Chapter 5

~ HARTH ~

Tarkyn.

Her mate’s name was Tarkyn.

She gave a small laugh of joy and clapped her hand over her mouth, looking back over her shoulder towards the open air of the ravine, praying no one was out there to have heard.

When she’d finally managed to drag his heavy ass to the small river to cool him, she’d been so exhausted herself that she’d collapsed into the flow with him.

They were both dragged a few feet down the river before she got her feet under her and was able to prop his shoulders and keep his face out of the water.

But as she’d laid there in the welcome chill of the water, she’d had to plan.

.....

This male was strong and fit. Despite his disheveled appearance, the goods in his bag and his clothing indicated he came from an established society. That meant there were more of them, and she didn’t know how they would receive her-or her brothers and sisters. She couldn’t risk being the reason the Chimera were thrust into a war with the native population.

By the same token... if she were to take Tarkyn back to her people, Kyelle would be furious, and the entire Chimera would likely panic.

No. There was nowhere comfortable for them until he was returned to strength and could help her understand his people.

But that meant that she couldn’t risk being followed. Yet she was too weak to carry him any further.

Taking inspiration from the river, she initially began to let the flow take them down the river because it was a way to travel without leaving a scent trail for anyone who came to find her-or Tarkyn.

But as the river cut deeper into the forest floor, and the land-sometimes dirt, sometimes stone-began to rise to either side of them, Harth became concerned that she might have only succeeded in plunging Tarkyn to his death-until the river took a fast corner and she struggled to keep his head up. But they were dumped down a short waterfall-just a few feet-into a deep, dark, and freezing pool.

The sides of a ravine rose around them, twenty feet into the air, the forest and trees growing right up to the edge of the rocky cliffs on either side.

Harth’s heart despaired. But as she struggled to get herself under his shoulders and keep his head up and out of the water, she saw a dark cave at the water’s edge-a cave that was little more than a deep, dark alcove under the rocks. Yet the overhang of the cliff and forest would hide them from any eyes that weren’t in the water.

Scrambling through the water to reach it before the current drew them past, she almost didn’t make it, struggling to keep one arm over his chest, while the other grasped at the slick rock.

But then she got one elbow up on the rock, then was able to pull Tarkyn closer.

It had taken time, and she was exhausted and chilled at the end but eventually she’d had them both up, and out of the water, laying on the flat rock, sheltered by the cliff overhead.

It was clear this space had been discovered before-there was a matted fur scrunched up in the corner, and a pile of dry wood. But the things had clearly been laying there undisturbed for some time.

Harth, shaking with cold and exhaustion, had removed his clothing and dried him as best she could before laying him on the fur, to keep it dry.

She’d waited until night fell to light the fire, when the light would be hidden by the rock overhead, and the smoke would drift into the dark.

Doing her best to get water into him at every hour, she’d finally fallen into the sleep of exhaustion herself. But then he’d woken and... Harth’s heart pounded with fear, and thrill, anticipation, and uncertainty.

He’d barely been able to speak. But he’d given her his name.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Tarkyn.

When he sank back into the sleep of a body pushed to its limit, Harth sighed. She’d seen females in the sanctuary reach that place-though the strains on their body had always been from the medical procedures, or an inability to sleep out of fear.

She wasn’t sure if Tarkyn’s physical exhaustion would be easier to heal, or require more time. The oat-cakes he’d had in his bag were little more than sticky sludge after drifting down the river, though she’d done her best to pull any chunks out and dry them on leaves laid on the stone. She’d rinsed his bag, relieved that the strips of dried meat seemed to have fared well and would provide some sustenance. But not for long.

She had to figure out a way to get more food for him, to help him recover.

No, she reminded herself. Not “him.” Tarkyn.

For a moment she held her breath, her mind spinning, wondering what that name would mean to her in years to come. What images it might conjure.

She stared at him in the dark, his broad chest bare and shoulders rounded. She’d rested his hands on his stomach, and he wasn’t moving. Not really. But she’d seen all of him during the course of stripping him to dry him. His body was marble-hard and incredibly strong. Stronger even than her Chimeran Alphas, she thought.

This was a male who had been honed. That thought made her stomach flutter, and clench in the same breath.

What was he?

His scent reminded her of the tigers, but it wasn’t the same. She guessed he was some kind of cat.

His head slumped to the side, his jaw a hard line that shadowed his neck. She reached for his hair and combed it back, though it wasn’t in his eyes. It was the only indulgence she had allowed herself, to touch his hair. She found it difficult to stop.

Was it truly possible that this male was, indeed, her mate?

That driving ache to move, to pursue, had stopped the moment she’d been close to him. And he’d... he’d whispered that she was his mate.

Hadn’t he?

“Is it true?” she whispered. “Are you my mate?”

She looked at his face again, and something within her soul sang, it wanted voice, it pressed in her throat.

The heartsong.

She’d heard talk of it in other wolf-Chimera with mates.

A tiny, happy sob broke in her throat and she had to cover her face with her hands.

He was her mate, she was certain of it. It was impossible. And he was... unique. But he was hers.

He was hers, and he was not Chimera.

Would that matter? Their true Alphas were Chimera and human. She’d heard that Sasha and Zev had made vows to each other. And they were Ardent.

Her mate was here, but desperately ill. What if he never made it?

Or what if he did, but he didn’t accept the bond? Or his people killed her? Or hers killed him?

Harth bit her lip and swallowed hard.

She couldn’t know what was coming for them, or how long it would take. She might die that night-or he might.

She did not want to die unmated.

Swallowing back the tears and blowing out a breath, she put one hand to his hair, the other to his chest.

“Tarkyn,” she whispered, “I vow myself to you. I will protect you with my life. I will do everything in my power to bring you to health and safety. But... if you should die, or if I should... know that my heart is yours. My body is yours. My soul yearns for you. You... you are my mate, and I have waited for you. I... I am yours. I will stand for you, even to the death.”

Uncertain how to seal the vow, she leaned down, brushing his lips with her own, and felt the vow settle into her bones.

Then she curled up on the fur next to him, leaning on his shoulder, her body curled into his side. And she prayed.