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*****

~ TARKYN ~

Tarkyn threw himself sideways, immediately catching his own weight and bracing so hard he slid as he tried to keep purchase and turn to face the attack. The instinct was there to shift, but he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. He needed to speak.

Zev snarled and leaped again, but Tarkyn was prepared for him this time.

What followed were mere seconds of Tarkyn turning, twisting, blocking to keep himself from the teeth of the wolf, but only barely succeeding time and again.

Sweat sheened his brow and his heart pounded, not only because of the exertion, but out of fear.

This male was fast, strong, and determined.

.....

Then Zev feinted left and turned his head at the last possible moment, shifting his bulk impossibly quickly, snapping at Tarkyn’s hamstring—and laying the muscle of his calf open so deep it immediately bled.

Then they were facing each other again, Tarkyn’s natural dominance and fight instinct roaring to the fore as he half-crouched, ready to defend again.

The wolf growled, baring his fangs and creeping forward step by slow step.

Tarkyn narrowed his eyes. “Too scared to take me in your true form, Zev? Too uncertain how this will play out if we fight male to male?”

Zev snarled, then a moment later, shifted back, his chin low and eyes piercing, glaring out at Tarkyn from under heavy brows. “You want me to wring your neck instead of bite through it? Sure.”

Tarkyn huffed. “No, I want you to let go of this rage and realize that I’m on your side.”

“What bullshit. My mate might have fallen for your tripe, but I haven’t. It’s easy to look like you’re giving when you know you hold the power.”

Tarkyn gave a surprised little chuckle that wasn’t faked. “You really think I hold the power?”

“More than I do.”

“Now who’s talking bullshit? You lead a people, Zev. I live to serve. And I’d serve your stubborn ass if you’d let me.”

Zev’s face twisted in rage and he leaped at Tarkyn again—fast as a serpent and strong as a lion. The male was a whirlwind of limbs and clawed fingers, kicks that threatened to break a bone if they connected.

But Tarkyn had fought strong fighters his entire life. He’d been humbled by the whip-quick Elreth for the last five.

He may not be a fast as Zev, but he was a far more intelligent fighter—and with much greater discipline.

He was happy to let the wolf come at him, burning energy and oxygen as he unleashed, his attacks slightly unfinished, or overshot, because his anger was in control.

Tarkyn weaved and ducked, blocked and waited until the moment when Zev took just a hairsbreadth too long to turn, then he landed a solid blow on the male’s ribs.

Zev grunted, rage burning in his eyes, but he immediately brought up his guard and they circled each other again.

“Fight me if you have to,” Tarkyn muttered. “Get rid of that rage that’s burning you up inside. Throw yourself against me. Let me show you that I mean you no harm—and neither does the Creator.”

“The Creator almost got all of us killed!” Zev spat.

“The Creator put you in a place to get your son the help he needs. If you hadn’t been taken by us when you arrived, your son would be dead.”

“No!”

“Yes. Face it. Admit it. Admit that we made mistakes, but we were never intentionally cruel. No one knew what you’d been through when you were bound, Zev. Your mate was already asking for your freedom—and negotiations were about to be made to provide it.

“It’s only the Creator’s plan that brought us together. Would you deny it—you said he brought you here!”

“He brought me here to die at the hands of power-hungry animals!”

“No, Zev,” Tarkyn growled. “He brought you here to learn that strong allies are an asset, not a threat to you.”

Zev snarled and launched again, but Tarkyn’s heart was calm. He knew he was right—and he could see the younger male growing looser and looser, more and more frantic.

As they circled and dodged, as he blocked blow after blow, he grew more and more confident in himself, and recalled training he’d had as a young male, back when Behryn was the Captain and even more influential than Tarkyn was now, because he was best friends with the King.

Behryn had lined them up after an exercise, all of them panting, complaining about each other’s mercilessness in a training exercise. And he’d been pissed that they—the young recruits—were letting their anger get the better of them.

“Your adversary will always scream the loudest right before they give up. Measure their desperation and you measure your effectiveness—but before you get cocky, don’t forget… you do the same. When you find yourself at your limit, when everything within you screams against whatever, or whoever you face… your time has come. Either you will succeed in your efforts, or your will will be broken.”

The memory faded, affirming his sense of the wolf, just as Zev came at him again, limbs flying and face twisted in a desperate snarl.

“We don’t need you! We will never need you!”

“Zev, you need us more than most. My Queen… our people… me… I can show you the way. I can show you that life doesn’t have to be a battle. I know you’ve never lived without threat before, but it’s only the pure truth. If you would trust, there would be no threat here for you. None.”

“LIAR!”

“Grow up.”

Zev startled and stopped in his advance.

Tarkyn hesitated, watching for a trick. But the male was standing there, his chest heaving, eyes narrowed and angry, but confused, too…

Tarkyn decided to press the advantage. He dropped his guard, though he kept himself poised to return to defense at the first sign the wolf would advance again.

“Seriously, Zev. Grow up. The Chimera are not your lives to play with. This world isn’t yours to take. You don’t know everything. I’m not saying you’re not capable of learning it. But your people—our people—stand back in that valley right now, seeking peace. Seeking allies. Seeking to grow and thrive together, and you want to fight that? Wake up! Is your pride really worth that?”

Zev’s lip curled back from his teeth.