You

~ HARTH ~

Harth was dragged from the deep sleep of exhaustion by a shadow passing over her.

She opened her eyes, her heart thrilling for reasons she couldn't immediately remember, to find herself laying on a fur alone. The sound of the rushing river filled her ears, and the light of daylight filtered by a forest shone down, glittering on water just feet from where she lay.

But bright as the morning felt, shining beyond the rock ceiling over her, the shadow she'd perceived was tall, male, and standing over her… with a spear?

Harth blinked.

Instinctively she took in the sight of him, measuring the warm brown of his skin marred by scars and tattoos, noting that though his grip on the spear seemed firm, and his stance was wide and defensive, braced for attack, he breathed too quickly and shallowly, and his face was pale and sheened in sweat.

On one hand, sweat was good. It meant he was rehydrated.

But taken with everything else, it also meant he was struggling, and using the little energy he had to level that spear at her.

"Tarkyn," she said softly, her voice husky from sleep, "you do not need to fear—"

"Who are you? Where did you come from? Are you part of Lerrin's tribe? Or—"

"Who's Lerrin?"

His jaw tightened, his brows pinching together over his nose. His golden-brown eyes glowed with aggression, but flashed with fear as well.

"Don't you remember?" she asked quietly when he didn't respond. "I'm Harth. I found you yesterday. You were almost dead."

"You're a wolf!"

She nodded. "And you're a… cat?"

He growled. "A lion."

Harth had to stifle a smile. The tigers were similarly prickly about their species. They weren't above throwing the word "dog" at an annoying wolf, though. Apparently sensing her humor, Tarkyn's face hardened further.

Her eyes widened as he took a step closer so the point of that spear was just inches from her throat.

Her hackles stood up, but Harth reminded herself that he'd just woken in a strange place, feeling weak, and with an unknown wolf beside him.

He was clearly some kind of warrior. While her contact with males had been limited, one thing she understood of them—they usually chose to fight when confused or afraid, to make themselves feel strong.

He flinched when she began to sit up, but she moved slowly so he wouldn't feel threatened, getting her feet under her, then slowly standing straight, never letting her eyes leave his.

When she was upright—and he had still had that spear pointed at her chest—she smiled.

"You don't need that, Tarkyn. I'd never hurt you. I vowed to protect you."

His brows shot up and he huffed arrogantly, but the point of the spear wavered for the first time.

Harth frowned. "You're still weak. You need to rest and get out of the sun."

The rays shone in the front of the cave, falling golden and warm over his legs and back.

But when she shifted her weight as if she might step towards him, he lifted the spear so it pointed at her throat again.

When he spoke it was through gritted teeth. "Who are you? Where is your tribe? I know all the Anima wolves who lived in the tree city. You have never been among them. Why… why do you stink of humans? We killed them all, yet here you are—do you work for them? Tell me!"

Harth flinched at the harsh command in his tone, and for the first time, fear fluttered in her chest. But it was followed quickly by rage.

*****

~ TARKYN ~

The female's eyes widened—then narrowed in anger.

"No, I am not one of the humans!" she spat. "I hate them! They forced me from my home and hurt my family—they took everything from us!"

Suddenly gripped with the urge to throw the weapon aside and wrap her in his arms, Tarkyn had to blink and force himself to remain wary. "Then why do you stink of them?"

"Because they imprisoned us!" she hissed. "We just escaped them! The Creator led our Alphas here to save us from them! How dare you!"

Her eyes shone with unshed tears, and the passion and hurt in her voice slayed him.

"You believe the Creator led you here?"

"The Creator led our Alphas, and they led us here, at risk to their own family!"

He stared hard at her, to see if she would waver, but his heart was already moved. She bristled like a cat with its fur rubbed the wrong way, though he supposed she probably wouldn't appreciate the metaphor.

He considered and discarded a dozen different questions, because he couldn't know if she spoke the truth. So how was he supposed to—

To his surprise, Harth dropped her chin, shaking her head and blowing out a breath like she was taking control of herself. Then, muttering something he didn't catch, she lifted her chin and met his eyes again, before pushing her shoulders back and stepping forward—right into the spear point.

Tarkyn tensed, but she didn't raise a hand to close her fingers on it. It pressed in the divot between her collarbones, her skin sinking under it, threatening to pierce.

Tarkyn's heart pounded in his head. He swallowed. Hard. Every instinct in him at war—the warrior, the Captain, roaring at him to defend, to take control. But the male… the heart…

Her eyes still shone as she raised her chin in pride. "You are my mate," she said fiercely. "I don't know how that's possible, but I know you can feel it—"

"Stop! Or I'll be forced to hurt you!" Tarkyn shuffled back, taking a firmer grip on the spear, but she only set her jaw and took another step, so the point of the blade threatened to puncture her throat again.

"You won't hurt me," she said, breathless.

"I will! Stop!"

"No, Tarkyn. You can't. I'm your heart just as much as you're mine."

She lifted a hand to her own chest, cupping it there as if she held something delicate.

Tarkyn stared, every sense screaming, every piece of him at war.

Then she tsked, and took another step.

Tarkyn shuddered as the blade began to slide into her skin.