Taming the Queen of Beasts

GAR

The Alpha Male leaped over the vehicles and landed inside the circle, standing with his hands on his hips to survey everyone. As he turned the circle, his eyes lit on Gar. He dropped his chin and smiled what Gar recognized as the smile of the predator on the hunt.

Gar's hackles rose.

The light, breeze off the plains brought the smell of blood, along with sobs and cries from those who'd been injured. But it also brought the stink of humans drenched in voices and their peculiar form of death. And none stronger than the scents wafting from this male to him.

Gar had to force himself not to bare his teeth, to give no indication that he was more than a match for this stalking peacock.

He was tall and strong for a human. Gar would have liked to have kicked his ass hand-to-hand. But he wasn't stupid. That black, shining metal in the sheath at his hip was deadly, and Gar wasn't giving him any reason to draw it.

The male kicked his foot when he reached him, scuffing dirt into his face. Gar flinched and put his head down, not meeting his eyes.

"Really?" the male said, folding his arms—a fatal mistake if Gar had been willing to take the risk. "All we have to do is tranquilize you and you're just… done? What happened to these brutal monsters? These fighters? These gods among men?"

Gar growled but didn't look up, as if he didn't have the energy.

The male squatted down, elbows on his knees, and tilted his head at Gar. The human wasn't completely stupid, he stayed out of Gar's immediate reach. But if Gar had been able to shift, the male would have been dead before he could have reached that gun.

"I've heard so many things about these fierce Anima males, and yet… here we are." He opened a hand to indicate the wider circle and looked around, grimacing when his eyes found—just as Gar's did—the number of Anima among them. And probably remembering the dead bodies sprawled around in the wider area. "I'll admit, sending her in to shut us down was intelligent and you got us on our toes, but I'm guessing that was her idea. Women—so easily swayed by a pretty boy. Yet, also so easily identified and… subdued."

Gar forced himself to keep his head down and his eyes on the male's boots. But there wasn't an inch of his skin that submitted in truth.

Stupid humans didn't know the difference.

"Are you the one who wanted to mate her? Or did we already kill that guy?" he said, his voice silky and suggestive, and Gar knew if they stayed on that track, he'd lose his control and eat this man. And he couldn't get himself killed and leave Rika unprotected.

A change of subject was needed.

"How did you do it?" Gar kept his voice quiet, so the rough, broken crack in it wouldn't clear.

"Beat you? Pretty simple, really—"

"No, the traverse. How did you cross with so many?" Then he lifted his eyes to meet the male's and let the light of confusion enter his gaze.

"Ahhh, the vehicle of your demise. That's what interests you. When you have the right friends, anything is possible," he said with a grin.

Gar nodded. "The voices let you through, then."

"Our allies gave us safe passage, yes. Does that disappoint you? That we could so easily influence them when you've been trapped by them for centuries?"

Gar snorted and shrugged, remembering a human phrase. "You got lucky, I guess."

"Not luck," the male said. "Smart. You chose the wrong allies."

Gar let his brows climb. "I did? Interesting. I'm not the one who stinks of death."

The man's eyes narrowed, but Gar didn't say any more. It was true, the male reeked of death and decay.  The voices had him. Whatever they'd used to mask their scent in Hannah and Marryk, it wasn't at play here.

The male leaned forward, his eyes sharp and shining. "That's not death you're smelling—at least, not mine. That's victory."

He turned Gar's stomach, but Gar forced himself to shift as if he was uncomfortable. There was something deeply wrong with this man. But he was cunning and cool-headed. Thinking things through. He wouldn't be easily taunted into snapping.

Dammit.

"Do you see her, over there? The one who's got the black eye? She's here as an example to the rest of them: We won't go easy, even on our own."

"I understand." And he did. He'd been taught by the best. "War is as much a battle of hearts and minds as bodies." And the humans hadn't won yet.

The male's eyes narrowed as if he was trying to see the trick in the words. Gar let him think. He needed to give his attention to how the Anima might still win. Tarkyn was still free, along with more than one hundred warriors. But if the Protectors didn't find a way to disarm these people, it wasn't going to matter.

Gar could now see what Rika had meant when she'd said they wouldn't win.

She'd been right.

His chest ached. He wanted to look at her so badly, to make sure she was okay. But he didn't want to draw any attention to her.

He prayed the Protectors were more effective than he could imagine. The human guns were everywhere, though.

Just then, as the male opened his mouth to speak, a warm beam of sunlight broke over the mountain behind the human, bathing both of them, and the WildWood behind Gar, in an orange glow.

Gar sucked in a breath.

The sun was rising, breaking through. If his parents had made it to the traverse, they'd be entering now. But did they make it?

Gar scanned the view around him once, inhaling the scent of death and blood that wasn't from the voices, and had to close his eyes.

He didn't think so.

And that thought made him weep.

*****Â

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