Mated to the Warrior Beast

Why didn’t he feel it?

Zev nodded once. “Yes. But only by the grace of the Creator,” he muttered back.

Lhars blinked once, then his body slumped. “Thank God,” he said and threw himself at Zev, pulling him into a hug so tight, Zev almost couldn’t breathe again.

There was a flash of panic in his chest, a moment when his hands tightened on his brother to push him away. But then Lhars’ voice bloomed in the link.

‘We’ve been praying every day that you’d made it safely. I’m so glad. So glad, Zev. Thank the Creator… we were so scared.’ And his brother began to weep on his shoulder.

Zev stood there, stunned, while his brother’s shoulders shook. Then slowly, swallowing hard, wrapped his arms around Lhars and held him in return.

The pack raised howls—shared grief, shared joy, shared sorrow, shared relief. And Zev’s heart fluttered again with a whisper of the feeling he knew he should have felt.

.....

Joy.

Warmth.

Love.

He was loved. He had been missed. And his pack welcomed him back—him and his family. They shared his joy and fear.

They loved him. And Sasha and Zan, though they’d never met him.

A shudder rocked through Zev when Lhar’s arms tightened even further around his chest. But he didn’t jerk out of the hug immediately. He slapped his brother’s back and squeezed his shoulder before stepping back.

Lhars released him immediately, but his eyes searched Zev’s when they parted enough to look each other in the eye.

“Where’s Sasha?” Lhars said. “And the baby—”

“Zan,” Zev said, pride creeping into his tone. Then he turned to look, and the entire pack followed his gaze.

Howls rose again, but the first and biggest burst of energy that came with the excitement of their reunion had been spent on Zev, so to his relief, the pack rushed Sasha with a great deal more restraint.

Zan was still slung against her chest, but Sasha beamed with a relieved, exhausted smile as they descended on her. But he didn’t miss that her arms tightened on their son, and she used her body to shield him from the rush of the younger wolves who were still wiggling with excitement.

Zev tensed, but the females were approaching now, most of them having been saved by Sasha from the human sanctuary. Their scents were saturated with gratitude and admiration that bordered on zeal. Yet they were much more hesitant, much slower to approach and more careful of their greetings, which made Zev breathe easier.

The females just wanted to be closer to her, to see her son, to catch her scent and be certain she was safe.

Then the other clans approached too, calls, cries, and in the case of the mountain goats, dancing their greetings.

Zev was hugged and jostled and clapped on the back, his body jarring with shock at every touch, but he kept his teeth clenched and made himself face them, receiving the greetings and wishes—until finally, the crowds parted and Dunken stood in front of him.

His old friend’s eyes were watchful, but wary. Dunken rarely smiled anyway, but he wasn’t frowning, which for Dunken was as good as beaming.

“Welcome back, Zev,” he said on a rush of breath.

Zev forced himself to smile, then pulled his old friend into a brief hug—and felt Dunken relax in his embrace.

Right before they’d left Thana, Zev had asked Dunken to carry out a task, and Dunken had refused… he’d thought he’d found his mate, and hadn’t wanted to take the risk of leaving her. Zev had understood, though he’d felt the sting of rejection at the time.

Clearly Dunken feared Zev might be angry about it.

“It’s good to see you, Brother,” Zev muttered in his ear, then stepped back, squeezing Dunken’s shoulder as he knew he would have done if he’d felt… normal.

Dunken gave a small, lopsided smile. But before Zev could ask, he was pulled away by the greetings and warm embraces of some of the others who’d waited patiently to see him.

Carefully, as each of his people approached and embraced or touched him, Zev slowly moved himself closer and closer to Sasha, until they stood only feet apart—Lhars at Zev’s side, and Kyelle at Sasha’s.

Kyelle.

She’d found Zev’s eyes—her own welling with tears, her scent a strange mix of relief and fear. But she was Zev’s oldest, and one of his closest friends, now the mate to his brother—despite being an owl—and the second to Sasha.

She’d led the females out of Thana and the human world and brought them all here to start fresh. And here they were, his people… safe. Thriving, if their looks and scents were anything to go by.

They certainly seemed healthier than he and Sasha.

He looked at Kyelle again, who’d shifted her attention to Lhars.

There was a flutter of tension in Zev about Kyelle as well—would she challenge Sasha for dominance now that she’d tasted leadership and power, above and beyond being Alpha of her own flock?

Zev made himself push the thought away.

A true leader assumed his control, and only exerted it when it became clear there was a need to remind someone of their place. He wouldn’t help his cause—or Sasha’s—by seeing challenge where challenge hadn’t been presented.

But to soothe his own anxiety, he vowed to keep his nose to the wind.

He and Sasha had just endured the most terrifying and trying months of his life. Now they were back with their people, but with a new enemy to face. A new threat. That was more than enough to keep them busy and alert.

Wisdom dictated that he didn’t invite trouble that hadn’t appeared.

But… he would watch for it. And he would take its throat the moment it did.