Page 81 of Tharn's Hunt
"So how do I fix it?" I ask, voice low. "Can that firebloom stuff help? Some other alien medicine? What do I do?"
Justine stops and turns to face me, her expression completely serious. She looks me dead in the eye.
"You fuck him," she says, her voice flat and devoid of any humor. "That's how you fix it. You complete the bond."
I stare at her, unable to respond. The words hang in the hot desert air between us. "That can’t be the only way."
"It is," she says, then turns and starts walking again, leaving me standing there, completely stunned.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly as dry as the sand at my feet. My gaze automatically flicks to Tharn, who is watching us with a curious tilt of his head. He has no idea we're discussing the intimate details of his... recovery plan.
Fuck him.
The words echo in my head, part medical prescription, part command. A sudden, inappropriate warmth pools low in my belly, and I have to clench my thighs together to stop it from spreading.
“Explainit to me again like I’m in kindergarten.” This is certainly not the type of birds and the bees talk I’d thought I’d be getting at my big age. “His dick is exactly like you’ve always imagined your perfect guy’s dick being…and you’resureit’s not a coincidence?”
Alright, so away with being queasy about discussing my sister’s alien boyfriend's goods. Curiosity is too much, and I have to know what I’m getting into.
I kick at the loose sand as we walk, trying not to look over my shoulder at Tharn as we talk about this specific part of his and Rok’s anatomy.
Justine snorts, clearly amused by my awkwardness. "It's definitely not a coincidence," she says. "Rok was like Tharn. He didn’t have a visible thing. He wasn't... equipped like that when we first met. It happened when he suddenly changed. As if his body was reshaping itself to be exactly whatI... needed."
She glances at me and sees my dumbfounded expression.
“Hey, I thought it was crazy too at first. But I’ve thought about it over and over again. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” She shrugs.
I nearly trip over my own feet. "That's... that's crazy," I stammer. "How is that even possible?"
She shrugs, her expression thoughtful. "I don't know for sure. Maybe it's the particles I dreamt about. Maybe we really are these mythic Daughters of Ain. Or maybe it's the bond itself, somehow. All I know is that one day, Rok was just like Tharn—flat pouch, nothing obviously... you know. And then, after we got closer, after the bond strengthened, things... changed."
I can't help it—my eyes dart to Tharn's figure, specifically to the flat pouch at his groin that I've mostly been trying not to think about. As if on cue, something shifts beneath the skin, a subtle movement that sends a jolt of heat through my core.
Oh. God.
My steps falter as blood rushes to my face, and other places I'm trying desperately to ignore. This is not happening. I'm not getting turned on by watching Tharn’s junk twitch. I'm not that far gone.
Except, apparently, I am.
"What does that mean?" I whisper, tearing my gaze away from Tharn. "For me, I mean. If the bond is doing the same thing to him that it did to Rok..."
Justine's expression turns serious. "It means his body is preparing to be compatible with yours," she says quietly. "It means the bond is progressing, whether you're ready for it or not."
A cold shiver runs down my spine despite the desert heat. "And if I'm not ready?" I hiss. "If I don't want this?"
Justine's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "Then we'll figure something out," she promises. "No one's going to force you into anything, Jacqui. Not even the bond."
I nod, grateful for her reassurance, though a small, traitorous part of me whispers thatforcingisn't the issue. The issue is that a growing part of me does want this, whatever "this" is. Wants Tharn, with his fierce protectiveness and his gentle touches and his amber eyes that see right through me.
"So," I say, desperate to change the subject before my thoughts spiral any further, "if what you're saying is true, and his body is changing to be... compatible with mine, does that mean it's customizing itself to what I, specifically, would want?"
Justine's lips twitch with suppressed amusement. "It’s just my theory, but yes. Why? Got specific preferences you're worried about?"
"No!" I exclaim, too quickly and too loudly. Ahead of us, Rok’s head turns slightly, and I lower my voice. "I just... I mean, if I could design the perfect one, I'd make improvements, you know?"
"Oh?" Justine's eyebrows rise, her expression a mix of amusement and genuine curiosity. "Like what?"
I shouldn't continue this conversation. I really shouldn't. But something about the absurdity of our situation, the stress of the past few days, and the lingering arousal from my dream makes me reckless.
