Mated to the Warrior Beast

“Please,” he said quietly, calmly. “Trust me.”

Elreth stared at him and Tarkyn waited.

He remembered a conversation with Behryn after the war with the humans. Behryn was the former King, Elreth’s father’s, best friend. He’d been Second only to the King, and an intimate of the entire family. And he was the former Captain of the Guard.

After the war with the humans Tarkyn had sought him out for wisdom on how to handle Elreth’s somewhat erratic instructions in the wake of war.

Behryn had told him that Elreth reminded him more and more of Aymora-her adoptive Grandmother.

“Aymora was a wonderful, compassionate female,” Behryn had said with a sad smile. “Wise and strong. But when people she loved were in pain, she could cut the throat out of an enemy and smile while she did it. She never had Reth’s reticence for violence. And I wonder how much of her bloodlust has rubbed off on Elreth. You’ll need to keep a rein on her, Tarkyn. Remind her of the lives of the people-don’t let her view the world in terms of conflict, but terms of hearts. And you’ll need to do that, as well.”

Tarkyn had nodded, but dismissed the advice for himself somewhat, focusing instead on Elreth’s need for it. Now he thought he understood Behryn’s words better... for both of them.

.....

He was determined to be the tool in the Queen’s hands to make the difference between a negotiation, and a declaration of war.

So he held her eyes a moment longer after the plea, but then turned back to Zev.

Looking at how this soldier was suffering... his heart wanted to despair. If he were in the male’s shoes, with all these Alphas standing over him, he wouldn’t feel safe to speak either. He’d fear that every word out of his mouth might be used against him.

“Please, El. He needs space and time. Let me talk to him. Alone. I’ll bring it all back to you. But he has a Warrior’s heart, just like mine. Give him space to breathe. We need to get all these people away. We’re standing over him like...”

Tarkyn was lost, but Gar broke in.

“Like he’s a prisoner.”

Elreth snorted. “He is.”

Tarkyn sighed. “El, if that were me, or Gar, or your mate... how would you want us to be treated by them? Let him see that we have mercy. Let these people see that we have hearts!”

Elreth and Sasha looked at each other then and something startling passed between them that he didn’t understand. But he couldn’t ask.

Sasha nodded, her brow crinkled with worry. “Please,” she said quietly.

Elreth sighed then threw up her hands. “Fine. We’ll go outside. But you commit to nothing, and you decide nothing without filling me in first. This is an open line of communication, Tarkyn. Not the negotiation table.”

He nodded quickly. “I know. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Sasha said quietly. Her voice was tight and she didn’t smile, but she offered the words.

Elreth nodded at her, then gestured to the others to follow. Gar was the last to file out and he looked at Tarkyn pointedly before he stepped out of the tree. Tarkyn wasn’t sure what the War Chief was thinking, but he didn’t have time to find out just then.

He waited until the door closed behind them, then let himself sag a little, shaking out his arms and letting his body relax before he turned back to the wolf.

Zev. His name was Zev.

When he did turn back, it was with a deep breath and a casual stance, praying that the male would reflect him.

“That will be easier,” he said, ignoring the presence of Sasha, thankful that the baby seemed to be settling. His cries and sounds would only remind Zev of his protective instincts. “I want you to know that my mate and I share the bond that you share with yours-she’s able to speak in my head even though I’m not a wolf.”

“You’re ardent!?” Sasha gasped, sitting up straighter.

Tarkyn blinked. “I... don’t know what that means. All I know is that we can share thoughts and I can feel her-her feelings, her body. We are connected in ways I never imagined and it lights me up to my bones. I love her with everything within me.” Then he turned back to Zev. “When I heard her story of what they’d done to her-and not even the depth of it. Just the description of that life... it broke my heart. And while she didn’t go into great detail, she also shared her heartbreak for you, Zev, and what you’ve been through. Alone, as I understand it?”

Sasha’s breath was coming faster, she looked quickly at her mate whose eyes had sharpened on Tarkyn’s. For the first time he nodded, a single, short dip of his chin. But it was a response. Tarkyn’s heart sang with hope.

He laid out what he knew of Harth’s story-and some of the less personal memories she’d shared with him. And slowly, he watched the male’s shoulders settle lower, and his arms loosen at his sides, though he never removed his hands from the floor, ready to throw himself forward and into action. But he was clearly listening.

“...after hearing all of that I can see that we share an enemy. That your training and skill is hard-won. I want to bring our peoples together, Zev. I want my mate safe to walk freely in Anima without threat from my people, and I want to walk safely among hers.”

“Do you?” The words were short, quiet, and muttered, but they were the first he’d spoken and Tarkyn’s heart leaped again.

“Yes,” he replied emphatically. “But it’s also my job to ensure that the people of the Queen are safe. I hold great respect for your skill and strength, Zev. I’ve attempted to acknowledge that more than once. I respect what you went through to achieve that strength-and I respect that you are a fierce adversary. But you are an adversary I do not want to fight. I want to find a way to cross the space between us. I do not want to meet you on the battlefield.”

He’d expected another long pause while the wolf considered that, so it was something of a shock when Zev pushed smoothly to his feet and walked closer, though still keeping himself out of reach of the bars.

“You’re wise to see that,” he muttered. “Because you’re right, you don’t want to meet me on the battlefield.”

And then the male launched into a tale that broke Tarkyn’s heart... and brought a chill to his stomach.

He’d had no clue. Not the tiniest clue.

Dread coated his ribs.