Page 42 of The Huntmaster

I felt the heavy, insistent throb of my length hardening against the coarse leather of my loin-wrap, a painful, straining tension that demanded a release I could not give it.

Every muscle in my thighs coiled with a restless, agonising energy. I closed my eyes, but that only made it worse. In the dark of my mind, I didn't see the Barrens. I saw Lyra. I saw the way her throat had arched back in the thicket, the way her small, pale hands had fisted in the moss, and the way her scent—that sweet, sharp, star-born musk—had filled my senses until I was drowning in it.

The mere thought of her mouth, of the sound she had made when I tasted her, sent a fresh jolt of electricity through me. I was rock-hard now, my pulse drumming against the leather until it was a maddening ache. I wanted to reach for myself, to find some fleeting, hollow relief in the dark, but I knew it wouldn't be enough. I didn't just want the release. I wanted her. I wanted to feel her gasping beneath me, to feel her Pulse—if she even had one—trying to find the rhythm of my own.

I let out a low, tortured groan that echoed off the damp stone walls. My hand curled into a fist, my claws digging deep into my own palm until the sting of pain offered a momentary, flickering distraction from the hunger in my groin.

I would stay here. I would wait for the moons to set and the fever to dim into a manageable ember. But even as the frost began to coat my skin, the image of her was a brand on the inside of my eyelids, and the weight of my own desire was a shackle I couldn't break.

"Not yet," I whispered into the freezing dark. "I cannot touch you yet."

Chapter 28

Lyra

The walk back to the primary Nest was different from the walk out. When Toren and I had descended into the lower canopy earlier that morning, the village had been a place of quiet industry—weaving, sharpening, and soft-spoken coordination. Now, as the twin suns dipped below the horizon and the three moons began their slow, synchronised ascent, the very atmosphere had curdled into something thick, electric, and heavy with unspoken intent.

The air felt charged, like the static build-up before a massive thunderstorm that refused to break.

As we crossed the high-altitude bridges, I noticed the change in the Tribe. It was subtle at first, then impossible to ignore. The younger males were prowling, their movements fluid and predatory in a way that made my skin crawl. Their markings weren't the steady, calming blue or gold I was used to; they pulsed in a rapid staccato, casting long shadows against the ancient bark of the tree. Even the way they looked at me had shifted. Gone was the wary curiosity toward the ‘star-woman.’ In its place was a heavy, hooded intensity that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up.

It wasn't just them. The females were different, too—their movements sharper, their voices lower. A strange, melodic trill was vibrating in their throats, a sound that seemed to resonate with the rising silver light of the moons.

"The air is... vibrating," I whispered, rubbing my arms to ward off a chill that wasn't there. "Do you feel that, Toren? It’s like a low-frequency hum in my teeth."

Toren didn't look at me. His own blue markings flickered with a restless, twitchy energy I hadn't seen all day. His jaw was set so tight I could see the muscles leaping in his neck. "It is the Alignment, Ly-ra. The Tree is waking up. The Pulse is beginning to peak."

When we reached the fork leading to Kaelen’s hut, Toren stopped abruptly. He didn't offer to walk me to the door this time or linger to make a joke. He stood at the edge of the vine-bridge, his eyes fixed on the silver light reflecting off the distant canopy.

"Go inside," he said, his voice unusually gruff, stripped of its usual playful edge. "And stay there. Secure the latch. Do not come out for the night, no matter what sounds you hear from the village or the canopy below."

I blinked, taken aback by his sudden, icy distance. "Toren? What’s going on? You’re acting like there’s a war coming."

"The phase is starting," he replied, finally meeting my eyes. His pupils were blown so wide they had nearly swallowed the amber of his irises, leaving him looking more feral than friend. "We need to adjust. We need to prepare our blood for the height of the moons. It is a... private time for the Tribe. A time of transition that even a Hunter’s discipline cannot fully mask. You are not of the Pulse, but the forest will not care. Go. Rest."

He didn't wait for a response. He turned and disappeared into the shadows of the secondary branches with a speed that was almost frantic, leaving me alone on the swaying bridge.

I stood there for a moment, feeling the heavy, expectant silence of the village. It felt like the whole world was holding its breath, a coiled spring waiting for a fuse to reach the powder.

I scrambled into Kaelen’s hut, the woven door clicking shut behind me with a finality that made my heart race. The room was bathed in the dim, cool light of the silver moss, but the air inside felt stifling. It was hot—oppressively, unseasonably hot.

I moved to the stone basin to splash my face, but the water felt lukewarm against my skin. My face was flushed, a strange, restless heat radiating from my core and spreading through my limbs like a slow-moving fever. Is it the moons? I wondered, my fingers trembling as I gripped the basin’s edge. Can they really affect me, too?

I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. It was impossible. I was human. I didn't have their biology; I didn't have their markings or their ancient connection to the Tree. It was probably just the humidity, or the stress of the day, or the lingering effects of the Sun-Stinger venom still working its way through my system.

But as the heat intensified, making the leather of my tunic feel like a suit of lead, I couldn't take it anymore. I stripped, letting the heavy garments fall in a heap on the mossy floor until I was standing naked in the centre of the room. The cool air hit my skin, providing a fleeting, blissful relief, but the internal fire remained—a low, insistent thrum in my lower belly that made my breath come in short, shallow gasps.

I crawled onto the furs, the soft pelts feeling strangely abrasive, almost electric, against my sensitised skin. I rolled onto my back and stared up at the dark canopy of the hut’s ceiling, my mind racing.

Where is he?

The question wasn't just a thought; it was a physical ache. Toren said he was at the southern border for some "audit," some official business that kept him far away from the Nest—and far away from me. I wondered if he was standing in some distant thicket right now, looking up at the same three moons, or if he was so focused on his duty that he didn't feel the strange, magnetic pull that was currently making my blood boil.

I lay there in the silence, my body humming with a restlessness I couldn't explain. I imagined him out there in the dark, cold and untouchable, while I was here, burning up in the space he’d left behind. I curled onto my side, clutching the furs to my chest, listening to the wild calls of the forest and wondering why the empty hut felt so much more dangerous than the jungle itself.

Chapter 29

Kaelen-Thul