Mated to the Warrior Beast

*****

~ HARTH ~

Neither of the tigers seemed concerned about her pain. They certainly didn’t pay much attention.

The tiger who’d found her, dumped her on her ass at the base of a narrow tree just feet from Sasha, and half-facing her. Harth tried to keep herself upright, but her body refused to listen, and she slumped to the side, her injured shoulder high as her entire body trembled.

Through the haze of pain, Harth stared at Sasha, pleading with her to look, to see her, to find hope. But now, seeing her from the front, it was clear that Sasha was either knocked out, or drugged.

What Harth had taken as Sasha looking down, perhaps keeping her eyes away from her captors so she wouldn’t be seen to challenge them, was actually the slump of unconsciousness.

The woman was pale, her skin almost gray. And her heart was slow… too slow.

Harth willed her body to respond, to let her press up and onto her feet—to run! But every movement sent electric jolts of pain through her entire body and up the back of her neck.

.....

Then the Tiger leaned down, roughly picking Harth up by her hair and sitting her upright again. As Harth gritted her teeth and tried desperately not to scream, not to give them that satisfaction, the male leaned her against a tree—the arrow scraping on its bark and jangling pain through her again and again.

“Y-you won’t win th-this,” she growled, eyes squinting against the pain. “If you k-kill her… he’ll k-kill you.”

The male didn’t respond. Didn’t even meet her eyes.

But in her head, her mate’s voice echoed, again and again. ‘I’m coming, Harth. Just stay safe. I’m coming.’

Harth closed her eyes long enough to try and control the shivering. She recognized the signs: her body was going into shock. If she didn’t calm, she would stop being able to think at all. And she needed a clear head to guide Tarkyn when he showed up to save them.

He would show up. She knew he would. She only had to keep her head down and not cause trouble until–

The guard who’d found her and tied her had already walked away. She couldn’t sit up straight, because whenever she did, the arrow sticking out of the back of her shoulder would hit on the tree, shoving pain and lightning through her entire body.

So she was forced to sit hunched forward over her own legs. That made it more painful to look up. So when those heavy footsteps approached, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose, trying desperately to catch the scent of the male so she could pass it on to Tarkyn through the bond, or other wolves when they were close enough. Though she was worried about that too.

She didn’t have an intimate relationship with any of the wolves that were approaching that she knew of. Between that and the pain and stress, the ability to link was limited. Especially since the others couldn’t form the link with Tarkyn. She had less of her mind to offer because she was working so hard to keep him away from her physical sensations. She should have practiced that more! But she had so enjoyed just giving herself to him so completely... Until Zev had beaten Tarkyn and she’d had to endure it, she’d never imagined a scenario in which she wouldn’t want Tarkyn to feel everything she felt.

She’d worked on her control a bit after that. But so much had been going on…

With her slumped over, she could see when the heavy feet and thick legs came to a stop at her toes. But she didn’t see the Tiger’s face until he squatted down, elbows on his knees, and staring at her.

Of course. She should have known.

Lor was an older Tiger, well into his forties, perhaps even fifty. A peer of Skhal’s, he’d been around… forever. Since before the humans were certain they were focusing on wolves.

His dark hair was shaggy and wild, swirling around his face, ears, and just brushing his shoulders. Peppered in the beginnings of gray that was also just starting to creep into stubble on his square jaw, he stared at her, expressionless.

He was strong—had been expected to fight for Alpha of All when Zev disappeared. But Xar had stepped forward and… Harth hadn’t really followed all that happened. All she knew was that the male was known. He was a presence. And yet, he kept to himself.

She hadn’t even known he was here in Anima. She should have known.

He’d always had a dark countenance—bright, golden eyes that matched his cat’s, and lines on his face that somehow only managed to make him look stronger.

He was broad and muscular, though not as tall as Zev. Powerful, rather than fast.

A typical tiger. One on one, they were a force to be reckoned with. But the wolves had always outnumbered them and stood behind their packs. The tigers were loners, sticking closely to their own families and so less likely to organize and support each other.

At least, that’s how it had been before Harth was taken to the human sanctuary.

Clearly things had changed.

“You’re a puzzle,” he said, his voice low and rough. Flat. He didn’t smile.

Harth, still hunched forward over her own knees, just waited to see what he would say.

He didn’t speak or move for several breaths. Then he reached for her. Harth flinched—groaning with the pain of it—when he took her chin and raised it, forcing her head back so she’d meet his eyes.

Harth hissed through her teeth against the pain, but met his gaze, her own defiant. She would not choose trouble, but she would not submit, either.

He didn’t seem to take pleasure in her pain, but examined her eyes. “Sit up.”

“I can’t,” she snarled. “There’s an arrow in my back.”

He didn’t even blink.