Page 65 of Tharn's Hunt
“What's wrong with your chest? Are you sick? Are you allergic to me or something?”
Tharn pauses mid-step, his head snapping up to look at me. For a second, my heart leaps—did it work?—but then I realize I've been staring at him so intensely that he's probably just noticed my attention.
His amber eyes lock with mine, and something passes between us. Something that makes my skin prickle with awareness. He looks... pained. Conflicted. His hand is still pressed to his chest, and his claws flex against his skin as if he's trying to dig out whatever's bothering him.
"Oh my God, is it the water thing?" I blurt out, unable to contain my frustration any longer. "It's the water thing, isn't it. You're mad I drank too much. I knew it!"
Tharn blinks, clearly startled by my outburst. Across the cave, Justine chokes on a laugh.
"It's not the water, Jacqui," she says, shaking her head. "Trust me on that."
"Then what is it?" I demand, my patience wearing thin. "Why does he keep clutching his chest like he's having a heart attack? Why won't he come closer? Why does he look at me like I'm... like I'm..."
I trail off, not even sure how to describe the way Tharn looks at me sometimes. Like I'm something dangerous but fascinating. Like I'm...
“It's complicated," Justine says, her voice gentler now. "Alien biology is... different. And their connection to us is... well, it's not exactly like anything we have on Earth."
"Great," I mutter. "More cryptic answers. Just what I needed."
I flop back against the stone, frustration bubbling under my skin like a pot about to boil over. My muscles ache, my head throbs, and there’s this weird, restless itchiness I can’t seem toshake. Maybe it’s just the aftermath of nearly dying. Or maybe it’s the fact that everyone seems to know what’s going on except me.
"Look, Jacqui," Justine starts hesitantly, and I glance over at her. She’s fidgeting, which isn’t like her. She’s usually so composed. "It’s not like I have all the answers, okay? Half the time, I’m just trying to figure this out as I go."
I sit up again, wincing at the soreness in my body. "Figure what out, Justine? Because from where I’m sitting, it sure looks like you’ve got this whole alien telepathic survival thing down. Meanwhile, I can’t even tell if Tharn hates me or if he’s just constipated."
Justine snorts, but there’s no humor in it. She runs a hand through her hair, staring at the fire with a furrowed brow. "Look, I know this is going to sound insane, but... I think the planet is alive."
My lashes flutter as I blink at her. "Alive?” I laugh, but the serious look on her face wipes the mirth from my lips. “Like... what? A giant brain under the sand or something?"
She shoots me an unimpressed look. "No, smartass. Not like that. But there’s something here—particles or... I don’t know, spores or something—that’s doing things to us. To me. To you."
I stiffen, because I saw those particles. Early on, when I met Tharn and saw his glow. I thought I saw pollen in my mind.
"Doing what to us?" I whisper.
Justine hesitates, and for a moment, I think she won’t answer. But then she sighs and rubs the back of her neck. "When I first got here, I was sick too. Fevers, dreams... vivid ones."
I straighten, my pulse quickening. "Dreams?" I’ve had those too. Vivid as she says.
Her eyes flick to mine, and there’s something guarded in her expression. She nods slowly. "Yeah. At first, I thought they were just fever dreams. I’d see these... particles floating in the air.They’d sink into my skin, my mouth, my lungs. It felt... strange, but not bad. Like they were changing me somehow."
I shiver, suddenly hyperaware of the air we’re breathing in.
"And then," Justine continues, her voice quieter now, "there were other dreams. Dreams where I’d see Rok. Only... it wasn’t just seeing him."
Her cheeks flush pink, and she clears her throat, glancing away.
Oh no.
My stomach drops as I realize where this is going.
"And?" I prompt, even though I’m not sure I want the answer.
"And..." She gestures vaguely, her hand flapping in a way that’s supposed to mean something but just leaves me more confused. When I don’t respond, she groans and tries again. "You know. Dreams.Those kinds of dreams."
Oh God.
I slap a hand over my face, groaning. "Justine, I swear to God, if you’re about to tell me you had sex dreams about an alien?—"
