Mated to the Warrior Beast

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*****

~ ZEV ~

With a little sob, he gathered Zan up, pulling him to his chest. His little body was freezing, and Zev cursed himself for not thinking about that—but he’d thought maybe his son needed to feel the freedom to be bigger and stronger. Needed… he needed so much. So much they didn’t understand.

Zev opened his shirt so that his chest was bare and laid Zan against it. His son curled into a little ball, sticking his tiny bottom out, fists and knees curled up, and face pressed into Zev’s collarbone. His back rose and fell quickly—too quickly. But he’d stopped crying at least.

Zev wrapped the fur over his back and cradled him, laying his head against his sons and trying desperately to swallow the bellow that wanted to tear out of his throat.

“He needs to be a shifter,” he whispered to God. “He needs that strength and that… help. Why would you keep that from him? From us? Do you even care? We did everything… we took it all. We broke for this. We got him here. Why would you get us this far only to let him die?”

A shudder of fear rocked through Zev, and Zan gave a little fuss, but Zev just rubbed his back and shushed him until he settled again. But his jaw was hardening. His body trembling with rage as much as fear.

“You did this,” he hissed at God. “You led us here—you said this was safety! But there’s been nothing but danger and death. Why?!”

.....

Images flashed in Zev’s head—that moment when Sasha had been thrown to the ground while she held his son to her chest. The fear that had rocketed through him in that second—and the pure, unadulterated rage.

He could see it in his head, had been able to since he’d woken from the drugs they’d given him after that fight.

He would tear them limb from limb for this. Anyone—anyone who stood in his way.

The anger stole his breath and made him strong, and for a second he smiled, enjoying the idea of finally unleashing on these smug cowards.

But then Zan sighed under his hand, and his little face nuzzled at Zev’s throat and…

Something in his chest cracked. Something bigger than his heart.

And then different images played through his mind… images of himself hurting others. Memories of the way his people were beginning to cower—to watch him warily when he passed them on the walks between the tents.

It made him angrier seeing them look at him like that.

The way they used to look at Xar. Or the humans.

No.

No.

He would never be that leader. Never. He was doing this for them!

The images he’d had in his mind just moments before echoed to taunt him. Daydreams of closing his teeth on that bitch Queen. Smug pleasure in kicking Tarkyn’s ass in front of his mate so they’d all know who was stronger.

His willingness to put his brother in the dirt.

Despair hovered over him like a cloud. He’d always sworn he would never be that kind of Alpha. And he’d done it too—using words and persuasion more than aggression to keep the wolves in line and lead the people… for years.

And Sasha… Sasha would be bested by an adolescent if they fought, yet they all adored her. Followed her when she led because her will was strong—and because they knew she loved them. They knew she was smart and… and they trusted Zev. He submitted to her, so they did.

What would happen if they didn’t trust him anymore?

What would happen if they decided Zev was a threat? Or Sasha was weak?

A growl puttered in his throat for a moment, then Zev froze.

He would growl at his own people now?

Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. He held his son to him and started to walk, to move, before his body shut down on him completely.

Of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t. He’d been angry and aggressive, but that was because their enemy was so close and he feared that unless they fought, he was only leading his people into danger.

In Thana they’d been under direct threat, but they’d known the terrain better and they’d had Sasha to show them how the humans thought.

He didn’t have that choice here!

He’d seen what these people would do, how they’d react. He couldn’t put his son through that! These people would kill him—kill his family, kill his people—the moment they decided the threat was too great.

“Please,” he murmured, closing his eyes and lifting his face to the sky, humbling himself, holding his son against his skin and feeling his heartbeat. “Please. I’ll do anything, just please… save us. Save my son. Save my mate. Save us all…”

But of course, there was no answer.

And then his son began to cry again—quietly. Thinly. Far too weakly. Zev wrapped his arms around him and sank to the dirt, letting himself lean back against the stump and holding his son, and praying. Just praying, until they both slowly drifted into the dark of sleep.

*****

‘Zev… Zev?’

Skhal’s voice broke through his light sleep and Zev startled, then froze. Zan was sleeping, his little back rising and falling slowly.

‘Skhal?’

‘Where are you?’

‘In the clearing where the clans greeted us when we came back.’

‘We’re coming, Zev. I have Jayah, and a wet nurse and… they sent a lot, Zev. They want to help. They really do. Don’t move. We’ll come to you.’

Zev tensed and must not have guarded the link because Skhal growled through the link.

‘She’s my heart, Zev. Jayah will never hurt you any more than I would. Stay where you are, and I’ll prove it.’

To Zev’s relief, it was only minutes before Skhal broke through the trees and began to trot across the clearing towards him, Jayah right on his heels.

“We were slow because we had a lot to bring,” Skhal said, rushing towards him. Zev couldn’t answer them, he didn’t know what to say.

Jayah beelined for him, her arms outstretched. “Let me see him. Now.”

Zev didn’t even think, just handed her his son, then stood there, trembling, when she took him to the same stump Zev had used and unwrapped him.

Zan immediately began to cry again—but so much weaker than before, Zev’s heart thundered painfully in his chest.

Skhal gripped his shoulder as Jayah leaned over the baby, shushing and touching, prodding him and cooing to him when it hurt. Soon, she gathered him up in her arms and turned.

“This isn’t illness. His body is rejecting the goat milk. You’re needed now!” she snapped, and for a moment Zev thought she was talking to him. But then Skhal turned and Zev followed his gaze to find two more figures appearing from the shadows of the trees behind them.

Zev tensed, his body bracing, but Skhal’s grip tightened on him and he muttered for Zev to stand down.

“They came to help. They’re here to help—your son, Zev.” He kept murmuring it as the two crossed the clearing, until Zev blinked and realized one of the figures was the wet nurse who’d fed Zan before.

“She came… here?” Zev breathed.

Skhal nodded. “They both came for him, Zev. Treat them well. They’re scared, but they want your son to be well. We told them they’d be safe.”

Zev nodded, his heart pounding painfully as Jayah bundled Zan into the arms of the wet nurse who immediately turned and settled on the ground where he’d sat just moments earlier, and began to feed.

And his son gave a little cry and struggled for a moment that stole Zev’s breath. Then he latched on and went quiet, eating hungrily.

The wet nurse smiled down at him and relaxed back against the stump. Zev turned away from them, sucking at the air, his entire body trembling until he had to lean down and brace on his knees until his head stopped spinning.

Skhal gripped his shoulder the entire time and never stopped telling him that they were going to get through this.

“Everything happens for a reason, Zev. The Creator understands things we don’t. You’re going to be fine—your whole family is going to be fine.”

Zev clawed his hands into his hair and prayed that his friend was right.