Page 130 of Tharn's Hunt
Here, there's only the punishing grip of his hands, the scrape of stone against my back, and the mindspace roaring with a single, savage truth:
Mine.
Epilogue
IT'S NOT FLIRTING IF YOU SCOWL WHILE DOING IT (AN IDIOT’S GUIDE TO INTERSPECIES ROMANCE)
MIKAELA
Iswear I can still feel Sarven's eyes on me, even though he's moved to the other side of the cavern.
It's ridiculous. I'm not some blushing teenager, and I've never been the kind of girl to get flustered over a guy.
But there's something about him—something in the way he looks at me, like he's trying to figure out what makes me tick.
It should be unnerving. Instead, it's... distracting.
I force myself to focus on the task at hand, sorting through our pathetic collection of Earth remnants. My broken smartwatch. A half-empty tube of lip balm. A tangled mess of earbuds that will never play music again.
Such small, useless things, and yet we cling to them. Little pieces of a world that feels increasingly distant.
Around me, the cave has transformed over the past weeks. The crude shelves carved into the stone now hold small personal items. Dry, woven vines hang as room dividers, giving us the illusion of privacy. Massive hardened scales hold dried meat and herbs.
It's become a home of sorts.
"Earth to Mikaela," Tina says, nudging my shoulder.
I blink, shaking off my thoughts. "What?"
"You were staring into space," she says with a smirk. "Thinking about someone?"
"No," I say quickly, but my voice comes out too sharp, and Tina's smirk widens.
"Uh-huh," she says, clearly not buying it. "That's why you've been sorting those same headphones for five minutes."
I look down and realize she's right.
"I'm just tired," I mutter, setting it aside.
She shrugs, but the knowing look in her eyes tells me this conversation isn't over.
Great.
Across the cavern, the Drakav called Sarven has joined the weapon-makers, his powerful hands gripping a half-finished spear. But even as he works, his gaze keeps drifting toward me, a heat in his eyes that I can feel from here.
It doesn’t help that his eyes are red.
I force myself to look away, but something inside me—something I'm not ready to acknowledge—hopes he keeps looking.
SARVEN
Mikaela's scent lingers in the air long after she's retreated to the females' sleeping area.
It's distracting. Maddening.
I run my claws along the shaft of the spear I've been crafting, testing the balance, but my mind isn't on the weapon. It's onher. The way her eyes flash when she's irritated, the curve of her throat when she laughs, the subtle strength in her movements.
I don't understand why she affects me this way—I've never felt anything like it before.
