Page 114 of Tharn's Hunt
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 thoughtsbrush 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 isStabby McGoldylooking at me like I'm breakfast, lunch, and dinner?"
Chapter 32
THARN'S SECRET (BUT NOT REALLY SECRET) CLUB
JACQUI
Mornings begin with the sharp, rhythmic clinking of stone on chitin. The massive corpse of the dust serpent is gone, its meat already cut into strips that hang smoking and curing deep within the cavern, filling the air with a savory scent. What remains is the prize: the creature's immense hide, stretched out on a massive frame just outside the cave.
They work with a reverence I find strangely compelling, their stone knives scraping away the last of the meat before they carefully pry each massive, dust-colored plate free. I watch one Drakav proudly present a cleaned scale to Alex. He sets it on the ground before her, then mimes placing a waterskin and a piece of meat on its surface. He gestures to her, then pats the space beside the scale, a clear offering of a personal eating surface. Then he points to a growing stack where other scales are being meticulously polished.
Progress.
But the main activity for the human women is centered around several large stone frames. Hunters return from patrolswith bundles of tough, fibrous vines, which are then stretched across the frames to be woven into surprisingly comfortable sleeping mats and privacy screens.
I watch Erika in surprise as she shows another woman how to work the shuttle—a smooth, heavy piece of polished bone—back and forth, her movements quick and sure. The Drakav leader, Kol, lingers just a little too close, his golden eyes fixed on her hands with an intensity that makes me wonder if he’s planning to propose to her fingers.
Only Tharn and Rok are absent most afternoons, vanishing into the tunnel network with that stupid, synchronized casualness.
I notice.
"Where are they going?" I whisper, turning the meat before me.
Sarven—who’s become Mikaela’s shadow—goes unnaturally still, his crimson eyes fixed on a point somewhere over my shoulder. His ears twitch. Guilty.
Justine hides a smile behind her waterskin. "Maybe they’re building you a palace."
I hurl a pebble at her. It bounces off her knee.
Evenings bring the best changes. The Drakav have started partitioning the cavern with those woven drapes, creating semi-private spaces. Tonight, two wrestle one between stone pillars while their brothers "supervise" with unhelpful growls.
It’s… almost sweet. These lethal warriors, meticulously measuring drapes like nervous tailors.
"Privacy," Kol declares to no one in particular, stabbing a finger at the hanging divider. Right before his gaze shifts to Erika as if seeking her approval.
