Mated to the Warrior Beast

Zev stood to the side, arms folded and weight settled evenly on the balls of his feet. He knew he looked annoyed, but disengaged. That was his goal. Because he had a plan. He was a wolf, and a wolf always had a plan. No matter how desperate he might be.

Zev wrinkled his nose and shook off the word. He wasn’t desperate. Not yet. He was… calculating what was needed. And where the true threat lay. Although tension still ran up and down his spine like fingers on a piano, the truth was that his sparring with Lhars that morning had been useful. His head was a little clearer, even if his anger still simmered.

He suspected if these two had arrived a day earlier, he wouldn’t have been so quick to hear them. That thought gave him a niggle of worry, but he pushed that away too. He wasn’t just trusting himself to figure this out. He’d brought Lhars.

These two were an enigma to him, so he wanted Lhars’ opinion. His brother had always been good at sniffing out a rat.

Against his natural instincts, Zev didn’t think this pair were a threat. And it was pissing him off. He didn’t know why these two irritated him so much, but he recognized that deep down, he wanted Lhars to perceive something he’d missed—to see danger in them. Particularly in the male, Lerrin, a dark-haired wolf with intense eyes and weathered skin, whose hair was beginning to turn. The wings at his temples peppered with gray.

But the truth was, while Zev’s Alpha instincts definitely sensed the strength in the male—and the inherent threat that posed in the event their goals didn’t align—there was no indication that these two came for any reason beyond what they communicated: They’d once been rejected by the Anima themselves. And they no longer were.

They understood both the difficulties of defying a lion ruler, and the benefits of aligning with them. And they wanted to share encouragement to the Chimera that they’d been sent as a show of trust. But also, empathy.

It pissed Zev off that he believed them. He recognized the thought for the pettiness it held. But it didn’t change the feelings twisting in his chest.

.....

They weren’t helped by the fact that he could feel Sasha out there in there in the evening dark, so tired, but also growing in stress. Not because of the Anima, but because of Zan.

He wasn’t feeding well.

That was to be expected. Jayah had even raised it when they were traveling. That the shift in flavor and texture might cause problems for a few days. But that didn’t change the fact that his mate had been on the edge of tears when he’d gone in search of her, to bring her a meal because he knew she had barely eaten that day.

And that even though she’d rested in the crook of his arm when he’d put himself next to her, her attention had been almost entirely on their son.

That was good, and right, and true. But Zev had had to stifle the urge to bite about it.

He wasn’t used to sharing his mate’s attention. It didn’t sit well.

And yet, as he stared down at their son, all he could do was pray gratitude that Zan was there and safe in her arms and… and how he would burn the world down to make sure that remained to be the case.

“…we are blessed with three children—all adults now, though new to it. It was hard to leave them, but when we heard… we wanted to be here. We want to help you see… the Anima are a strong people. And not flawless. But we are people of love and peace, as well as strength. You’ve found us at a time in our history that we’re still recovering from blows suffered. But as we understand it, that’s true of you,” the male said calmly.

He stood surrounded by several guards—an entire pack to pull him down if needed. And he was clearly a fighter himself. Strong and a leader. Yet he spoke to them as if they’d invited him in for a meal.

Zev couldn’t decide if the male was incredibly courageous, or simply arrogant. But he couldn’t fault that the two were open and willing to talk without creating greater tension.

The perfect emissaries.

A little too perfect.

He wondered if Lhars felt the same way. His brother was eyeing them with a touch of uncertainty. “How did your people assimilate after so many years in isolation?”

Lerrin shrugged. “We were thrown together when the humans came into Anima—we discovered them. Suhle and our daughter traveled ahead to warn the Tree City Anima while the rest of us stayed to delay and fight. Afterwards we were heralded and welcomed back. It wasn’t difficult to become part of the Tree City—at least, not for them. They knew that we’d helped them. It was much harder for us, I think. It has only been a year. We’re still getting used to it.”

Zev’s ears perked and his instincts tingled. He hhadn’t heard that part. There was a world of stories behind those simple statements, yet the male stood there, waiting for the next question, his face benign.

“You truly want me to believe that you have been the Alpha of your family group and followers for two decades and you just… gave that up?” Zev asked, his tone sharper than he’d intended, though the male didn’t seem flustered by it.

“I was never eager to hold power.” Behind him, his mate rolled her lips closed. Zev sensed she stopped herself rolling her eyes. “Coming back here wasn’t difficult from that perspective. What’s been harder is… changing our ways to fit. I know the leadership of the Anima can be trusted—and we have kept our pack to ourselves. We’re a mixed bag. A few went back to join family groups, but most of us have remained together, and Elreth allows it. I’m treated as any other Alpha—respected, heard, but also held accountable.”

Zev tensed and growled, and every wolf in the room tensed with him—except the two who didn’t belong there. Were they brave? Or stupid?

“Held accountable—for people she never led?” Zev muttered.

“Held accountable for my example as an Alpha and wolf of standing,” Lerrin said firmly. “Frankly, any leader who would reject that isn’t much of a leader, in my opinion.” He said the words baldly and Zev found himself reluctantly appreciating the male. He held himself with the same gruff distance as Skhal, who Zev had always trusted. Though this male seemed far more… polished? Zev wasn’t sure what the correct word was. Only that the male was strong and sure of himself in a way that even Skhal didn’t carry.

He supposed twenty years in isolation might do that to a male. For a moment he let himself go there in his head—what if that’s what he was offered? What if Elreth suggested that he keep the territory they had claimed and they simply kept their peoples to themselves?

His clans had survived so far. Would he trust that female Alpha not to bring her greater resources against him when it suited her? Definitely not.

Yet this male had? He’d taken his people out of easy reach, to be sure—across long distance, a desert, an impassable range of mountains. They’d struggled, he’d said, especially in those early years. The land they’d chosen was rugged and cold—it sounded very similar to Thana, though a much smaller territory.

The more Zev thought about it, the more cynical he became.

Assimilation with the greater resources of the Tree City Anima had probably been a relief to these people.

“So you don’t find the leash too tight… but what about the structure? How do the Anima established dominance? Did you have to fight for your place?”

Lerrin glanced at his mate and something passed between them that Zev didn’t understand, but he knew those looks—shared them with Sasha. They were the wealth of shared experience and secrets being communicated in a glance.

“We didn’t fight to be assimilated, no. We were… already aware of our position—both its strengths and weaknesses, but we were happy with it. I don’t wish to climb the ranks higher than I am. And so far, none beneath me have chosen to challenge me. But truly… the Anima rarely fight for dominance. It happens more among the young males, or Alpha females as they work to find their place in their own tribes.

“Usually by the time an Anima is old enough to take true leadership, they’ve already proven their… suitability. It’s understood by those around them that they’re going to step into the Alpha role—or wherever they might fit.”

“So you don’t fight?” Zev was surprised.

Lerrin gave a low chuckle. “Oh no, we do. But only at times. Usually when a strong Alpha comes into adulthood while an older Alpha remains healthy and vital. Occasionally dominance changes hands after an informal conflict between Alphas—when the defeated one submits publicly. But more often when someone believes they should be leading, they will issue a formal challenge, before witnesses—who will then attend the fight. And because they all knew it was coming, the tribe, or family will respect the leader when it’s won—regardless of who wins the fight. The Anima don’t shy away from change when an Alpha’s strength is proven. But succession isn’t uncommon—and neither is submission. Our former King was… an example.”

“Of what, stubbornness?” Zev muttered.

For the first time, the new wolves bristled.