Page 7 of Tharn’s Hunt (Barbarians of the Dust #2)

IF LOOKS COULD KIDNAP

JACQUI

I wake to find golden eyes directly in front of my face.

"Jesus!" I jerk back, skull cracking against stone. “Ouch!” Pain explodes behind my eyes, turning my vision white for a terrifying instant. It only highlights the already harsh pounding in my head.

When my vision clears, he's still there. Seven feet of naked alien crouched barely an arm's length away.

My head throbs with each heartbeat, a vicious pounding that makes even blinking hurt. I thought I was getting better. It’s gotten worse again. Hunger, dehydration, or maybe just the stress of having a giant gold man staring at me like I'm the most fascinating bug he's ever found.

Whatever the cause, it feels like someone's drilling through my temples with rusty screwdrivers.

I fumble for my weapon, fingers closing around the familiar metal. My arms feel like lead, but I manage to lift it between us. The movement makes my vision swim.

"Hey," I rasp. "Remember yesterday? This is just business. Keep your... whatever that was... to yourself."

The alien tilts his head, those eerie eyes unblinking. Does he even need to blink? This close, I can just about see that they're a beautiful amber-gold, speckled with white flecks that make it look like there's a whole universe in there.

It’s beautiful.

But then the memory of him gesturing toward my thighs comes rushing right back, and I scowl. That was universal speak for ‘can I see your panties?’, wasn't it?

“Some things transcend species, apparently—like being a creep.”

My weapon wavers even as I gesture at him to back up. He doesn't move, just watches with that unsettling intensity. Then, slowly, he shifts backward, giving me space.

Wait. He understood that?

I squint at him through the hammering pain in my skull. He's…respecting my boundaries? That would be hilarious if I weren’t so tired. A naked alien wild man actually listening to what I say when human men find that simple task challenging? An Earth-shattering concept, I’m sure.

I slump back against the wall, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I've been. I fell asleep again. I actually fell asleep with this... alien...in the cave. He could have done anything to me while I was out. Killed me. Eaten me. Attempted whatever he was suggesting with that thigh gesture.

But he didn't.

The waterskin sits within reach, as if he put it there so I could reach it as soon as I woke. Despite wanting to grab it and quench my thirst, my gaze slides past it to what lies beyond.

Laid out on flat stones is... food. A lot of food.

Dominating the makeshift table is what can only be described as a nightmare with fins.

It looks like someone crossbred a manta ray with a porcupine, resulting in a flat, wing-like body topped with a massive spiny fin running along its length.

Its mouth is mercifully closed, but even dead, the thing looks ready to snap at any fingers that venture too close.

Beside this monster are several smaller creatures, lizards of some kind, with scales that shimmer with an iridescent blue-green sheen that would be beautiful if they weren't, you know, dead alien reptiles .

“You brought food…” My gaze shifts back to the alien. His eyes are locked on mine. Unreadable—but there’s something there. A brightness. A spark.

Excitement ?

My stomach twists. Why is he excited?

Before I can figure it out, he moves, his massive frame gliding with that frightening grace. He’s heading toward the horrifying sand ray thing. I stiffen, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Or care.

His claws unsheathe as he crouches beside the carcass, the deadly curve of them catching the light. For one terrifying second, I think he’s about to attack me. But then he turns his attention fully to the creature.

The clicking sound comes again, softer this time, almost… pleased.

I stare, heart pounding, as he leans over the thing, his claws working with care. He’s opening it. Peeling back layers of tough skin like he’s done this a hundred times before.

My stomach churns.

And then it hits me.

Oh my God. He’s preparing it.

For me.

He separates meat from bone, extracting a pale strip of flesh, free of spines and skin, and holds it out to me.

The reverence of his offering is unmistakable. Like he's presenting me with the rarest delicacy, not a chunk of raw alien desert fish.

I stare at the glistening meat, then at him. His posture has changed. Back straight. Shoulders squared. Chin slightly raised. Pride . He's proud of this kill. He hunted this for me specifically, it seems.

"Um, thanks?" I say, reluctantly accepting the offering. Our fingers brush briefly, and that strange light phenomenon flickers beneath his skin before he jerks his hand back.

He watches with laser focus as I examine the meat. I sniff it cautiously. It smells... not terrible. Just raw.

My stomach rumbles, deciding for me. I take a small bite and chew. The texture is firm, almost like a very dense scallop. The taste is mild.

"Not bad," I admit, taking another bite.

The alien's eyes brighten. Literally. The amber-gold intensifies like the sun. He immediately returns to his butchering, carving more precise strips from the creature's back.

I point to the iridescent lizards. "What about those?"

He follows my gesture, then makes a dismissive motion with one hand, nudging them slightly away from the main spread.

"Not good?" I mime eating, then make a face, pointing at the lizards.

He hesitates, then reaches for one of the lizards. With swift precision, he slices into it, extracting a small portion of meat. He gestures to the manta-ray thing, then to the lizard, then back to the ray. His preference is clear.

"The ray is better?"

He just stares, and again, the focus in his gaze is so intense it feels like he’s burning thoughts into my brain.

"Right," I mutter. "You don't understand a word I'm saying."

Of course, he doesn't understand. He's an alien.

Not like the Xyma who came to Earth with their universal translators and diplomatic smiles. This is a wild alien on a wild planet. Different rules entirely.

Wait. Translator .

My hand flies to my ear, feeling for the small device that should be there. The universal translator the Xyma provided us before we arrived on this hellscape.

It's gone.

"Shit," I hiss, patting my pockets. My gaze lands on my handbag, lying discarded against the cave wall.

I lunge for it, upending the contents onto the stone floor.

An empty chicken biscuit packet falls out, followed by an empty water sachet.

Evidence of how close to death I'd actually been when Goldilocks found me.

Then there. It hits the cave floor and rolls down to my boot. I reach for it like it’s gold.

“Please, God. I haven’t asked for much this whole time. All I ask is for this to work.” I push the thing into my ear, my gaze flying to the alien expectantly.

I’m not even sure how to turn it on. I give it a few taps before swallowing hard and looking at the alien again.

Of course, for it to work, he actually has to speak. Which he hasn’t done since he found me here. To be honest, I’m not sure he can speak. Maybe his species is mute. Or maybe just him.

I clear my throat, pointing to myself. "Jacqui." I tap my chest. "Jah-kee."

That glow that appears beneath his skin flickers now. He makes a soft sound—not quite a word, more like a rumble deep in his chest.

"Your turn," I prompt, pointing to him.

Nothing. Just that unblinking stare.

"Fine, I'll call you Goldilocks, you know…" I gesture from his copper-red hair that gleams like metal to the rest of his golden-bronze body. "Because you're just right."

Wait, what? No. Because of the hair. Just the hair . Wait. His hair is red-copper, not gold, and wasn't she blonde? God, my head hurts. Thank God he can’t understand me.

I take another bite of the ray meat, watching him as he continues his butchering. Every time I look away, my gaze keeps sliding back to him, and I tell myself it’s because there’s nothing else to look at.

He's scarred. Not just in a few places, but everywhere. Long slashes across his ribs. A puckered circle on his shoulder that looks like it might have been a puncture wound. A jagged line running from his collarbone down across his chest.

But despite his fearsome appearance—or maybe because of it—I find myself oddly at ease.

He had the twin of my sister’s earring. If he wanted to hurt me, he's had plenty of opportunity. Instead, he's brought me water. Food. Treated my wound.

Annnd, he's watching me again, those amber eyes tracking my every movement with that strange intensity that should be unsettling but somehow isn't anymore. Not completely, anyway.

"It's morning," I mutter, gesturing toward the cave entrance where light streams in. "We need to go. You need to take me to Justine."

No response.

“Justine,” I stress her name. “You do know who I’m talking about, right?”

I fish into my bra for the earring. His gaze follows my movements. Not my hand, but the way my boob shifts in the bra. His head tilts almost imperceptibly.

I clear my throat. His gaze flies to my neck instead. His head tilts the other way. A strange little shiver goes through me. Good Lord. I really need to get rid of this delirium.

“This.” I show him the earring. “You’ll take me to her now, yeah?”

I put the earring away again and try to stand, but the cave tilts alarmingly. I brace myself against the wall, willing the dizziness to pass. Fuck.

Don't pass out. Don't pass out .

Blood rushes to my temples, making my skull pound harder.

Goldilocks is there instantly, one massive hand hovering near my elbow without quite touching me. Those deadly claws just inches from my skin, yet so carefully restrained.

"Thanks," I say, taking deep breaths as I sit back down, "But I'm fine."