Mated to the Warrior Beast

So Gar stared at the ceiling and set his mind to the problem that he could bear to think about.

Pegg could shift. That, in and of itself, would have been a massive revelation. But the reason Pegg had been shocked… that was an earthquake that threatened to shift the plates under this entire conflict with the Chimera.

Something was killing the Creatures.

Creatures, the Chimera who lived in twisted, half-human, half-beast forms, who were supposedly the human “accidents”—never able to shift, never able to reproduce, always male and always one of a kind…

Some of them had heard the call when Sasha and Zev told the Chimera about the plan to move to Anima. Some of them had come through—at least, that’s what Sasha and Harth believed. They’d had to take the journey alone. And apparently many had chosen to stay in Thana and fight the human team.

The Creatures were loners, and had always kept to themselves even in Thana. So when they avoided the other Chimera here in Anima, no one had thought twice. That’s what Harth told Tarkyn.

But now, Pegg was saying that the Creatures were here. In numbers. At least, enough numbers that Pegg didn’t find just one of them dead. He’d found several—their bodies torn apart. Not eaten. Not destroyed by rot. This wasn’t the Silent Ones, animals attacking bodies of the already dead. No.

.....

The Creatures were being murdered. And when they died, they were in human form.

That was the impossible part. That was what had shocked Pegg so badly.

A creature he’d met and befriended had been killed. Pegg had followed the trail to the body, only to find his friend twisted and tormented, clearly wracked with pain just before his death.

The scent was right. And the moment Pegg realized his friend had shifted to human form—and was now dead—he’d been startled into his own.

He’d rushed to find Rika, to show her—only to discover that she was once again heading for the cave to hide from the Anima noses, and he had rightly measured that it wasn’t the right time to land this little bomb on them.

But he hadn’t known about Zev, and Harth and that whole conundrum. When they’d been there at the Cave, Rika had filled him in.

The only reason he hadn’t rushed to tell Gar was because Rika had been scared to be alone.

Gar’s stomach clenched at that thought, and he pushed away the mental image of his mate curled up here on the bed, bleeding and crying without him.

He threatened to shift himself at that.

Shaking it off, he turned his mind back. The Creatures. They could shift. They were Protectors—clearly.

But in that case, who would want them dead?

Gar wasn’t aware of anyone going missing from the Tree City—and even if he had been… did he really think an Anima had gone crazy and started murdering the Creatures that most of them didn’t even know existed?

It seemed highly improbable. Though not as improbable as Pegg shifting, he had to remind himself.

Gar raked a hand through his hair and sighed again.

How was he going to figure this out in the middle of this Chimera showdown? How was he going to tell El—should he tell El? Could there be a connection? With Zev?

It seemed unlikely—but again, none of this seemed predictable.

And Rika… how was he going to tell her about Elreth? She’d been so sad about the baby—and so happy to see him—he hadn’t been willing to mar what little joy she had by telling her, though he knew he needed to do it before he left in the morning. Because it wouldn’t be fair for Rika to return to WildWood and be shocked to learn it after what she’d been through.

A tremble shuddered through him and he blew out a pinched breath.

How the hell was he going to do this?

How the hell was he going to find the energy to do any of this?

He looked down at his mate, her head curled against his ribs in exactly the same way Gar knew he used to curl into his father’s side when he was a cub. It was a singular kind of safety, curling your body up while someone bigger and stronger held you. He knew that feeling. Still remembered it.

And now felt like he’d never feel it again.

For a minute he tried to imagine if his father was there, right then. What he would do. Apart from shit himself because ghosts were apparently real.

Gar swallowed and blinked.

In his mind’s eye he stood in the Royal cave, right at its center, in the Great Room, in front of the fire. And then the door opened and his father’s booming laughter could be heard echoing through the cave.

It used to annoy Gar how much his father laughed. Now he’d have given anything to hear it again.

He swallowed the ache in his throat and let his mind play it out.

His father, Reth, big and strong—bigger and stronger than Gar himself—walking into the cave. His face would get serious when he saw Gar standing there. He’d know immediately that something was wrong. If anyone who wasn’t family was with him, he’d tell them that he needed a minute and send them on some errand, or ask for their mercy to simply leave him to his family.

Then he’d close and bar the door and when he turned to Gar, his shoulders would be back and his chin up.

“What is it, son? What’s wrong?”

“She’s losing babies, dad. And we don’t know why.”

He’d see his own grief reflected in his father’s eyes then—his father loved children. Always had. Even before he and El were born.

Gar was sure his father would cry more easily than he did about it. But whether he cried or not, Gar knew what he would do next. Because it was what he’d always done when something had gone truly wrong.

He would look Gar square in the eye as he walked toward him. “It’s going to be okay, Son. The Creator knows. It’s going to be okay.”

And then he’d fold Gar into his chest, squeezing him until he almost couldn’t breath.

He’d grip the back of Gar’s head and hold him close while Gar cried, or didn’t. And the whole time he’d keep whispering that.

It’s going to be okay.

The Creator knows.

It’s going to be okay.

And somehow, he always managed to make Gar believe it. Always.

At least, he had.

Gar blinked and he was back in the fishing cave, Rika curled into his side, the fire dying, and the echo of his father’s voice in his ears.

His vision blurred, the light of the fire stretching in lines across the room as his eyes welled. Swallowing, swallowing, swallowing the lump in his throat, Gar turned towards Rika to wrap both arms around her and hold her.

She came half away and sucked in a breath. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

But he just growled at her to go back to sleep. Because in this moment, he was his father. He knew that. In this moment, the comfort was his to give, not receive. So he stroked her hair and held her close, and he whispered those words to her.

It’s going to be okay.

The Creator knows.

It’s going to be okay.

And even though her shoulders hitched once, she also sank into him, her breathing heavy, but even. And then slowly soft.

And as his mate drifted back off to sleep, Gar was glad that he was there. So glad. So glad he could do something.

But he also found that he’d never missed his parents more.

He missed his mother’s patient smile—and impatient warning glare. He missed his father’s laughter, and those thudding back-pats. He missed how both of them were disgustingly in love right up to the very last minute. And he missed that they weren’t there to tell him to be grateful that he could learn how to love that way.

He missed not being the strongest male in the room—and that took his breath a little too.

He never would have admitted it to anyone else, least of all his father who he’d snarled at and shoved away since he was fifteen… until those last few months. Just the last few. When he’d started to glimpse that maybe… just maybe… he did want to be like his dad after all.

God help him… that brought the tears too.

“Hug them from me,” he prayed softly, still stroking Rika’s hair. “Tell them that I get it now, and I’m sorry. Tell them I miss them… I just miss them.”

Then he curled himself around his mate and lay with her until sleep finally stole him away too. But just as he drifted off, he would have sworn he felt the weight of a large, warm hand resting at the back of his shoulder. Just pressing there so he wasn’t alone. And a deep, soft voice telling him that the Creator knows.

And it was going to be okay.