Mated to the Warrior Beast

57 Hair-Trigger – Part If you like music while you read, try “Lion” by Saint Mesa. It’s what I was listening to while writing this chapter!

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~ HARTH ~

It happened too quickly.

Harth had stepped from the path, tugging at Tarkyn’s arm, in her deepest self knowing there was likely no way they could divert. But they were so close to Sasha and Zev, and the thin wail of the unhappy Zan had tugged at her heart.

But even as her foot slipped off a root at the side of the trail and she stumbled, even as Tarkyn slipped past her with his hands forward to slow the approach of the Sergeant who’d seemed reasonable about giving her space when they set out, a set of calloused hands landed on her arm and tugged her back.

If she’d had time, if she’d seen them approach, it might have been different.

But her attention had been split between the cry of her Alpha’s child in the tree, and the soldier in front of her who’d approached to warn her.

As the unknown male behind pulled her back, gently but firmly, it startled her, and panic lit in her chest.

.....

‘Wait!’ she screamed in her mind, as her body came alive with adrenaline and fear, her instincts convinced that she’d once again fallen into the hands of the humans who might leave them alone for months, only to appear unexpectedly and steal them away to pain and destruction.

And to her horror, Tarkyn became a deadly blur.

Before she could take a second breath he was gone from before her. A smack and a grunt sounded just behind her right ear, then suddenly the pressure on her arm disappeared.

She couldn’t turn in time to catch him, though, as the Guards-all trained, all deadly in their own right-leaped into the fray.

And even as her panicked body continued to scream in fear, the tiniest part of her head and heart that could think cried out in warning as Tarkyn threw himself into battle against his own men.

He darted and flowed, turned and lashed, faster than a whip, smoother than water over stone-for seconds, Harth stood, open mouthed in shock, as her mate became a whirlwind of force, dropping the guard who’d touched her to ground, unconscious, then twisting around her, sinking to sweep the legs of the next Guard who came to the first one’s defense.

Harth had seen clashes between Alphas before. She’d even seen a male Chimera fight for his life against a team of human scientists, snapping one neck and knocking another out cold before the rest could use their weapons to drop him.

But she’d never seen anything like this.

Her mate was a blur. Silent, yet deadly, and so fast that the trees still shook with his roar when the second Guard cried out and fell.

But no matter how quick he might be, no matter how skilled, Tarkyn was mortal and could not inhabit two spaces at once.

With a shout, the Sergeant, and the fourth guard closed on him as he took the second guard to the ground.

“Tarkyn, STOP!” Mhagnus snarled, becoming his own dark whirlwind to break Tarkyn’s grip on the soldier he’d folded in half, while the other descended as well.

As quickly as he’d brought them to battle, the combined weight and strength of the three conscious guards brought Tarkyn to his knees-one catching him while his grip was still on the guard he was attempting to overcome, while the other leaped into the fray and, aiding the guard he’d been wrestling, it was Tarkyn who was suddenly on the ground, immobilized-though only by the obvious efforts of his own men.

“My mate!”

“Tarkyn! Stop! No one is-”

Hissing and snarling, his back rippling towards the shift, Tarkyn roared again, arching and struggling against the grip of all three males who all sucked closer, fighting to keep him restrained.

Harth took a stumbling step forward, reaching for him, pleading with him in his mind to calm, that she hadn’t been hurt-but then they flipped him and one of the males wrenched his arm behind his back.

Harth gasped as pain ripped through his shoulder. She stumbled forward as his fear and rage slammed through her in the bond-though he ignored his own pain and fought, screaming for release.

Heedless of anything but him, Harth rushed forward. “You’re hurting him!” but the words broke from her throat in a guttural snarl just as more of the guards rushed from the nearby prison tree to help.

Then Harth was tumbled too, screaming and growling, head buzzing with panic as too many hands, too many males, too many unknown scents descended upon her.

She couldn’t think. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe.

She held control of her beast by a thread, a hair that threatened to snap at any second, while she struggled and snarled.

Only that voice, deep within her, that called to her mate, and eased in the soothing warmth of his love, only the cool wisdom that would prevail when her body returned to calm, stopped her from shifting and taking throats. Only the shrieking fear that if she killed one of these males, her mate would be taken from her, stopped her bared teeth.

But as more soldiers arrived, and her body tried to flee but was held by unknown hands, Harth began to tremble.

And so she prayed.

She prayed as she was jerked over, turned to her belly, and her hands forced behind her back.

She prayed as voices raised around her so loudly the frantic wail of her Alpha’s child was drowned out.

And she prayed when she was yanked upwards and carried, struggling, but bound so that no matter how she fought, the ties only cut into the skin of her wrists and ankles.

She prayed through the screaming fear, and the agonizing despair as her mate was also lifted between strong arms, growling and fighting, and carried deeper into the shadow of the trees of the cursed place they called WildWood.