Mated to the Warrior Beast

It was a moment in which fear could rule.

Tarkyn, very serious, gently placed his hand between Harth’s breasts so he could feel her pulse against his palm. Their eyes locked.

“Our hearts beat in time,” he said, awed.

She nodded. “Does that frighten you?”

“Not for myself. Not at all. I wouldn’t want to live a day in this world without you.”

Harth made a little noise in her throat and threw herself into his chest as if she might cry.

As Tarkyn stroked her hair and searched his mind for ways he might soothe her, he blinked. Surprised. “There’s something more here, Harth.”

“What?”

.....

“I don’t know. But when I touched you, when I started examining the bond my agitation eased. I think… I think we can affect each other.” He frowned, his mind suddenly spinning with a dozen different thoughts. “We need to explore this further. How do you feel about an experiment or two?”

Harth’s eyes widened and she gasped, tensing.

It took a beat for him to realize… what a terrible choice of words!

“I’m so sorry, Love! I didn’t mean… I only meant… research. Let’s see what the boundaries of our bond are. That’s all. Let’s test it.”

Harth drew in a deep breath and smiled. “Yes, of course. I know. I knew you didn’t mean… I just… it just took me by surprise. Don’t worry.”

Tarkyn leaned down to kiss her and for the first of his experiments, traced his fingers along her claiming wounds as he did so, murmuring his love and care against her lips.

Harth shivered. He felt her anxiety ease.

It was fascinating.

When they pulled apart, his mind was turned entirely to the puzzle of it. “Let’s start with distance. I’ll run to the foothills and we’ll see how much space we can cross before it fades. Then we’ll try the ravine and see if having rock walls between us causes an interference…”

He wasn’t quite sure why Harth was looking at him with amusement, but he loved that she was game to try whatever he chose.

That is, until the little minx waited until he was a mile away to send him her mental image of how it looked to her when he’d entered her that morning, his head thrown back and his hand on her breast.

How the hell was he supposed to concentrate on a task with that running around in his head?

*****

That afternoon, after spending a couple of hours exploring the boundaries of their bond—and finding few—Tarkyn wrapped a bundle of food and waterskins into a fur and placed it in one of his hunting bags. Then he took Harth’s hand and led her up the trail, higher into the foothills. They climbed up the mountainside to a lookout spot he knew where they could watch the sun go down.

As they walked, Harth asked him more questions about WildWood and the Anima, how it felt to live there when there wasn’t conflict or bloodshed.

Tarkyn found his heart easing as he remembered the good days—the times with his brother soldiers when they played pranks on each other.

The Festivals, when everyone gathered in the Market to feast together, then the tables were pulled out to the edges so that the dancing could happen at its center.

“You dance?” Harth asked, her eyebrows high.

Tarkyn smiled. “I do okay.”

“What kind of dancing do you do here?” she asked, smiling.

Tarkyn blinked. “There’s more than one kind?”

“Of course! I mean, is it just like… dancing where you just move to the music? Or is there like set steps, or—”

Harth pulled him to a halt on the trail, her expression curious. “Do you dance alone, or together?”

“Together,” he said promptly.

“Is it like this?”

Tarkyn’s eyes went wide as his mate suddenly began to… convulse. She raised her hands, but moved her body in smooth, rippling waves, swinging her hips and…

He swallowed hard, his body responding to the movements that were so reminiscent of lovemaking he looked around quickly to make certain no one else was near.

“No,” he said a moment later, his voice strangled, when she stopped and looked at him. “Is that… are you… that looks very much like—”

Harth grinned at him. “Did you like that?”

“Yes, very much!” his groin was tight and his voice as well. “But… please don’t do that in the market, Harth. I’m thankful that we’re mated—if we weren’t and you did that, I would be fighting every other male in the room for your attention.”

Harth snorted. “Hardly. But if you don’t dance like that, how do you do it?”

His body still tingling and very much aroused, Tarkyn decided that there was no harm in pressing his mate up against his body and showing her, despite the fact that there was no music.

So he put his bag aside, took her hand and pulled her close so she was pressed against his belly, then snaked an arm around her waist and began to lead her in a gentle circle.

She was uncertain, like a child just learning, but she beamed at him. “Oh, it’s kind of like ballroom dancing?”

Tarkyn didn’t know what ballroom dancing was, but he quickly turned her and tipped her back, catching her weight when she gave a little squeak, then kissing away her surprise, his body thrumming.

He loved to dance.

He hadn’t even thought about what a joy it would be to dance with his mate.

When he pulled her upright again, Harth was flushed and smiling. Touching her hair.

“That’s… that’s lovely. I’ll… I’ll be excited to do that again.”

Tarkyn snorted. If he had his way, she would do more of her Chimeran dancing for him. But he supposed this was hardly the moment, or the location.

Looking around at the rocks and trees, the sheer cliff beside them and the rugged, mountainous rise above, he sighed.

If only he’d thought to raise the dancing when they were back at the cave.

Reluctantly, he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, taking her hand again. “We’ll discuss this… dance of yours more. Another time,” he said darkly.

Harth snorted.

*****

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Merry Christmas!