PATRON SHOUT OUT: Thank you for the name suggestion Kristin_Peterson! I love "Dar'tanyon" and I hope you enjoy his Anima-ized version!
If you'd like to receive advance access, unpublished material, and other extras--including naming characters, jump over to; p a t r e o n.com/authoraimee and join a tier! Can't wait to see you there!
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~ TARKYN ~
"That isn't TRUE!" Harth snarled, instinctively leaping to her feet and out from behind Tarkyn to face his soldiers directly. But while she jumped to defend the truth of her heart, soldiers saw nothing in her sudden movement except a threat.
Everything happened too quickly.
All four trained soldiers silently, lethally snapped their spears high and turned to follow her position, shifting to aim, instinctively poised to throw those flashing blades for her chest. To Tarkyn's eyes everything moved in slow motion—Harths hands rising to ask them to stop, their weapons leveled for mortal attacks, the soldiers sinking their weight and balancing themselves—she could be dead in a breath. Every glimmering nerve in Tarkyn's body screamed for her safety.
He shifted without though, roaring and leaping between her and the bristling spears in his massive, snarling lion, landing to crouch in front of her, tail lashing and teeth bared at the males.
The soldiers, all Equine, froze.
But he felt the immediate judgment in their eyes, too.
To shift in aggression was an unspoken promise for violence—deadly violence. It wasn't what Tarkyn had intended, but he was so shaken, so off-balance…
Deep in his beast, separated from his body, he suddenly had an alarming battle to wrestle back control and take his human form again. He was weak, too weak for this. His beast knew it and wished to protect him.
But even in his lion form, the four trained equines could take him easily when he was this depleted. He knew that. And so did they.
At least his shift stopped their advance.
Tarkyn regained control seconds later and shifted back, but the damage was done. Shifting to his beast was an act of aggression, and he was their Captain. His stomach sank knowing he would answer to the Queen herself for this, but he shoved the thoughts aside, his entire body quivering—weakening—as he desperately tried to make sense of what he was hearing, what his soldiers believed, and what the males intended.
Then that impossible link between them resonated with her voice in his head—he'd known wolves could use it with each other, but he'd never heard of one speaking to another species.
'Tarkyn, you have to believe me. We came here to escape, not attack! You didn't ask me about the others—I was going to tell you. But I was so excited to find you—'
He hissed to silence her, but unaware of her abilities, his soldiers took it as a caution to them and they tensed further.
Tarkyn growled in frustration. "I do not mean to harm you," he muttered. "But you must not touch her. She is under my protection until… until we sort this out."
He'd meant the statement to reassure the males that he was listening, that they didn't need to fear he'd been blinded or that his mind was weak.
But his heart cracked at the immediate wave of fear that washed into Harth's scent the moment he said those words.
His mate should never fear him.
She didn't speak to him in his head again and Tarkyn burned to turn and look at her, measure her, hold her, chasten her… to make her see that he didn't waver, only worked to keep her safe. But his head spun with too many questions, too many urges. And he couldn't turn from his soldiers while they held weapons to threaten her.
"Tarkyn," Dhartanyn said, his tone frustrated. "Please… We move on the Queen's direct orders to protect any Anima from her—especially you!"
"I do not need protection from her!" he said through his teeth, but Dhartanyn, a thoughtful and reliable fist-leader only looked at him, pitying. Tarkyn wanted to snap his teeth, but knew if their roles were reversed, he too would be skeptical. Suspicious. He too would question the judgment of the male who was weak and had been dragged deep into the forest when he was unconscious by this strangely scented female who was somehow connected to their enemies.
He blew out a breath and held Dhartanyn's eyes. "Have you been informed about why I left the Tree City, what journey I embarked upon?"
The soldier nodded slowly, but his jaw tightened. Tarkyn knew the male's faith in the Creator had always been a shallow thing. He was a dominant and capable male, successful in his work, and one of the highest ranking of Tarkyn's men, and strongest warrior, despite being Equine. But that was part of the problem. It was easy for the strong to rely more on their own strength and knowledge than on the invisible power of a silent God. Tarkyn knew that truth well.
With a sigh, he looked at each of his soldiers in turn. "We cannot allow this to descend into violence. I beg your forgiveness for shifting and ask your grace. I know your hearts and that you are loyal and good. I know you wish to protect me, the Queen, and our people. But… she is not the threat you believe her to be. You have to see that I went to the Creator begging him to reveal my mate, and He has. She saved me from near death and we are… we were finding our way to completing the bond."
Dhartanyn's mouth thinned. He didn't like contradicting his commanding officer. "And you have to see that we are not in the Creator's mind and do not know what bond does or doesn't exist. But our Queen has been very clear: You are at risk. These people are a direct threat. And we are to take any we find back to the Queen, under guard, for interrogation."
Tarkyn growled at the mental image of these males surrounding his unclaimed mate, but he cut it off, breathing heavily, thinking as fast as he could.
He ached to turn and look at Harth, to pull her close and reassure her—and be reassured by her. She hadn't made a sound, hadn't moved. But he could scent her panic—and something that was her fluttered in his chest, a hint of her. He could feel her—and not just her fear, but her indignation as well. And the creeping nerves beneath both.
There were still secrets to reveal.
But in this moment he had a fist of soldiers to soothe, and apparently a Queen to answer to.
"Very well," he said reluctantly. "If you must take her, you'll take us both. Together."