

It’s cold. Perfect.

I’m halfway through draining it when I notice him still watching me.

He’s standing so absolutely still, staring at my throat with something between fascination and alarm.

When I drain half the skin in one go, a strangled sound escapes him. Like I’ve just committed a crime against his entire species.

"What?" I rasp, wiping my mouth. "You offered it to me."

His claws twitch like he wants to snatch it back.

Maybe his people sip.

Maybe the undignified burp that escapes my throat gives him the ick. All I know is he's looking at me like I've just performed a magic trick by doing the most basic mammalian function.

I thrust the waterskin back at him, and this time, our fingers lock for a solid second.

Light doesn't just spark. It explodes.

A brilliant golden fire erupts between us.

It races up his arm, mapping veins and patterns under his skin that I shouldn't be able to see.

He jerks away with a sharp hiss, stumbling back a step and cradling his hand to his chest as if I've physically burned him.

Theviolent pulse of light subsides, but it doesn't disappear.

It settles, leaving a soft, steady glow beneath his skin.

For a moment, we just stare at each other. His nostrils flare wide as he inhales deeply, his golden eyes wide with pure, animal shock. My skin does a strange prickling thing that I’m not sure is actually from fear.

I swallow hard, gesturing to my calf. “You did this?”

His gaze snaps to the plant matter stuck to my wound. Something unreadable passes across his face. Then he looks at me again, like he’s trying to tunnel through my skull and into my brain.

I break eye contact, pushing myself up straighter. “I’m going to take that as a yes. You’re the only thing I’ve encountered in this wilderness apart from those shadow creatures that wanted me for dinner.” I pause, swallowing hard. “Thank you.”

My wrist aches where his claw had pricked me earlier, but the pain feels distant. Unimportant.

All that matters is the earring between us, and what it means.

“And if you’ve helped me…that means maybe you helped my sister, too.”

When I meet his gaze again, he’s looking at me in that same way. Still clutching his chest as the glow pulses beneath his skin, even as he stares at me so hard I actually feel a dull sensation behind my eyes.

I don’t wait for whatever silent conversation he wants to have. My legs tremble as I force myself upright, swaying slightly with the effort. Weakness and hunger pull at me, but determination pushes back. I wipe the blood from my wrist onto my already filthy clothes without a second glance.

Steadying myself against the cave wall, I point at the earring, then toward the desert beyond the entrance. My voice comes out hoarse but determined: "Take me to her."

He doesn’t move.

His expression shifts in subtle, alien ways that are hard to describe. The tightening around his eyes. The slight flaring of his nostrils. I can’t interpret it, but it clearly means something.

I take a shaky step forward, then another. My body betrays me with a stumble, but I catch myself.

“Come on,” I say, each word pulled from somewhere deep. “Show me where you found her.”

The alien’s expression shifts. The muscles in his jaw tighten.A low, sharp grunt escapes him. A sound of pure negation.

My gaze snaps to his. "What do you mean, no ?" I take another shaky step forward."If my sister is alive," I say, each word pulled from somewhere deep. "I need to go to her. Now."

The moment I stagger toward the exit, he moves faster than I can track, blocking the cave entrance with his massive body.

I freeze as his glowing skin illuminates the space between us.

Who the hell is he? How did he meet Justine? And where did he come from?

I freeze, glaring up at him. "Move."

He doesn’t. Instead, he simply points one long, clawed finger at my leg. At the wound. Then he gestures to me, his hand making a slow, falling motion, mimicking my earlier collapse. His meaning is brutally clear.

You are too weak. You will fall.

"I don't care," I lie, my voice trembling with a mixture of fury and frustration. "I'll crawl if I have to. I'm excellent at crawling. I did it for a whole year when I was a baby."

He meets my glare, his golden eyes unwavering. Then he points to himself, taps his own broad chest, and points to me again. The gesture is so simple, so primal, it bypasses language entirely. I will care for you. I will decide when you are ready.

Oh, hell no. 'I will decide when you are ready'? Excuse me? Has he met me? I've been successfully ignoring unsolicited advice from men my entire life; I'm not about to start taking it from a seven-foot-tall naked one who thinks a grunt is a complete sentence.

He then gestures to the back of the cave, where I’d been resting. An order. A clear, non-negotiable command. Rest.

I should argue. Should scream and throw rocks. Should insist we leave immediately. But my legs wobble beneath me, my vision spotting with exhaustion.

He’s right.

And damn him, knowing he’s right is the most infuriating part of all. I haven't eaten anything proper in days. I'm tired. Hungry. Even with the water he's provided, my body is running on empty. I wouldn’t make it a hundred yards.

My shoulders slump. For once, I listen to my body instead of my stubbornness. It's the rational choice, I tell myself. No point in getting eaten by desert monsters when I'm this close to finding Justine.

As I slump against the cave wall, sliding down until I'm seated on the cool stone floor, my gaze slides back to him. This golden-skinned, copper-haired, naked alien who's appeared out of nowhere with my sister's earring and water to share.

Who somehow made light appear between us.

Who wants to take me to Justine.

The earring still lies between us, a tiny fragment of my world in this alien place. He notices me looking at it and, with those careful movements, as if he’s trying not to startle me, he picks it up again.

This time, he extends his hand, offering it to me directly.

Close enough to feel the heat radiating off his golden skin. Close enough that the air between us prickles with static.

He goes utterly still, not breathing, not blinking, as if waiting for a detonation.

I snatch the earring without contact.

His exhale is audible.

Mine burns in my chest.

Even though I just took a drink, my throat goes dry and I clench my teeth, watching as he eases back.

The earring is heavier than I remember, the cool metal biting into my palm. My chest tightens, tears threatening behind my eyes, but I blink them away before they can fall.

For the first time since I'd set out to find Justine, hope warms me more effectively than this planet’s blazing sun.

Justine is alive.

This strange being knows where she is.

And tomorrow, he’ll take me to her.

The desert holds twenty-seven ways to die.

But as his golden eyes lock onto mine in the deepening twilight, a new thought takes root. Maybe, just maybe, I’ve finally found the one way to survive. And he is it .