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~ HARTH ~

Harth woke the morning of the peace talks exhausted and exhilarated and confused.

The news of Zev’s announcement and the impending meeting with the Anima had spread like wildfire. Even the hunters and others who’d been out of the encampment knew what was coming within minutes of returning home.

The Chimera buzzed with anticipation that swung quickly between fear and hope. No one seemed to know what to think.

On the one hand, Zev was incredibly tense and aggressive, which led them towards fear. And yet, there were Anima among them acting peaceably and proving to be unthreatening. They were strong, but personable.

And they’d all suddenly heard of Harth and Skhal’s mates—which sent the young Chimera buzzing. Could there be mates for them among the Anima?

No one knew what to think. Including Harth. She and Tarkyn had discussed it late into the night, one minute her mind full of images of peace finally attained—Anima and Chimera finding common ground, smiling at each other… happy. Relaxed.

.....

Yet, the next, she’d see Zev going for Elreth’s throat and the hell that would break loose in that moment if he did.

Lerrin and Suhle had assured Zev and Skhal that Elreth planned to bring only three hundred Anima with her, to keep the numbers mostly even. But apparently Zev hadn’t been able to decide if that was a good thing—indecisive about whether he wanted eyes on the Anima, or the less-threatening gathering in which neither side was greatly out-populated.

Swings and roundabouts. Indecision and hope. No one seemed to know how to feel.

Including Harth.

But Tarkyn… Tarkyn worried her. From the moment he’d seen Zev announce the meeting, his demeanor had changed. He’d taken her with such savage desperation after that. She’d loved it, careless that the guards would be able to hear them unless they turned their ears away. But she hadn’t cared. She’d found herself suddenly desperate too.

Except… except neither of them was satisfied. Their roller coaster night had included sudden, vicious need… sated only to dissolve into emotional clinging… only to become fear, and then more vicious need.

Exhausted. Exhilarated. Confused.

She lay there in the furs unwilling to move because Tarkyn was actually sleeping. She didn’t dare wake him. And the morbid piece of her, the part that recognized the danger of this day, wanted to crystallize the memory in her mind of Tarkyn leaning on her side, his thick arm thrown across her stomach and his lips resting on her shoulder.

She was warm and protected and loved.

She’d spent most of her life wishing for this kind of moment—yet when it happened, she found the joy it brought was shadowed by the threat of what might come. That made her sad. She’d imagined this moment, or some like it, so many times. To have it tainted…

Harth sighed, but stayed still, turning only her head to examine her mate, his strong, fierce face softened in sleep.

Following the lines of his cheekbones, the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw with her eyes, she ached to touch it. To wake him slowly, to take his lips, then his tongue, to claw her fingers across his scalp, then down his back—

“Gar tells me that what you’re doing is called stalking in the human world, and considered a perversion,” Tarkyn rumbled, his arm tightening across her middle.

Harth snorted. “Gar doesn’t know what he’s talking about. It’s only stalking if I stare at you when you don’t know that I’m there. And usually through a window, or I’ve broken and entered and—”

“Harth?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he growled, pulling himself up and over her, nudging her knees wide so he could settle between her thighs, pressing himself against her as he let his lips trace over hers.

Harth’s heart immediately began to flutter and race. She wrapped her arms around his muscular back and smiled into his kiss, locking her ankles behind his waist as he nudged her.

She gave a happy sigh and let her head drop back as Tarkyn, growling about being woken by his very own, God-given pervert, kissed his way down her neck.

She snorted, but as his body came alive and his kisses grew more heated, as her own body began to tingle and pebble under his touch, she could feel her mate tensing, his grip on her becoming tighter, his movements more aggressive—not out of anger, but fear.

As he kissed his way under her throat and around to that space under her other ear, Harth let her head sink back and her fingers claw into his hair.

“Tarkyn, are you okay?”

He froze in the act of licking the shell of her ear, then lifted his head to meet her eyes—his own puffy and shadowed with lack of sleep, but also bright and fixed on her.

“Of course I’m not—are you?” he muttered.

Harth shook her head. “But you seem… tenser. I’m nervous. But I have hope. Are you… don’t you have hope?”

Tarkyn blew out a breath and rolled off of her, pulling his hands up to rub his face.

Harth’s heart sank as she rolled to push up on her elbow and lean over him. She shouldn’t have said anything. But she’d been able to feel him going tense and they only had a few hours…

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just—”

“It’s fine, Harth. I just…” he sighed again and let his hands drop, then looked up at her, his eyes sad and tight. “I was present when the rebel wolves met with the former King,” he said slowly. “I was young, but I was there. I walked into that day confident and excited—nervous, of course, but… in my youth and vigor I’d had no doubt that Reth would be victorious. And he was.”

Harth frowned. “That makes you sad?”

He shook his head. “I saw two Alphas humble themselves that day,” he said softly, lifting a finger to push back a strand of hair from her face. “And if the story ended there it would have been such a wonderful thing to have seen. But it didn’t. Harth, the people… the people fought. They could not put aside their egos long enough to find peace, even when it was offered to them. That was the day I learned the truth about pride. Not the lion pride—the pride in our hearts. That was the day I learned that even when we do the right thing, the correct thing, others may destroy what we have achieved through nothing more than an unwillingness to be seen defeated.”

He pushed up on his elbow too, then, taller than her, so higher. He cupped her face and searched her eyes. “I had nothing to lose but my own life that day… I have not met combat with anything to lose but my own life before. Today… today if this goes wrong I will lose so much more. And I find I am… not prepared. Harth, love, I am not equipped for this. The thought of losing you… it eviscerates me.”