Mated to the Warrior Beast

56 Hair-Trigger – Part ~ TARKYN ~

An hour later as they stepped off the trail from the mountain and into the shadow of the WildWood canopy, Tarkyn had to roll his shoulders.

From the moment the guards had shown up, there had been an itch between his shoulder-blades. But he had no time for it, no energy or attention to give to it. His mate was here, and she was in fear and anger and uncertainty.

‘The Queen... have you ever mated with her?’ Harth murmured through the bond.

‘No!’ he replied, frantic. Grateful that it was true. ‘Harth, please... you have to believe me that the other females in my life have never held my heart. I’ve never felt with them what I felt with you. Never.’

She seemed mollified, and took his hand after that, but between the bond and her tense posture, he knew the conversation wasn’t done. She remained close-wanted to be close to him. He could feel it. And yet, something within her stayed guarded as well. Tarkyn’s tension increased. He had to fix this. Had to find space and time to talk, to explain.

He squeezed her hand and kept her close to his side, but his heart was heavy with grief.

From the incredible morning they’d had, to this in a blink... Was this how the matebond worked?

As they walked the trails towards the security council building, Tarkyn hovered over her, falling into command without thought, ordering the guards to stay back and leave them to walk at the center of the circle without interference.

.....

“Tark, we don’t have to bind you, but... we can’t just let her walk loose,” Mhagnus explained patiently. “You agreed to be with her under guard.”

“I’m not denying that,” Tarkyn snapped, then took a moment to breathe before he continued. “I’m asking you to give her space so she can be calm.”

And so he could, as well. Because whenever one of them edged closer his teeth began to grind.

Sarayu’s warning echoed in his head, but that just made him want to growl. Why had everyone decided the appearance of his mate had stolen his years of experience and honor?

But they made it through the trails without incident-circling wide of the Tree City itself so that Harth wouldn’t see it or be able to inform anyone of their numbers or resources.

Tarkyn understood it, admitted to himself that he would have ordered it for any other being who’d appeared as a stranger. And yet, it still rankled.

He rolled his shoulders again, teeth clenched against the pressure building in his chest. He was looking forward to being reunited with Elreth and talking some sense into her. This was going too far. Harth was his mate-the other half of him. Did his integrity and loyalty mean nothing?

But then, because they’d taken the long route to the other side of the city, they passed the prison trees and the scent of the Chimera within the nearest one.

Tarkyn felt Harth tense, felt her grief and anger surge as she scented her Alphas. And then, just as she turned to him with pleading in her eyes, the wail of a baby rose in the cold morning air.

Harth put her free hand to her throat. “Tarkyn... Can we just-”

He could see the image in her mind-them turning off the trail so Harth could offer support to her Alphas. And he wanted to give it to her-he did. But he knew Elreth would be waiting, and he’d intended to give every indication that he walked into that room just as much her servant-and Captain-as he’d ever been.

“Harth,” he started kindly, “We’ve been summoned, the Queen-”

“Just for a moment?” she pleaded, tugging him towards the side of the trail.

“No, there’s no time-”

One of the guards that surrounded them appeared suddenly on Harth’s other side, his spear-which had been slung across his back-now in hand.

“Back to the trail,” he ordered Harth calmly, but with the authority of one who would not accept disobedience.

Harth flinched-the guard had moved quickly to appear so close-and fear surged within her, lighting every warning fire in Tarkyn’s chest as if the Horn had been blown as a call to arms.

Muttering under his breath, Tarkyn shifted Harth behind him, to put himself between her and the soldier. “Just a moment, Mhagnus,” he snapped. “She’s my mate, there’s no need to-”

‘Wait!’ Harth gasped in his mind, but before he could even turn to see what had startled her, her warmth was gone from behind him, leaving nothing but a hollow chill at his back, and a scream in his head as his mate’s entire being lit up with panic.

The entire world slowed down as Tarkyn’s instincts, honed by decades of training, fighting, and war-and the jangling alarm of fear and rage that shot through the bond-shoved him to action.

Tarkyn was renowned, not only for his self-control and brilliant mind, but for his lethal skill. He had trained countless guards in hand-to-hand combat, sharing the wealth of both his natural talent, and his dedication to training. And yet, even with instruction and training from the male himself, he was yet to be bested by any Anima, head-to-head, though Gar, the Queen’s brother and War Chief, threatened to be the first to achieve it.

But Gar wasn’t there. And the mind of Tarkyn the Warrior, heralded as the Queen’s Champion, and the single most deadly Anima alive, had been triggered to defend against a threat.

It was not Tarkyn the strategist that turned in a flash to find his mate snarling, her skin rippling as she threatened to shift, while the other two guards who’d been behind them, tugged her away from him.

It was not Tarkyn the mentor whose body exploded into action against the guards who’d reached for his mate.

No.

Mindless of anything except that his mate was in danger, thoughtless of any responsibility beyond her safety, he leaped for the closest one with teeth bared, his roar startling birds from the trees above and echoing across the WildWood, announcing to any who would listen...

Tarkyn the Warrior had seen a threat. And he was of no doubt that he would remove it.

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