487: Worlds Collide - Part 3

Worlds Collide - Part 3

~ TARKYN ~0

Tarkyn stood in the Hallowed Grounds, panting and sweating under the beating sun, staring at the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. It was impossible, and yet he'd been called out here. He'd known… somehow he'd known his prayers would finally be answered.

Confusion, hope, fear, and disbelief warred in his mind. And yet, all of it quieted when he met her eyes.

"What's your name?" he rasped.

Her throat bobbed and desire speared through him.

"Harth. What's yours?" Her voice was a melody—an uncertain, hopeful melody.

"Harth…" he whispered her name, rolling it in his mouth like a savored sweet. "Harth, I'm Tarkyn. I'm the Captain of the Queen's Guard, and…" he trailed off, blinking, tearing his gaze from her, though it felt like ripping his own skin.

His mind screamed. She was a stranger. Her scent unfamiliar—she was not Anima, but something close. He was Captain of the Guard. His purpose was to protect and serve the Queen and her King. There were strangers in Anima when none could enter it. How had that happened?

But she stepped forward, like she felt his resistance and fought it, one of her hands rising slightly, as if she would reach for him.

"You're my mate." There was wonder in her tone.

Tarkyn couldn't stay away. He lifted his gaze back to hers and locked in. His mate. She was his mate. "Yes," he breathed. "Thank the Creator, yes."

A tiny smile started on her pink lips, and his stomach clenched when her tongue darted out to wet them.

Then she laughed—a short, breathless chuckled jolted out of her, and her eyes came alive with light. She covered her beaming smile with both hands and stared at him. Then, from nowhere, her voice sounded, not from her muffled lips, but inside his skull.

'How is this possible?'

Tarkyn sucked in a breath and braced, his instincts screaming that there must be an unseen intruder behind him, an attack on its way. But his heart throbbed, as if the voice had reached that gaping canyon within it and filled it with clear, rushing water.

Tarkyn's breath shuddered out of him. "How did you do that?"

"I'm a wolf. We can mindlink. With those who we're… really close to." She swallowed and the first flicker of uncertainty shadowed her gaze. She suddenly wasn't sure he wanted her to refer to him in that way.

Close.

Really close.

Tarkyn's mind conjured images of all the ways he suddenly and deeply desired to be very close to her, and her cheeks suddenly flamed to beet red.

"You can see that?" he rasped.

"You sent it to me," she whispered. "It's… it's part of the bond. I can teach you how to close your mind—"

"No, don't!" he tensed, one hand up to stop her, as if she would do it then and there. It was reflex, but an overreaction, he knew. And it startled her. Yet she didn't grow wary.

Her smile grew.

Breath shallow and quick, Tarkyn took first one step, then another, closing the space between them slowly so she had a chance to back away if she wished.

But her eyes only sparkled, that fire within them only grew as he drew closer, and an ache bloomed in his chest—a joy so full it was almost painful.

When they were toe-to-toe he forced himself to stop, his chest still rising and falling quickly from the incredible thrill of having found her.

He was forty years old and had been looking for her since he was a teen.

She was here. She was finally here.

Ignoring all the risk and potential upheaval that her appearance would likely cause, he lifted a hand to touch her, letting his fingers slide along the smooth skin of her jaw, then under her ear, the mating call huffing from him as his fingers found their home curled at the back of her neck, his thumb brushing her cheek.

"Harth," he whispered. "My mate."

"Yes!" It was an urgent hiss, as if she affirmed him, as if he might not be certain.

But he was. Dear Creator in Heaven, he was so certain.

She was small by Anima standards, inches shorter than Elreth, the only other female he'd ever considered for a mate.

Holy fuck, what if Elreth hadn't come to her senses about Aaryn? What if he'd succeeded in turning her head and then he'd found Harth now…?

His fingers tightened on her instinctively. She lifted a hand to hold his wrist, as if she wanted to keep him there—like she feared he might move away. Her eyes sparkled as she craned her head back to stare up at him.

He loomed over her, awed and humbled that she lifted her chin, revealing her throat.

She had no fear in his presence. Which was the way it should be between mates, he realized.

Which was why all the ways and means that finding her could be a true disaster didn't matter. She was the last piece of his tired heart, and she was finally here. 

"Harth," he whispered. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes!" she said on a puff of air. "Please!"

Bringing his other hand up to cup her face, he breathed her name as he pulled her precious face closer, staring into her eyes until the very last moment when he traced her lips with his own in a featherlight touch.

A tortured groan of a mating call resonated in his chest as he sipped at her, then drank deeply, her mouth like sweet honey and her hands clinging to his arms.

He gave a sharp intake of breath when her tongue flashed against his, and he pulled her into his chest, wrapping her in his arms.

She came willingly, a tiny whine piercing from her throat.

'My mate… My mate… My mate…' Breathy and full of joy, she rolled the words over and over in his mind, celebrating him. Celebrating them.

And having her there, so close, so open, made his soul sing. So he held her tightly, hands in her hair, and ignored every other voice in his head, every thought of duty or caution.

She was here. Finally. His mate. She was here and she was his.

He would let nothing stand in the way of that.

Nothing.

*****

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