Mated to the Warrior Beast

243 Open Heart, Open Mind

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*****

~ HARTH ~

Lor glanced at the arrow in her shoulder, then back to her eyes. “You create problems and I’m not sure what to do with you.”

“So sorry to be an inconvenience—” she cut off with a gasp as he dug his fingernail into her chin and his jaw flexed.

“Do not fuck with me, Harth.”

.....

“I’m not.”

“I’m not ignorant. If you’re here, that means they sent scouts this way—which means they’re at least smart enough to suspect we’ve stayed this close. We didn’t think they would.”

She waited, but he’d posed no question.

When his fingers began to tighten again, she grunted, “Do you really think I’m going to tell you what they know?”

“I think I can’t afford to have a wolf mind-linking with her packmates and informing on us. And yet, you’re leverage. Your Captain is… very loyal. When your packmates tell him you’re here I think he will be… motivated to speak with me.”

“Any mate would be,” she gasped.

“But he is a warrior too, and frankly, I don’t have time for that. Has he already prepared a force, or would he come for you with a small number? I can’t know. So… you are a puzzle. A question that needs wisdom to answer.”

She kept her eyes on his, burning, but didn’t speak.

He shook his head softly. “I can’t know which way to go, because I can’t know the future. The Creator isn’t kind enough to share that with me. Does the Creator share the future with you, Harth? Or your precious Captain?”

Harth was confused. Where was he going with this? “No. Of course not.”

He huffed. “At least you’re honest. You know these creatures have males among them who think they talk to God? I have a feeling they’re talking to someone—or something—quite different.”

‘Harth, are you okay?’ Tarkyn sent.

She almost cried, but managed to reassure her mate without raising his suspicions about where she was—or with whom. But her head spun, and her body screamed. She didn’t have the mental energy to figure this fucker out.

“What do you want from me?” she spat finally.

“That’s the problem,” he said quietly. “I don’t know. I know what to do with her,” he said dryly, tipping his head towards Sasha. “She’s here for a purpose that’s clear to all of us. But you? Are you an asset, or danger? Are you led by the Creator, or… something else?”

It dawned on her then—the Anima had said that the Bears were zealots. Convinced that anyone who had anything to do with the gateways was possessed, or something. But if that was true, why would they work with the tigers? Unless the tigers had drunk the proverbial Kool-aid? She’d heard enough before she was struck to be sure these males were working with the bears. But she’d never heard of Chimera taking that extremist spiritual route. If anything, they were prone to dismiss the Creator at all. After all, when you’d looked into the eyes of the evil fucker who was responsible for giving you life, it could be hard to believe there was anyone else who cared.

Harth knew those Chimera were wrong. Bitter. Angry. And blaming the God they claimed didn’t exist, or didn’t care, for what had happened to them—even when the darkness of their own choices were involved.

She knew she’d been led here, to Tarkyn. She knew it. But she couldn’t expect this guy to believe her.

“If you’re listening to those fucking bears, you need to wake up,” she muttered. “Those guys are borderline insane. They tried to kill Anima who were good. They have some screwy ideas. Don’t get pulled into that shit.” The Tiger just blinked, so she pushed on. “It’s not too late, Lor. You could give Sasha back—give both of us back—and still be a part of the Chimera.”

It was bullshit of course—Zev would kill this male the moment he got his hands on him. But she couldn’t think enough to come up with anything else.

Lor stared at her for a long time then before he sighed. “You know that we’re… engaging with the bears,” he said softly.

Shit. Shit! What had she been thinking? She wasn’t. That was the problem. She was too busy fighting the pain, keeping Tarkyn ignorant, and trying to figure this all out…

A whimper wanted to crawl out of her throat. She swallowed it back and just held his gaze, but her shaking was getting worse.

“Perhaps more problem than asset, then,” he said finally, nodding once to himself as if he’d received what he needed.”

“I can’t even move. I’m hardly a problem to you,” she muttered.

“Not to me, no. But to this plan? And yet, we could use you to leverage your Captain…”

He let go of her chin finally and stood up, but didn’t move. “I can’t decide. But maybe that’s the entire point,” Lor growled.

Harth didn’t respond. It was becoming harder and harder to control her body, to think. She had to keep Tarkyn sane. Had to help him get here as quickly as possible. She’d already shown him the route she took—and the position of the Sentry who’d shot her.

“I’m not a faithless dog,” Lor muttered. “I’ll let the Creator decide.”

Harth frowned. That sounded like reprieve. But his tone was dark. “What does that—?”

He reached for her back, as if he were examining the wound. Harth did whimper when he pushed on her, the pain jolting through her again, but he muttered. “You’re in God’s hands now.”

Harth was about to ask when a searing, blinding, life-altering pain tore through her, starting in her shoulder and crackling out through every inch of her skin, every limb so that she gave a full-throated scream and her body spasmed, over and over again.

The world disappeared. Her sight went black. She couldn’t see or think of anything except the pain and how desperate she was to retreat from it.

When the worst of it passed, she was folded over her own knees, barely able to breathe, sobbing… and utterly unprotected.

The broken arrow that he’d wrenched from her shoulder dropped to the dirt in front of her nose at the same moment Tarkyn screamed in her head, “HARTH!”

But she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think. She couldn’t answer…

There were only two things her fading, numbing mind held onto.

The first was the warm spread on her back.

The second was that she’d always been taught never to remove something that had punctured deeply into the body until the person was in the presence of healers—and preferably a human surgery… because while something stabbed into the body did damage, its presence also stemmed blood flow.

The flow now seeping shockingly quickly down her back and side.

Harth couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even answer Tarkyn’s frantic cries.

All she could think was that it hadn’t been enough time. He wasn’t there yet. He was still minutes away.

But now she was bleeding out. And as the tiger turned on his heel and stalked away, muttering about the choice of what to do with her was now out of his hands, as her sight began to fade and she slumped forward, weak and unable to even sit up, the images came from Tarkyn—he was running, clawing his way across the mountain, spitting orders.

‘I’m coming, Harth.’

‘I’m coming.’

‘Don’t move, beautiful… just keep breathing. I’m almost there.’