Falling in Love with the King of Beasts

ELIA

Pain pushed her forward, ears back and tail lashing, nose to the wind.

The mate was near, she could sense him, but instinct raised every hair on her body. The little one was in danger—bears, voices, death—too many dangers, and pain to stop her feet. She had to find the mate.

But howls and calls rose through the WildWood—predators in alarm. She ducked her head and ran, sprinting between trees, following the wind to all the scents—the kin that was prey, the pride, they were all there—even the mate, though the trail was not fresh. The mate would be there also. He must.

The other within was weak, but insistent, her voice raising with the others. She shook her head until her ears snapped and ran on, grunting against the pain. But she could not allow others to sense it, could not show her weakness.

She took a turn around a great tree, following the scents and her body stabbed at her, the little one was almost here. She stumbled, but ran on.

She needed to find the mate. She must! He would protect. He would stand guard. He would ease the screams within.

Scents of the others became stronger and she opened her mouth to taste them, searching for him. She could hear feet in pursuit and pushed on, the trees thinning, then opening at a space that stank of trails crossed, both predators and prey, a track used by all that she could follow to the gathering, all the scents the wind was pushing to her—but then a call rose from behind her.

The mate. The mating call.

His voice, deep and resonant, rolling into a growl, but calling again—urgent and heavy, desire for her, desire to help, desire to protect.

She slid to a halt on the open space, overwhelmed with scents, so many scents, but none of them his.

She called, groaning, her guts twisting in pain and she crouched, ears flattened, turning her head to find his fresh scent. Why couldn't she find his scent?

He called again and her heart sang and she lifted her voice to twine with his, relief loosening her tension, though her hackles remained up. There were too many scents here, too many…

She snapped her head to the wind, nostrils flaring.

The mate called again—growing closer—and she responded, but fear prickled, raising every hair, flattening her ears and she hissed.

The enemy. The worst of the enemy from the dark place. It was here. The same scent that had been on the fat man, the one who sought death. And again, it was close to her. Close to the offspring. Close to the kin.

Her mate broke through the trees and called again, and she yearned to go to him. But the one inside screamed—he did not know the scent of the enemy. He would not hold them off. He would trust when he should not.

She could not let the enemy near the little one.

With a roar of warning that trailed into a whine for the mate, a plea for help, she turned and sprinted for the gathering, to find the carrier of that scent.

He roared his alarm, an instruction to stop—fear for her, for the babe. But he did not understand. He didn't know the scent of the enemy.

She would find it, and she would kill it, and the babe would be safe.

*****

RETH

Elia's beast had found the Tree City. She'd heard his call and stopped, turning to find him and he'd been washed in relief. He stopped just out of the trees when he caught up to her and called and she opened her mouth like she would call back, like she recognized him. But then he stared in horror as she turned her head away and roared, tearing towards the market where he could hear the hum of voices and the clatter of a meal.

"No! Elia!"

The people didn't know, they wouldn't recognize her. If she appeared among them they'd think she was a Silent One!

"Come back!"

Her roar trailed off into a whine—for him, a call for help and protection and he snarled, leaping after her, keeping his human form so he could warn anyone they found that it was her.

He called her back again and again, pleading with her to stop, to let him be the one to protect—for there was no doubt she had scented something that she identified as an enemy and she was hunting to save her cub.

Aymora appeared beside him in her lioness, but shifted mid-step to sprint alongside him on the trail. "What's going on?"

"She's scented something, I don't know what. But she'd headed to the market!"

"Her beast's panic will only keep her on her feet for a time. We have to get her back to the cave before she delivers!"

"I know! She stopped when she heard me, but then she took of again—fuck!" The trail took a turn and met with a cross-trail that led straight to the market. "Elia, NO!"

Reth screamed a warning and everything slowed to his eyes as Elia's beast—massive and beautiful, leaped between the open sides of the covered market and into the crowd at the tables.

Screams from the prey Anima and calls of alarm from the predators rose in wave.

"IT'S ELIA! DO NOT—"

But Elia didn't slow, shoving down the aisle, between the tables to leap silently, paws wide and claws unsheathed, her mouth wide to bare her fangs, on a male at one of the tables.

He turned just as she leaped and his eyes went wide—he shifted in a heartbeat, but he was still too slow, his wolf snapped off his feet, and her mouth on his neck as she tumbled into him, carrying him off the bench to the dirt floor, where they slid together, a tangle of limbs and yelps.

And around them, as Elia snarled and closed her massive jaws on his neck, shock gave way to instinct, Anima shifted, their beasts appearing one after the other as the wolf-pack rose with howls and snarls of rage in defense of their brother.