Page 84 of Tharn's Hunt
"It grows worse," he projects privately, not a question but a statement.
I say nothing. There is no need. He can see the truth in the tightness of my movements, the strain in my features, the way my claws flex and unflex at my sides.
"When we reach the clan caves—" he begins, but I cut him off with a sharp mental hiss.
"I know what awaits," I project. "Your warnings are unnecessary."
A low rumble starts deep in Rok's chest, a sound of profound weariness. "Not warnings, brother. Counsel. The others will sense your distress immediately. And they will wonder about a female for themselves."
My claws extend fully at the thought of my clan-brothers looking at Jah-kee, at them learning of what stirs between us. A growl builds in my chest, unbidden and uncontrolled.
"They will not touch her," I project, the words edged with a possessiveness that surprises even me.
"No, they will not," Rok agrees, his mental voice soothing. "But they will watch. They will wonder. They will...hunger."
The growl escapes my throat before I can stop it, loud enough that both females turn to look at us. Jah-kee's expression shifts from concern to confusion, her gaze moving between me and Rok as if trying to decipher what caused my reaction.
I cannot meet her eyes. Not now. Not when the mere sight of her makes my member pulse painfully in its pouch, makes my skin glow brighter with need.
"What's going on?" she asks, her voice carrying easily in the still desert air.
Jus-teen glances at Rok, who projects a quick explanation to her. She chin-jerks, then turns to Jah-kee.
"Tharn's just a little... stressed," she vocalizes. "We're getting close to the clan territory. Lots of politics to navigate."
Jah-kee doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't press the issue. Instead, she slows her pace, falling back until she walks beside me while Jus-teen moves ahead with Rok.
My body responds instantly to her proximity. My skin glows brighter, my breaths stutter, my member strains even harder against its pouch. The pain-pleasure of it races through my veins like liquid fire.
"You don't have to pretend with me, you know," she says quietly, her water-blue eyes fixed on the horizon.
Her cheeks flush pink—a reaction I've noticed happens even more regularly now. It makes her even more beautiful, the color highlighting the delicate structure of her face.
"Tharn, you’re a mystery," she vocalizes, her voice slightly breathless. "But I'm glad I met you."
I want to touch her. Dust. I want to touch her. To run my claws gently over her skin, to press my forehead to hers and sink into the mindspace where vocalizations are unnecessary. To claim her completely, to make her mine in every way possible.
The wanting drowns out rational thought, obliterates caution, leaves only need in its wake.
Ahead of us, Rok and Jus-teen have paused, their heads bent close in conversation. As we approach, I catch the tail end of their exchange.
Rok’s eyes are alive with awareness, his expression grim. "Sand moved. Recently. Could be nothing. Could be?—"
He breaks off, his nostrils flaring as he scents the air. His posture changes instantly, shifting from relaxed to alert in a heartbeat.
He turns, catches my eye, and makes a series of subtle gestures with his hand. Warning signs. Used by the clan when stealth is required.
Danger. Below. Move carefully.
But the signals barely register through the haze of need and pain that clouds my mind. I see his movements, recognize them as important, but their meaning slides away before I can grasp it.
All I can focus on is Rok, his hand too near Jah-kee, his presence a violation. A growl builds in my throat at the sight, irrational but unstoppable.
Mine. Not his.Mine.
I know it makes no sense. Rok is bonded to Jus-teen. But the beast in my blood does not care for sense. It only cares that another male stands too close to what is mine.
"Tharn," Rok projects sharply, his mental voice cutting through my distraction. "Focus. Dust serpent."
