Page 129 of Tharn's Hunt
It’s strange how quickly the impossible becomes routine. A month ago, the idea of living in a cave with giant golden aliens would have been a fever dream. Now, the rhythmic scrape of their knives and the low murmur of their thoughts in the mindspace is just... the background noise of my afternoon.
I glance over at Tharn, who's now wrapping the scraped skin around a stone pillar, his sharp golden eyes tracking my every move in that quiet, intense way he has. His presence in the mindspace suddenly gives me a pulse of warmth that wraps around me like sunlight through an open window.
He's proud of me. I can feel it, even without him saying a word.
"Stop staring at me like that," I project, teasing.
"Why?" he projects back, his voice tinged with amusement. "You are mine. I will look whenever I wish."
I roll my eyes, but can't help the way my lips curve into a smile.
Beside me, Mikaela's laughter cuts off abruptly, and I follow her gaze to the group of Drakav males entering the main chamber. Most are returning from a hunt, their golden skin dusted with fine sand that seems to cling to everything outside. But Mikaela's focus has zeroed in on one in particular.
Sarven.
His red eyes are locked on her like she's the only person in the room. He doesn't move, doesn't say anything, but his claws flex at his sides, and I recognize the tension in his stance.
It's the same way Tharn used to look at me before I realized this whole bond thing was happening between us.
Mikaela flushes, her gaze darting away as if trying to escape his intensity. But her hands tremble slightly as she sets down the smartwatch, and I don't miss the way her eyes flicker back to him, like a moth drawn to a flame.
Interesting.
I make a mental note to follow up on that later, but for now, there's something else I want to focus on.
"Tharn," I project, turning to him. "Come with me."
He straightens immediately, pushing off the pillar with fluid grace. "Where?"
I don't answer, just grab his hand and start walking.
He follows without hesitation, his larger frame blocking out the light briefly as we pass through the tunnel that leads to our alcove. The moment we're alone, I stop and turn to face him.
"Thank you," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
His head tilts, confusion rippling through the mindspace. "For what, my light?"
"For everything," I say, stepping closer. "For helping the women. For helping me. For being... you."
His claws flex at his sides, the only outward sign of tension before he reaches for me, his hands settling on my waist.
"You do not need to thank me," he projects, his voice rough with emotion. "You already know…I would tear this world apart for you."
The words steal my breath.
"I know," I whisper, leaning into him.
His claws dig into my hips as he backs me against the cave wall. The soft dust-serpent scales of my dress scrape against the rough stone.
"Off," he growls, already tugging at the sinew ties along my shoulder. I help him, fingers fumbling from how he’s biting a path down my throat, how his hands are everywhere at once.
The loincloth is gone before I can blink, tossed aside with a flick of his claws. He doesn’t give me time to think, to breathe. Just lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he pins me to the wall.
One thrust and he’s buried to the hilt, his snarl vibrating through my chest as I gasp.
Beyond our alcove, the caves hum with life.
But here?
