Page 118 of Tharn's Hunt
"Tharn—!" My cry is breathless as my body struggles to accommodate both sensations.
Then he moves.
The dual sensation is ruinous. His length strokes deep while that wicked protrusion rubs relentless circles where I'm oh so sensitive. The mindspace fractures into blinding light as my body arches like a drawn bowstring.
"Jah-kee." His teeth graze my shoulder, the warning vibrating through my bones.
Every nerve sings as he adjusts the angle, that clever ridge finding new ways to wring pleasure from me. His breath comes ragged against my neck, his hips moving in slow, deliberate rolls that make my thighs tremble.
"You make me ache," he projects. The mindspace floods with his restraint, the effort it costs him not to lose control. The sensation is intoxicating.
I rock back against him, reveling in his choked growl. The movement sends sparks through my veins, that perfect pressure building until my vision whites at the edges.
I know the moment Tharn senses I’m close. He leans in, breaths brushing my skin. I feel his claws, sharp against my hips for a barest second before he sheathes them. His hands splay wide across my hips, his palms pressing hard against me, holding me flush against his power.
"Let me see you shine."
The command undoes me. My climax crashes through me, wave after wave of pleasure so intense it borders on pain. The mindspace sings with our shared rapture as Tharn follows me over, his roar shaking dust from the cavern walls.
When awareness returns, I'm cradled against his chest, his heartbeat a steady drum beneath my ear. His claws trace idle patterns along my spine, the touch sending fresh delicious shivers through me.
"This," he projects, his thought a low growl as he presses his body fully against mine, "is the only covering you will ever need."
Later, when our breathing has steadied, he gathers the shredded remains of the tunic.
"The next one," he vows against my shoulder, "will be stronger." His hand skims my bare hip in clear contradiction. "It will have to be."
Chapter 34
WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU SPACE LEMONS, MAKE SPACE-ADE (OR JUST GET BONDED)
JACQUI
Morning starts with a scream.
Not the fun kind. Not the Tharn-has-discovered-a-new-way-to-make-me-see-stars kind. The panicked, something-is-very-wrong kind that jolts me awake with my heart in my throat.
I scramble upright, nearly kneeing Tharn in the process. He's already alert, his body coiled tight beside me, claws extended.
"What is it?" I gasp, fumbling for the tunic he made me yesterday—the one that miraculously survived the night despite his best efforts.
But Tharn doesn't answer. His head is cocked, listening to something I can't hear. Something in the mindspace that doesn't include me.
Another scream cuts through the air, followed by urgent voices. Female voices.
I'm on my feet in an instant, tunic half-secured as I rush from our alcove. Tharn follows silently, his presence a reassuring shadow at my back as we emerge into the main cavern.
The scene that greets us is chaos.
Women cluster near the sleeping area, their voices rising in panicked bursts. At the center of the commotion lies Mikaela, a thin sheen of sweat cresting her dark skin, her chest heaving with labored breaths.
Alex kneels beside her, fingers pressed to Mikaela’s wrist. "Her pulse is racing," she says, her nurse's training evident in her clipped, efficient tone. "And she's burning up."
I push through the crowd, dropping to my knees beside them. "What happened?"
"She just collapsed," Tina explains, her voice shaking. "We were getting ready for the day, and she said she felt dizzy, and then—" She gestures helplessly at Mikaela’s prone form.
I place my palm on Mikaela’s forehead and jerk back immediately. She's not just warm—she's scorching hot.
